


Red Sorrow

by lupinlaughed



Series: Red Sorrow [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Angst, F/M, Family, Gen, M/M, Severitus, Sibling Addition, Slytherin!Harry, Snily, So much angst, Suspense, girl!Harry, harry has a sister who doesn't talk like she's dumbledore, she's just an awkward lil shit, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 00:03:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 82
Words: 547,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8379691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lupinlaughed/pseuds/lupinlaughed
Summary: AU. Harry Potter was not the only one marked that fateful Halloween, and Severus Snape is given redemption in a form he least expected. A Sibling!Addition story beginning pre Philosopher's Stone through Prisoner of Azkaban. Goblet of Fire and Order of the Phoenix will continue in a separate installment.





	1. Oculi Omnium

**Author's Note:**

> List of Warnings & Content: Crude and adult language, along with adult themes. Non graphic romantic themes/scenes. Graphic depictions of violence and torture and all the fun that Voldemort/Tom Riddle comes with. Major character deaths and secondary character deaths, as this is a magical war, and people are bound to die.
> 
> In this story, there is romance, action, humor, adventure, horror, tragedy and a whole lot more. Obviously, I do not own Harry Potter or anything to do with it, and do not own any of these characters, save the ones that are OOC. I hope that you enjoy reading this story as much as I loved writing it, and please, if you have a moment once you've finished a chapter, it makes my day if you could review. I read every single review sent to me. Every one still makes me smile, even if it's just a few words.
> 
> I'm aware the OC’s are tricky and not welcome in the fandom. One of the things I'm hoping to accomplish here is to make Ariel, Harry’s sister, as three-dimensional as possible. Any feedback on her is appreciated, so long as it’s not malicious. I really wanted to explore this universe with a sister/daughter thrown into the mix. Harry is still the Chosen One, Harry is still important, Harry is still Harry. He’s just got a sister along for the ride that isn’t Harry 2.0.
> 
> The first several chapters are dedicated to establishing Snape in all his Snapey-ness. And Ariel. Harry comes at Chapter 11. 
> 
> And because I'm trying to stick to canon as much as possible in regards to characterization, this is not going to be "Har-Har and Snapey make nice" simply because Ariel is Snape's daughter here. Obviously, their relationship is subject to change, but that does NOT mean things are going to be blue skies and family picnics right off the bat. Writing Snape in character requires him being an insufferable bastard a lot. This isn't a Snape Redemption story. That, I think, is something you can decide for yourself, if he achieves or not.
> 
> Chapter Cheat Sheet:  
> PS: Chapter 17: Crossing Destiny  
> CoS: Chapter 35: Reverie  
> PoA: Chapter 54: Escape

**Part I**

_“Until we have seen someone’s darkness, we don’t really know who they are._

_Until we have forgiven someone's darkness, we don't really know what love is."_

_\-- Marianne Williamson_

* * *

_31 October, 1981_

From the window, the night appeared as dark and silent as it had ever been.

The dim light of the solar system she had conjured especially for the nursery lit up the far right wall, bathing her in a soft glow. She let herself stand in it for a moment, admiring her work, and taking a minute to let it calm her. Moonlight – the actual kind, _not_ from the solar system – filtered in like droplets from the open window looking out onto the pavement below.

Lily Potter stood at her spot, watching the orange light of streetlamps light up the empty street. The last of the trick-or-treaters were trickling down the road, their laughter still hanging in the air, like smoke. Lily breathed it in, feeling it lighten the weight on her lungs. It was one of those nights where she felt caged, like she was some kind of test-tube experiment being held against her will. She wasn’t exactly paranoid, but the thought of her and her family being watched was always in the back of her mind nowadays. She worried about Peter… about Remus and Sirius. About her and James, and her family. About the Order.

Lily fretted over the tiny body in the crib and the one downstairs – _them._ Lily had asked James once if they had done the right thing, bringing children into a world like this, though now she couldn’t imagine a life without them. She couldn’t recall a James before Harry – a world before her daughter. An adult life void of them was unthinkable. Lives Voldemort wanted to take. Lives that were being snuffed out, like candles, one by one by one…

She took another deep, steadying breath. Obsessing over the war wouldn’t do anything now. No, Lily had learned long ago that the world did not make sense, nor was it simple.

All Lily could do was sit and wait and watch— waiting and _waiting_ and _watching_ for anything new from Albus. Most days, her children were enough of a handful to keep her distracted, and James always kept the atmosphere light. He could tell Lily was unhappy — frightened, even, though she would never call it that. Was she a Gryffindor, or was she not?

It had simply been only a handful of days and minutes since her old Headmaster had sat her and her husband down to tell her that You-Know-Who was coming for her children. A month since they’d seen Sirius. Two since Remus and Peter had visited for their children’s birthdays.

The fear had dwindled down to a dying ember in the back of her mind, though, when night fell across the sky and took the light of day with it, Lily would think and contemplate until her stomach rolled and hands trembled. She couldn’t stand just sitting still anymore. She wanted to go out and fight again — fight against the people who wanted her children dead. Wanted her and James dead. She remembered that day Albus had sat them down like it was just yesterday…

A shriek of laughter jarred her from her thoughts – James still playing with Harry downstairs. If Remus were here, saw the way Lily’s arms wrapped around her slim frame and the way she bit her lip, he would have frowned and offered to make tea. Lily would have told him to sit down, because he’d look exhausted as always, and she’d have made it herself.

Lily sighed, pushing the dark thoughts away from her to look over her shoulder at the small figure playing with the zipper of her onesie in the crib. Her daughter, two years old and intent on not falling asleep that night, was babbling away happily.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Lily bent down and smiled, Ariel’s little hands reaching for her hair, “Mummy’s not ignoring you – she’s just worried.”

Ariel giggled and reached for her hair, giving a sharp tug. Lily winced.

“Close your eyes, love.” Lily whispered.

Ariel gurgled again, her little hands flexing towards her. Lily huffed fondly, reaching into the crib to ruffle her auburn curls. Ariel responded by shoving a thumb into her mouth. Lily had thrown the binkie out the day she’d turned two, nearly three months ago. James had found it merciless, but Lily’s mum had done the same to her. She’d later said it was because she didn’t want her ending up one of those children that depended on them long after they’d stopped using diapers. Harry still had a year left with his. Ariel had tried snatching it on more than one occasion.

_Finally,_ the toddler’s eyelids began to close, and at this, Lily bent down and kissed the top of her head. She then sent an exasperated look to the door, wondering where James was with Harry.

“Sweet dreams.” Lily whispered, draping a blanket over her tiny body — a gift from Remus when Ariel had been born. Harry had one that was nearly identical.

She took her time heading down the hallway, her son’s small laugh meeting her ears as she softly closed the nursery door. Lily smiled to herself, rolling her eyes at James’ antics. He got a kick out of making their kids laugh at the most ridiculous things, and often during the late hours of the evening, when they should all have been asleep. Lily constantly reminded him that he’d regret it when they awoke the next morning, cranky and whining.

“Oh — oh, look!” James’ voice called from downstairs, and Harry shrieked with laughter as Lily descended down the stairs, “Uh-oh, almost caught that one!”

Harry was sitting up on the couch, James on the coffee table. There were colored puffs of smoke coming out of her husband’s wand. The light in his eyes told her that he was enjoying this significantly more than the baby, and Lily’s heart warmed in her chest.

“He’s supposed to be in _bed,_ James.” Lily smiled at the sight, not really wanting to interrupt.

James turned and smiled that crooked grin that made the worried lines in his face disappear. He looked like a boy again — the one that had seemingly been left behind at Hogwarts, where Lily had left Perfect Prefect Lily Evans. Here, out in the real world, they were members of the Order, and parents.

“We’ve been caught, Harry.” James scooped up Harry and kissed his cheek, “Daddy’s in for it now.”

Harry squealed and squirmed, his little hands reaching for his father’s unruly hair, and then his glasses.

“Does Daddy want to put him to bed, then?” Lily quirked an eyebrow at him, watching in amusement as James began to frantically shake his head.

“I can never get him calm enough.” He chuckled, “My face is like a trigger for him that tells his brain _‘playtime.’”_

“I wonder why that is?” Lily teased, taking Harry from her husband. He grinned that lopsided, silly smile that had made Lily furious when she’d been just a girl, but now, it made her heart feel like it was being squeezed by some invisible hand.

“Goodnight, little man.” James chuckled, ruffling the tuft of hair atop Harry’s head, “Give your sister a kiss for me. _”_ His thumb slowly grazed over Lily’s cheek, his lips kissing the other, “Here’s one for mummy.”

“Dadadadada.” Harry babbled happily, his head resting in the crook of her neck.

Lily kissed him on the mouth, melting into his softness, his smell. James winced as Harry pulled his glasses down his nose.

“Alright Harry,” Lily smirked, “say nighty night.”

“Nigh _nighnighnigh…”_

James’ hazel’s eyes were full of the same emotions Lily constantly felt flooding through her chest since their life together had begun. As Lily began to carry Harry away, James let out a loud yawn, tossing his wand onto the couch.

When her foot hit the landing on the stairs, Lily heard something explode, and her heart stopped. For a fraction of a second, in that area between space and time, there was nothing. Not a sound. Not a word. Not a single peep.

“Lily!” James voice shouted then, “Lily— it’s him! Take Harry and Ariel and run! I’ll hold him off!”

She hesitated for a fraction of a second, wanting to throw herself down the stairs and find James. He was only a few paces away — just down the stairs with that beautiful smile and eyes and his laugh and —

Harry’s green eyes — her very own — met hers. His little fingers curled around her hair as she held him to her tightly.

You-Know-Who was here for _him._ Not her baby oh no no _no —_

She tore down the hall and into the nursery, slamming the door behind her.

Lily sat down firmly, her son wrapped tightly in her quivering arms. Collapsing against the door, she pushed back with all her strength in fear that it would soon be opened. She tried to block out the sound of muffled voices. James had always been quick on his feet, but that was his only weapon. Her James — her _James_ oh gods _—_

She looked at her children. The boy’s brilliant green eyes, _her_ eyes, looked back up at her, silent tears leaking onto his cheeks. Being merely a year old, he didn't understand what was going on, but he could sense fear. He could sense _her_ fear. It was palpable in the air around them. Her skin felt like it was being burned with alcohol, her heart slamming against her ribs.

Harry sniffled loudly, burrowing against her chest as Lily stood, rubbing her trembling hand in circles around his back soothingly.

“Not my babies.” Lily whispered, praying someone, _anyone_ would hear her, “Please, not my children, not them…”

Ariel was awake again, undoubtedly woken up  by the sound of the door slamming upon Lily’s entrance. She was standing in her crib, little hands shaking the bars of the crib and whimpering loudly. Ariel always had more of a voice than her brother — louder, which was extremely inconvenient at times like this.

Lily stood, still clutching Harry as tightly as she could, and wrapped her other arm around the bewildered child.

_“Shhh…”_ Lily muttered as softly as she could, stroking her daughter’s thick auburn hair, “Mummy’s got you.”

Ariel cried into her shoulder, her noises muffled by Lily’s blouse. “Mummy!” She cried, _“Mummy…”_

“Ariel, look at me.” Lily whispered to her daughter. Though not fully understanding the words because of her age, Ariel still lifted her head and looked at her mother. Her tear-filled black eyes… _his_ eyes, looked up at her, fright written all over her face.

Lily opened her mouth to reassure her daughter, but was instantly cut off by a cold laugh from the corridor outside and two unforgivable words.

_“Avada Kedavra!”_

She heard the sound of her husband’s body hitting the floor with a thump, and You-Know-Who’s cold, triumphant laugh, echoing off the walls, filling up the small house. They reached into the room, coiled themselves around her heart and ripped it apart. Even the children in her arms seemed to sense it, and quieted.

The silence was so loud that it overshadowed the roaring in her ears.

_“James!”_ Lily couldn’t help but scream for her husband, but in the back of her head she knew that all hope was lost.

Memories instantly came flooding back to her. Back to when she and James were kids, his failed attempts to impress her, his jokes, his humor. Denying feelings, confessing feelings. Their first kiss.

_They were standing in the empty Gryffindor common room, their arguments bouncing off the vacant walls –_

_“Can't you even feel guilty about anything? The way you used to treat people?” She snapped._

_“You think I don't?” James thundered back. “I was stupid and reckless, and I thought that I had nothing to lose. I realized I was wrong. But that was years ago, Lils! I was what, fourteen? It was only a joke… hexing people for fun isn't a crime —”_

_“It’s horrid and cruel, and if you think labeling it as a prank is an excuse, than you’re just… heartless!”_

_“I get it. You feel guilty. I just… ” She stood up from the chair in the empty common room, noticing it was almost midnight._

_James’ tone lowered to a calmer state. “Okay, Lily, I won't. That’ll be Sirius’ job from now on.”_

_Lily rolled her eyes. “Just promise me you won't do any more things you have to feel guilty about.”_

_James gave a half-smile. “I won't.” He said, his tone low and reassuring. He walked a few feet from where they were standing and paused for a second. “No.” He said, louder this time, turning to face Lily. “You know what? If I'm going to have to feel guilty about anything, I'm gonna feel guilty about this.”_

_The next thing Lily knew was that James Potter’s lips were pressed against hers, his hands gently cupping her face –_

Flashing back into reality, Lily bit her lip, realizing she’d just given away her whereabouts to You-Know-Who. Scrambling to stand up with a fussy baby in her arms, she began to shove the crib Ariel was in towards the window, farthest away from the door, and dropped Harry down alongside his sister. Lily then gathered various boxes and chairs, anything she could find to stop Voldemort from entering the room, and began piling them against the door.

As though that could stop him. She could hear the _thump thump thump_ of his footsteps down the hall, her heart synchronized with their deathly rhythm.

The door was blasted open with a single incantation of “ _Alohomora_ ,” thrusting Lily to the floor as Ariel’s cries crescendoed, Harry’s whimpers twisting her heart and insides.

A tall, brooding figure stood in the doorway, dark hair falling on his face, almost covering those red eyes— for a moment, Lily thought his iris’ were simply stained with blood. Voldemort gave an almost lazy jerk of his wand, casting away the piles of boxes and chairs that had been hastily stacked upon the door.

Lily instinctively leapt to her feet, throwing her arms out in front of the crib, desperately trying to think of any other methods to defend her children, Ariel’s tiny hands tugging at her shirt.

“Not them, not my children, please, not my children!” Lily pleaded, her stream of words as tangled as her thoughts. Anything to save them.

Something twitched in Voldemort’s menacing, sharp face. “Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside…” He growled.

“No! Please, take me instead… not my children, take me!” Lily cried as her heart twisted in agony at the thought of him getting to Ariel and Harry. He'd already gotten James… her stomach took a plunge as she remembered… he was _not_ going to get her children.

“Stand aside… stand aside…”

“Please, have mercy!” She pleaded, holding the bars of the crib so tightly that she felt her hand might break.

He paused for a second, as if racking through his brain, trying to remember something. Lily could have sworn he mumbled a string of words and then —

His tone was eerie as he spoke, almost lovingly, “ _Avada —”_

The world turned to marble, to stone, and then, a brilliant white, and then it was only red.

* * *

If he had a name for this thing roiling inside of his chest, clawing away at his insides and splinting his mind, it would not have mattered. If he could have, he’d have ripped it out of him and flung it somewhere dark; locked it away and thrown away the key. It was, unbearable to say the least.

Severus had known something had happened when the Mark on his arm had shot a stream of white-hot pain through his veins, sending him stumbling from his study and out into the cold, night air. He’d thought he was being punished — not that the Dark Lord had ever punished any of them before with the Mark itself. And then, he’d almost Apparated, thinking he was to be Called, but when Severus had glanced down at his forearm, the Mark was fading. It slowly disappeared, the way the night consumed day.

And then Dumbledore had come.

When he came back to himself, Severus found that he was sitting in a chair in the Headmaster’s office. He had no recollection of how he’d gotten there, only that his entire body had gone numb, the quivering hand that resembled his feeling like it was a marionette on a string.

“Severus?” A tired, grim voice was murmuring.

Severus couldn’t hear right. It was like someone had plugged his ears with cotton. The world shook around the edges of his vision as his Occlumency shields rattled about his skull — shattered and torn down — obliterated, but somehow, still salvageable. He would not fix them tonight — no — he hadn’t the strength, nor the heart or mind, because Lily was —

“I thought… you were going… to keep her… _safe...”_ Severus croaked, his chest aching with every breath. How unfair was this life that he was still living, when the one person that deserved it most had been snatched away, doused, like a candle in the night?

“She and James put their faith in the wrong person.” said Dumbledore, “Rather like you, Severus. Weren’t you hoping that Lord Voldemort would spare her?”

_I must say, Severus, I am… disappointed_

His breathing was shallow. He couldn’t… Lily…

“Her boy and girl survive.” Dumbledore said, as if this were some great piece of news that would lift his shattered spirit, “Her children live. The boy has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and color of Lily Evans’ eyes, I am sure?”

“Please,” His eyes closed, her face lighting up the once coveted dark, _“don’t.”_

“And the girl, she looks like her… she has her hair, her face —”

_“DON’T!”_ Severus bellowed, gripping the sides of the chair so tightly that he actually heard a faint _crack—_ the wood splinting. “Gone… _dead…”_

“Is this remorse, Severus?” Dumbledore queried, empathy for him nowhere to be found, even for the old man who _emulated_ it. Not for him — not for Severus, who had taken his heart and given it to the Dark Lord, not knowing it had never beat within his own chest. He had lost that right, lost it when the Dark Lord had gathered them all, and _her name_ had come from _his_ lips and Severus was running — running to the old man and more frightened than he’d ever been in his entire life…

“I wish...I wish I were dead...” Severus moaned, burying his face in his hands and wishing it to be so. He wanted to catapult himself off the side of the Astronomy Tower, drown himself in the lake, throw himself into the Whomping fucking Willow. Anything to ease this pain… ease this anguish that tore his insides to shreds and screamed for mercy inside his mind. Defenseless and alone and his heart gone cold and void and gone and gone and _gone…_

“And what use would that be to anyone?” Dumbledore asked coldly. When Severus looked back eyes, his blue eyes were icy, like brittle frost on a pond. “If you loved Lily Evans, if you _truly_ loved her, then your way forward is clear.”

Severus, still hopelessly lost in a haze of pain, found that it took Dumbledore’s words a long while to reach him. He leaned forward, his earlier declaration of death still hanging in the air between them. What more could he do, now that Lily was dead?

“What — what do you mean?” He whispered at last.

“You know how and why she died. Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily’s son and daughter.”

“They don’t _need_ protection. The Dark Lord has gone —”

“The Dark Lord will return, and Harry and Ariel Potter will be in terrible danger when he does.”

In the part of his mind that still recognized the gravity of the situation, that the Dark Lord was gone, but the Dark Mark not fully faded. That Lily was gone, but parts of her remained.

Slowly Severus regained control of himself, mastered his own breathing.

At last he said, “Very well. Very well. But never — never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us! Swear it! I can… not bear… especially Potter’s son… I want your word!”

“My word, Severus, that I shall never reveal the best of you?” Dumbledore sighed, looking down at him. “If you insist…”

The rest of the old man’s words felt like a waterfall against Severus’ ears. They roared and rushed past him, until nothing was left and small ripples – he was standing – Dumbledore was saying something Severus didn’t bother to try and hear, because his grief had found a way back into the place in his chest where Lily had once been.


	2. With a Lily In Your Hand

Dumbledore came for Severus a week later.

He found him in the hole he’d burrowed for himself at Spinner’s End, in the same spot he’d collapsed in seven days earlier, leaning against the frail bed frame, an empty bottle of firewhiskey in his hand. The light filtering in through the dirtied blinds caused him to look up. His head felt full, and chest empty.

His grief and guilt had melded together, deep within the pit of his stomach. It simmered there, boiled away at his skin as he tried to put it out with the alcohol, but it only seemed to feed it more and more. Severus, however did find solace in the haze, where his Occlumency did not matter, and neither did he. On the floor of his bedroom at Spinner’s End, Severus felt Conscious eating him alive and welcomed it. His sins were encased in the part of his mind that he’d long thought locked away, but at the memory of green eyes etched in terror, Lily’s broken body on the floor of a nursery her red hair spilled across the ground her eyes frozen her eyes unseeing her eyes dead dead  _ dead — _

Severus kneaded his hands against his skull and slammed up his walls, so high that if he were to stand in front of them, he wouldn’t be able to see the top. He could not die here, no matter how much he wanted to. He’d promised Dumbledore — sworn a vow for Lily, and he would not fail her again.

He let himself drift among the sea of shattered glass, the newly resurrected shields giving a great shudder at the forefront of his mind. His conversation with Dumbledore felt like it was a lifetime or more ago. As Severus lifted his eyes to the dirtied windows of his bedroom, he recalled suddenly, as though it were an epiphany, that time had not stopped alongside him. The Dark Lord had fallen, and the rest of the Death Eaters…

The Opposition had won — no — the  _ Order  _ now.

Severus eyed the bottle in his hand, and threw it against the adjacent wall, watching in satisfaction as it shattered into pieces. He was neither victorious or defeated – he was somehow far below both options, watching the aftermath of a war from a one-sided glass.

“Pathetic.” He muttered to himself.

_ Pathetic, Snivellus, really. Is that the best you can do? _

The largest shard, laying at his feet, exploded.

_ (Lily was dead) _

He felt his hands spasm, a moan shoving its way up his throat. For a moment, Severus thought he was going to be sick, but his stomach gave a responding rumble instead.

Ah —  _ food _ — yes. Fire whiskey did not suffice as nourishment, unfortunately. Perhaps coffee would, then.

When he lifted his eyes, a glow was emanating from the hallway.

Severus gritted his teeth and shoved himself to his feet. The glass cracked underneath his boots — his robes flowed to the floor, scratching against the stained and aged wood. It occurred to him then that he hadn’t changed since he’d fallen down in this very spot. He was still wearing his Death Eater robes. His mask was watching him from the floor, the dark holes meant for eyes as bottomless as his own.

The sunlight, cold and grey, as it always had been at Spinner’s End, felt blistering, the way winter wind bit at one’s skin. Severus stepped away from the spot on the floor, his wand clutched tightly in his hand, and glided to the door, leaning heavily against the frame.

A ball of silver light was in the middle of the hallway, pulsing wildly when Severus’ eyes landed on it. Severus rubbed at his eyes tiredly, the Patronus steadily moving closer. Half asleep, still encased in bitter grief, Severus squinted at the shape, unable to identify it for a long moment.

What the  _ hell – _

It was a fucking  _ phoenix, _ glittering away in the dark. It’s light seemed to surround him on all sides — a warmth that Severus could feel melting away the frost layered around his heart — but no —  _ no — _

Dumbledore. He  _ had  _ said he would send for him, didn’t he? Shit.

“What do you want?” Severus tried to sneer, but his voice cracked on every syllable, “What the fuck is  _ that  _ doing here?”

“This is how the Order communicates.” Dumbledore’s voice said, and Severus flinched at the sound, “We use Patronus’. Can you produce one, Severus?”

He remembered Lily, at the edge of the lake one day during their seventh year. She hadn’t so much as looked at him since their fifth year OWLS, and then, Severus couldn’t help but watch her from the tree line as she raised her wand, a magnificent doe prancing across the water. He’d been so afraid of defiling himself that when he’d tried that night — 

“I’m sure I’ll manage, when the time comes.” He said dryly.

“Splendid.” The phoenix said in an annoyingly bright voice, “I would have sent word sooner, but as you can imagine, things at the Ministry have demanded my attention since Tom’s departure…”

Severus’ hand unconsciously went to his forearm. Even though it had nearly faded entirely, he could have sworn he felt it still burn at its Master’s mention.

“I hope you hadn’t begun to think I’d forgotten about you.” The phoenix-Patronus said in a kind voice, one that made Severus’ chest feel like it was going to cave in.

“On the contrary,” Severus said stiffly, “I had taken comfort in it. Your Patronus’ light is going to give me a migraine.”

“I won’t linger then,” The light pulsed, “I’d like to meet with you. Soon, if you’re able.”

_ Able?  _ Patronus’ couldn’t see…

But Dumbledore had seen him a week earlier.

“When?” Severus asked tonelessly.

“The soonest? Tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. To meet. With Dumbledore. He knew what was expected from him from here on out. Severus had known it since he’d met Dumbledore on the hilltop. Teaching at Hogwarts would be what the Dark Lord  _ and  _ the Headmaster wanted of him…

If Lily could see him in that position, surrounded by children, which she’d known he’d hated, she’d have laughed so hard her sides would’ve split open.

Severus’ stomach rolled.

“To discuss what?” He asked, his tone biting. He wasn’t going to make it easy for the old man either way.

The phoenix stilled for a moment, the glow dwindling, “I had presumed that Tom wanted you to continue teaching. A spy is an invaluable asset, after all.”

“I don’t think many parents would want a Death Eater teaching their eleven-year-old how to brew a Calming Draught.”

“You’ve been cleared of any suspicions.” Dumbledore’s Patronus said in a grim voice, “Your name came up… on more than one occasion the past several days. That’s why I’ve been at the Ministry, you see — I’ve been privy to almost every trial thus far.”

Traitorous  _ fucking _ bastards — not that Severus would have predicted any different from them, but it was almost laughable. The Dark Lord had been gone for little over a week and names were already being given. He could only imagine the deals being proposed, the words exchanged behind closed doors, the galleons being traded away.

“Who’s been apprehended?” Severus asked, not really giving a damn, but still curious. He already knew who would deny — cry bewitchment and torture and blackmail.

“It matters not.”

“It does if my name is involved.”

“Now Severus,” Severus didn’t think it was possible for a Patronus to frown, but the beak of the phoenix seemed to twist itself downward, “If we are to move forward, I want your word that there won’t be any further involvement with dark magic, or that you’ll see retribution from the Death Eaters. I fear not all of them will be held accountable…”

“Are you forbidding me to utilize the dark arts, or to cease being a dark wizard altogether?”

“You are not a dark wizard, Severus. You may have thought, at one time, that that is what you aspired to one day become, but your actions and loyalties have spoken otherwise. Dark magic, however, is a different matter entirely. I won't permit it inside of Hogwarts. You've seen the effects it can have on one's mind. I would hate to see that happen to you, my boy, even if you believe it's for your own protection… or another’s.”

“Tell me they’ve taken care of Bellatrix, at least.” He muttered, trying his hardest to ignore the way his heart strangled his chest. Dumbledore’s words were nothing but lies – webs of manipulation that Severus would never let himself be caught in.

“They’re still looking for her. The Aurors captured her husband and brother-in-law, but haven’t been able to locate her just yet. Do you know where she might have gone?”

Only the convoluted and demented mind of Bellatrix would know where to hide. Severus’ own tugged in the direction of the Death Eaters, and the times where he would wonder how Lucius and Narcissa were faring. He shuddered at the thought of being within range of Bellatrix when the Mark had begun to fade. Anyone in her presence would have seen the lightning in her eyes and run for their lives. He did not fear Bellatrix as some did, but he knew it was best to avoid her when in a rage.

“No,” Severus said tonelessly, “I haven’t been in contact with any of them since…”

“I fear she’s looking for the Potter children.” The phoenix said, dimming slightly. 

It shouldn’t have sent a shudder rippling through him, but it did.

“They’re safe?” Severus forced through clenched teeth.

“The boy is at his aunt’s —”

Severus’ head shot up, the numbness in his hands and feet returning at the mention of Petunia. Useless, horse-faced  _ Petunia — _

“You left them,” He hissed, “with  _ Muggles?” _

The phoenix pulsed two or three times before it spoke again, “Have you ever heard of Blood Wards, Severus?”

He had, in books and texts he thought useless. There were different kinds, weak, without one crucial constituent – sacrifice. Something Lily had given… something that the Dark Lord could not fathom or understand, that Death Eaters could not penetrate. Sacrifice had always been rooted in the strongest branches of magic, entwined with love and loyalty, things that Death Eaters had scorned. Things Severus had tried to cleanse himself of, in a time after Hogwarts when Lily had married Potter.  _ Love  _ and  _ sacrifice  _ had not been enough to save Lily – Severus giving his life to her cause to keep her safe had not been enough – it would never be enough again.

“I have.” Severus admitted wearily, though he did not try to keep the lingering anger out of his voice. Petunia would hate the brats — she’d loathe and despise them with every fiber of her being, and then some, the moment she was sure the boy and girl was one of  _ them _ . “Don’t send them there.” Severus said into his hands, “Petunia won’t want them – it’s not what… what her sister would have wanted.”

“Ariel remains Hogwarts. Only Harry is with Petunia.”

His breathing was beginning to quicken,  _ “Why?” _

Dumbledore Patronus throbbed, like it was somehow growing impatient, though the air around it did not change. The warmth was trying to seep its way into Severus’ skin, but he would not let it. He willed it to sink into the walls around him instead.

“We can discuss it tomorrow.” Dumbledore’s voice said, sounding strange, like he was purposefully trying to change the subject. Severus shouldn’t have cared, but the wizarding world wasn’t  _ safe _ – Hogwarts wasn’t safe – who was  _ watching – _

Severus glared at the phoenix and gave a sharp jerk on his head. His legs burned – he’d been standing for too long. Laying a hand over his chest, he sought to calm himself, but his throat was closing up, and the walls were now burning hot and tilting –

“Tomorrow.” Severus muttered, kneading his forehead with all his might.

“I’ll see you then.” Dumbledore’s voice said kindly – more than he’d given him since he’d met him on the hilltop.

The Patronus beat in rhythm to Severus’ own heart, and slowly faded, like frost on a windowpane. This time tomorrow, Dumbledore would not fade into nothingness again. He would become constant – the lighthouse at the edge of the cliff.

Yes – tomorrow. But for now, Severus was alone once more.

He fell against the frame and buried his face in his hands.

* * *

The next day, morning found Severus trying to glue his shields back together.

He’d realized quite quickly that sleep would not be an option for some time – every time he closed his eyes, his nightmares leered at him, images of Lily’s face a preview of what his dreams would hold for him. His bathroom held a small apothecary, sleeping aids galore at his fingertips, but he’d never liked to use them. They made him feel oddly vulnerable and sluggish – the only time he’d willingly take them was if he was ill, which wasn’t all that often.

That was what coffee was for, he supposed. He had never been one to be able to sleep either way. Severus rarely slept through the night, if at all. 

With a shuddering groan, Severus forced himself from his spot on the floor, gritting his teeth as his boots crushed the glass from the bottle he’d shattered last night. He fumbled for his wand in his robes and quickly banished the shards, bracing himself on the mattress. 

He couldn’t meet Dumbledore like this. He  _ wouldn’t.  _ His pride and mind may have been destroyed, but he still had  _ some  _ of his dignity left to cling onto. A part of him almost hoped the Auror office would ignore Dumbledore’s testimony and just fucking arrest him. How different could Azkaban be from teaching little pustules for an indefinite length of time? It would put him somewhere he deserved to be, not inside the heart of Hogwarts. Though, Severus wondered, how much different was the cage of his mind in comparison to Azkaban? 

Well, he’d soon find out.

Severus rose and stumbled into the bathroom, flicking on the musty old light to find his way into the shower. He couldn’t remember the last time he had bathed — that was probably a concern, but he didn’t care. He’d realized long ago that caring about his appearance would only bring him more stress, more unwanted thoughts into a now unwanted life. 

The water felt foreign against his skin — he turned it up to scalding, trying to bring back some feeling. Severus couldn’t afford to keep automatizing this numb. It was one thing to keep the mind unfeeling — to close it off and lock it away — but another matter entirely to cut himself off completely. Severus, talented as he was in Occlumency, couldn’t function on no frequency at  _ all.  _

When something resembling pain pushed it’s way through his senses, Severus shut the water off and dressed. He didn’t know what time Dumbledore wanted to speak with him — he didn’t think it really mattered, so long as he came at all. It was morning — the sun rose just outside of the kitchen windows, far too bright, but never warm enough. 

He didn’t want to go. He didn’t want to look him in the eyes, see whatever emotion was going to be there. 

If he brought up…  _ her,  _ Severus was going to use his wand to impale himself — he was quite sure of it. 

At a quarter to ten he left the confines of Spinner’s End, dreading every step he took. It took him two or three attempts to Apparate to Hogsmeade, a handful of minutes to collect his nerve and head up the road to the school. 

It felt so familiar —  yet haunting —  to be taking the same road to the same place he’d done as a student. Last time he’d taken the path, he was accompanied by Alecto and Amycus Carrow —  and a few years before that, it had been Lily. 

Severus finally reached the entry, and once he took a step inside, he was immediately greeted with the rush of belonging, it felt like it was running through his veins as he took a step into the familiar surroundings. But with the comforting feeling came memories; some bad, some —  no. No, all bad.

He went straight for Dumbledore’s office, not wanting to run into any of the students. That was the last thing he needed right now. He’d be seeing plenty of them once he began teaching. The entrance was already cleared when Severus reached the statue —  however, Dumbledore knew he was coming. Dumbledore always knew. 

Severus was right —  Dumbledore was waiting for him. He didn’t try to hide it as he stepped inside his office — it was plain in his stance and in his face. Severus tried to ignore the kindness in it, like the old man wasn’t disgusted to see him, repulsed by his actions and motivation for being here. 

_ The best of you, Severus —  _

The sunlight made Dumbledore’s eyes brighter, like they were a part of the sky outside. It was a clear day — clearer than it had been in months. 

“Good morning, Severus.” Dumbledore said. His tone was a mixture of mild curiosity — he  _ had  _ asked him here, hadn’t he? — and passiveness.  

“Headmaster.” Severus returned, inclining his head in greeting. 

They both stood in silence for what felt like far too long.

“You did ask to see me.” Severus said, slight irritation pervading his tone. It wouldn’t be abnormal for the Headmaster to ask someone over for  _ no reason,  _ and if that was the case today, Severus was going to jump out the window. However, there was something about the elderly man’s demeanor that made Severus think otherwise. The world was still too fragile to simply ignore the more pressing matters. 

Beside his desk, Dumbledore’s phoenix chirped brightly. Severus watched it, and wondered what it was like to burn time and time again, only to resurface like the past had been wiped clean. 

“How are you, my boy?” Dumbledore asked, motioning for him to take a seat. “How are you faring?”

Was he fucking  _ serious?  _ They weren’t going to have this conversation again — Severus was beyond pouring out his  _ feelings.  _ The other night… it had been the unimaginable. Never again. 

“How do you think I am?” His voice was like dry sand, scraping the corners of his throat.

Dumbledore got up from his seat and started to slowly pace as if he were pondering something. “I must admit, I didn’t think you would actually come today.” 

For a moment, Severus thought it was sarcasm until he remembered that Dumbledore had seen him a week prior, and  _ that  _ man had been a shell — a pathetic husk of a human being.

“It’s my fault.” Severus interrupted, finally speaking the words that had been ringing around his head for the past week, “I must live with it. There’s nothing more.” 

“We don’t need to go through this again, Severus.” Dumbledore’s tone was hard and soft at the same time, “It’s not your fault. The only person that will be held fully accountable for Lily Potter’s death is Tom Riddle.”

“I’m a Death Eater.” Severus said flatly. “I had a hand in her death as much as the Dark Lord did.”

Dumbledore’s voice was pensive and reflective as he spoke next. “Tom does not have the capability to love, yet the very best of you is rooted in love.”

“You say that love is the most powerful type of magic there is,” Severus looked up into the misty blue eyes in front of him. “It didn’t save Lily.  _ I  _ couldn’t save her.”

“I know.” Dumbledore said gravely. He could see a hint of regret and grief held in his eyes, and the room went silent for what felt like an eternity until he finally spoke again. “But it did save her children.” His tone now had a thoughtful ring to it. His fingers reached up to stroke Fawkes’ feathers. The bird nuzzled his hand. 

Severus sighed wearily, sick of hearing about matters of the heart. “Why did you ask me here, Dumbledore? There’s nothing more I can offer you until I begin teaching again.”

There was a long pause, and all that could be heard was the bitter November morning breeze ringing against the window sills. 

“I would like you to take the girl.” Dumbledore said.

Though he spoke at a normal volume, Dumbledore’s voice was like thunder echoing through Severus’ very being, almost suffocating him. 

He blinked. And then again. Several times, in fact. He was waiting for the old man to laugh, or even, morph into someone differently entirely — say something else that would make his nonsensical words transparent.

Nothing happened.  

“Is this a fucking joke?” Severus all but bleated. 

It was Dumbledore’s turn to blink, “On the contrary, it's a gesture of good faith.”

“Good  _ faith?”  _ Severus’ nostrils flared, “What the hell does that even — the  _ girl _ — I don't —”

“I need someone who I can trust without a shadow of a doubt.” He said calmly — Severus wanted to throw something at him and shatter the illusion — “You’ve sworn to protect them, and now more than ever, I need you to do so.”

“Why the fuck don’t you just send her to live with Petunia? Why is it crucial that someone  _ else  _ has to take the brat?”

“I don’t want them together for their own safety.” Dumbledore folded his hands tightly in front of him.

Bull _ shit – _

“That’s not it.” Severus snarled, “You and I both know that’s a  _ lie.” _

“It’s not,” Dumbledore said, eyebrows knitting together, “I would never purposefully deceive you, Severus. There is, however, another reason…”

He couldn’t help it – he tensed as he watched the old man’s face. 

“Petunia was rather…” Dumbledore’s eyes sharpened, the blue manifesting into something turbulent, “ _ vocal  _ about only taking Harry. She refused to take them both in.”

“She  _ refused?” _

Dumbledore’s head bowed, hiding his eyes from Severus’ view, but he could have sworn he caught something piercing in them for a fraction of a second. It was a cold kind of fury he’d never seen in him before. Dumbledore had looked at him with disgust, revulsion, and even contempt, yes, but never pure anger. 

“Petunia made it quite clear that two children were far too much under the circumstances. She… if I did not bring Ariel back here, she said she’d put the child in an orphanage, and I couldn’t let that happen after Tom…”

It was just like Petunia – to be petty and jealous and something so much uglier than herself. To turn away an innocent child – even if it  _ was  _ Potter’s – it was still Lily’s. It was her sister’s child… if Petunia had any, and something had happened to  _ her, _ Lily would have taken the infant in a heartbeat. Severus had suspected that Petunia’s resentment had run deep… but to turn away Lily’s daughter… 

“So then  _ make her.”  _ Severus forced through bared teeth. He was going to hurt someone if this meeting ended with  _ him  _ having to go and find someone suitable.

“If I could enforce it, don’t you think I would have?” Dumbledore sighed heavily, the lines in his forehead deepening, “The Blood Wards only work if Petunia  _ willingly  _ takes her. If I were to ignore her demands, then the wards would become null, and both of them would be in danger. It is better that at least Harry...” He removed his half-moon spectacles, “One of them under their protection is far better than neither.”

That seemed… wrong. In the bowels of his conscious, Severus felt his insides twist themselves around one another. If Lily were here — if she were hearing this — she would have Hexed Dumbledore out the window. She would have ripped Petunia apart with her words.  _ Separating  _ the brats didn't feel right — the boy would —

But then, who was Severus to object? The last thing he fucking needed was the old codger shoving  _ both  _ of them at him. They weren’t  _ his  _ responsibility.

_ Yet. _

So  _ why _ was he asking Severus –

“I don’t _want_ _it.”_ He snarled, “Get someone _else.”_

Dumbledore frowned, “You would turn down the first opportunity to protect Lily’s daughter?”

Severus couldn’t help it – he flinched at the Headmaster’s words. He would protect them yes, he would spy and lie and kill for them if need be, like he had for Lily, because she had been willing to die for  _ them,  _ but he wouldn’t  _ care  _ for either of them in any capacity. He  _ had  _ sworn… but not like  _ this… _

Severus covered his hand with his mouth and leaned forward, “How?”

“You’re talking in regards to your spying?” 

“No — I’m referring to the circus I run away with every spring.” 

Dumbledore ignored his sarcasm with a twitch of his mustache, “On paper, I will be registered as her guardian, but —”

“The why can’t  _ you  _ just take her?” Severus snarled, “This is far too much trouble for  _ me —  _ and I don’t — I am wholly  _ un _ suitable!” 

“I am an old man, my boy.” Dumbledore sighed, “I couldn’t possibly raise a child…” 

“And the  _ Death Eater can?”  _

“A Death Eater would not have done what you did for Lily.” Dumbledore looked at him, and it felt like he was looking straight through him, right into his soul, “A Death Eater would not be sitting in my office right now.” 

A small glass vase shattered next to him. Severus felt like the room was getting smaller — he couldn't think straight —

“Ah,” Dumbledore sighed, his mustache twitching, “I never did like that vase.”

_ And I never liked you, you senile fucking bastard. _

He glared, so viciously, so ferociously, that his face actually felt like it would crack in two. There was a burn in his throat that rendered him speechless.

“It's only temporary, Severus, if you wish it so.” Dumbledore said, his voice reassuring, but blue eyes watching him carefully, “If it is… too much, then I will search elsewhere… but I believe she is better off here. Hogwarts’ defenses are the closest thing to them. She will be safe here.” 

He wasn't getting out of this. He didn't know what Dumbledore would do — he didn't know him well enough — but he suspected that if he didn't do this, a cell would soon be his in Azkaban. He was  _ blackmailing him  _ with a  _ baby.  _ With  _ Potter’s brat.  _ Or he’d send her away someplace –

The wizarding world wasn’t  _ safe for them – _

Severus buried his face in his hands. “Why… why the fuck is it  _ me?  _ There must be hundreds of families… members of the Order…”

“I believe you're…  _ allegiances  _ make you the prime candidate.  You would never let harm come to the child, for Lily’s sake.”

“No,” Severus said carefully, “but I would not care about it for her sake either.”

Dumbledore’s face almost seemed to fall at his words, and Severus tried to ignore the way his chest tightened. Even in the face of her sister’s death, Petunia was as cold and bitter and jealousy-ridden as ever – determined to make everyone connected to Lily more miserable, even if they were related to her by blood. If Severus ever came face to face with her again, he’d go back on his word and make her suffer until her shriveled up soul left this world.

Severus swallowed back the hatred and felt it churn his stomach instead, “People will…  _ talk.”  _

He could hear Lucius already – see the cover of the Prophet. The Dark Lord would never buy any excuse Severus gave him for  _ this.  _ What was Dumbledore  _ thinking – _

“She will remain at Hogwarts.” Dumbledore said, as though he was reading and finishing Severus’ thoughts as they flowed through his mind, leaking into the space between them, “That is all they will know. If you are not seen together, then how could they possibly comment?”

“You want us  _ both  _ here? You’d risk your spy just to have someone look after the girl – something  _ anyone  _ else could do?”

“Not just anyone, Severus.” Dumbledore bowed his head, “Her upbringing will be crucial… I cannot risk what happened to Tom happening to another child.”

“And you think – that  _ I  _ – am somehow a means to an end?” Severus spluttered, unable to believe his ears, “I am not a good man, Dumbledore. If Potter were here – if…  _ she… ”  _ He couldn’t say her name yet – it clogged his throat and made his vision fuzzy. “They wouldn’t want this –  _ someone  _ –  _ anyone  _ else would be better suited than I.”

“I can think of no one better.” Dumbledore said simply. 

_ But WHY,  _ Severus wanted to scream at him. He hadn’t given him reasons. There were a million Severus could think of as to why he  _ shouldn’t  _ take the brat. He would ruin a child – the second he touched her, his darkness would seep into her and bring her to ruin. He couldn’t do that to Lily again… even if it was half-Potter, Severus wouldn’t let the small parts of Lily left disappear. It would hate him because it was half-Potter, and he would hate it because it was  _ half-Potter  _ and it looked like Lily it was a reminder of everything he’d feared come to pass it was his greatest mistake he’d  _ made that orphan —  _

The thing in his chest that was the remnants of his heart pulled in the opposite direction. He would to reach inside himself and grind it into powder – silence it once and for all.

“Let me kill Petunia — then they’ll have nowhere to go, and I’ll take them both, if you ask it of me.” Severus spat savagely. 

“Threats won't do anything.” Dumbledore said somberly, “And I won't allow them in my presence, Severus. I can’t.”

“Is this your way of keeping me in  _ line,  _ then?” Severus asked in a brittle voice.  

“You are… in pain.” Dumbledore said, and there was a kindness in his voice Severus did not understand and hated all at once. “A very long time ago, I was where you are. But now, I am thankful for that struggle, because without it, I would have not found my strength. I implore you to please reconsider.”

“No – I will spy for you, and I will protect them – lay down my life, if need be, but I will not do  _ this.” _ Severus stood, wildly looking for the door to escape. The portraits around him were giving him reproachful glares – one was even giving a disdainful tsk-tsk.

“Severus, please –” The Headmaster looked almost helpless – had he been in his right mind, Severus might have been shaken by it, “If you would only listen –”

Oh, but he  _ was  _ listening.

_ Unless —  _

“What if I were to convince Petunia to take the girl?” Severus asked him. The portraits went completely silent. “If I went to her and spoke to Petunia myself — what then?” 

Dumbledore blinked, “Then Ariel would go to them, but Severus —” 

If he said his name one more time, he was going to lose his damn mind. 

“Tell me where she is.” Severus hissed, longing to see the look on Petunia’s face when he showed up at her doorstep. “I’ll… do whatever it is that needs to be done. I won't harm her — I’ll… I’ll make her see that this is the only way.”

“Severus,” Dumbledore stood, the command to be silent very clear in his voice. Severus flinched, hating himself for it, “She will not take the girl. Of this I am certain.” 

“And neither will I.” He whispered back venomously. He’d throw himself out the balcony before he looked after James Potter’s brat, half Lily or not. 

Dumbledore gave him a look searching look. It made Severus feel like his insides were on display — like Dumbledore had found something deeper and uglier than the fate he had wrought upon Lily. 

He’d been right in saying that if this meeting ended with him having to find somewhere for Lily’s children to go, that he was going to kill someone. 

“Where is Petunia?” Severus asked, clutching at his wand. It had been, after all, a week since he’d performed any magic. 

Dumbledore told him. 


	3. Poor in Spirit

Privet Drive was a fucking waste of pavement and brick and foundation. 

It was ticky-tacky, and Muggle, and there was nowhere for him to meld into the shadows. It was open and bright and far too organized for Severus’ taste. Spinner’s End wasn’t his haven either — he fucking hated living in his parent’s house, but  _ this  _ made him want to start setting homes on fire. He’d sooner become the flying instructor at Hogwarts then set foot in suburban Muggle territory. 

This was where Lily’s children would grow up, he thought with a shudder. There was nothing Severus could do about that — Dumbledore’s mind was made up, and the Blood Wards were impenetrable. He tried to imagine Lily settling down here, and felt his hands begin to shake. He thought of a small version of her running down the street he was standing on, alongside a Potter-clone with Lily-eyes, and nearly keeled over. 

He fucking hated Muggle neighborhoods. He hated Petunia all the more for making him  _ be here.  _

Severus scanned the rows of lawns and picket fences, trying to incinerate each door with his glare as he searched for number four.  He soon found himself face to face with a deep chestnut brown door with a brass knocker that had been much too polished, which he didn’t bother using. He unlocked the front door with a wandless spell. 

Severus took one step into the front hallway and immediately wrinkled his nose, artificial scents of air fresheners and a strong smell of tea filling his nostrils. Everything about this place screamed one word:  _ Muggle. _ Severus had to force himself to blink several times as he took in the parlor. 

White. Everything was so  _ clean, _ so bright in a disturbing kind of way, and  _ so white _ . 

Lily would have hated it. 

It was exactly the kind of place Severus had expected Petunia to end up in – or at least, it was where her happy ending was placed. If Severus could have dictated her fate, he would have put her right smack dab in the middle of some god-forsaken scrap of land in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by magic-practicing hermits.

It was unsettling. Severus recalled Petunia cleaning Lily’s house when they’d been children, her annoyance if something wasn’t where it should be or a mark on the furniture enough to sour her mood for days. Anything out of place — a speck of dirt on the carpet — would mean that something wasn’t right, and if something wasn’t  _ right,  _ it wasn’t  _ normal,  _ and if she valued anything, it was her normalcy. It was the one thing that Petunia could do right, in her mind. She could be the ordinary one, something her logic stated that her sister wasn’t capable of. Petunia would, in fact, be  _ so  _ conventional that she would land herself at the complete opposite end of the spectrum, even if the one Petunia had established inside her jealousy-riddled brain didn’t count or matter. 

No — magic and Lily did not belong here, Severus the least of all of them. 

There were pictures of what looked like a piglet scattered about on the mantle, on side tables, hanging on the walls. Several of them contained Petunia, who looked exactly the same, and a man who strongly reminded Severus of the men that he’d see lurking about the corners of bars in cars, back when Lily had stopped speaking to him and Severus had wandered Cokeworth aimlessly. 

There were no Muggle photographs of Lily. None of Potter. None of their children. 

He’d been too busy taking in the unfamiliar surroundings to notice a familiar figure creeping out of the door at the end of the hallway.

“My husband will be home any minute.” A shaky, whiny voice said behind his back, “And if you’re here when he is, you’ll regret it.” 

Severus had forgotten how much he hated her voice. The contempt and disgust were still there, like it had always been. It nearly covered the fear that was there too — she clearly thought him a burglar. Severus wondered if she was capable of diluting it from her tone, or if had just become a part of her, like Lily’s incomprehensible heart had become a part of him. 

Though he hadn’t seen her in years, Petunia Evans was almost just as recognizable. The same horse-like skinny face with the prominent cheekbones. The dull, mousy brown hair — she was the complete opposite of her sister, lacking the vibrancy Lily had possessed — lit up every room, lit up every heart around her. 

“Hello,  _ Tuney.” _ Severus sneered in greeting. Lily’s sister or not, he still loathed her — loathed her even more for making him come here because she wanted to be petty and jealousy, even with her sister gone — 

Petunia was gaping at him like he’d grown another head, and for a moment, Severus wondered if she recognized him. Struggling on the verge of speech, a look of realization formed on her thin face. 

Her eyes cleared, and the scorn in them made him bare his teeth in a smile. 

_ “Snape.”  _ Petunia crossed her arms tightly. Her chin was trembling, but the tense air between them was making Severus’ teeth rattle. “The older wizard sent you?” 

Severus’ eyes narrowed — she wasn’t… her reaction wasn’t right. Petunia hadn’t seen him in  _ years.  _ The last time they’d seen each other face to face, he’d been fifteen, and then, of course, he’d seen her from a distance whenever he’d come home from Hogwarts after Lily had ended their friendship. 

No — Petunia had been  _ expecting him.  _

Severus paused before he answered. “When I heard you were still being an insufferable twat, I decided I had to come and see it for myself. Really, Petunia, your misery truly does poison everyone around you. Is it because the girl looks like her, or because you can’t bear to think of another child having something you can never have?”

For a moment, Severus considered the idea that he was being too cruel. She had, after all, just lost her sister. Her eyes filled with pain, and Severus felt something akin to empathy trying to creep into that tattered thing Dumbledore claimed was his heart. But then her face tightened — the lines multiplied, and a fresh wave of hatred rolled over her thin features.  

Petunia squared her chin, though she was very clearly trembling, “Get out of my house before I call the police.” 

Severus almost felt a laugh forming in his throat. “Police? And what, pray tell, will they do?”

“I’m serious. I’ll pick up the phone right now —” 

Severus reached for his wand in his sleeve, watching in satisfaction Petunia’s eyes widened in fear. He smiled — or rather, bared his teeth — and wondered what Dumbledore would say if he were here. Had it not been Severus’ job just days ago to threaten people in their homes? Dumbledore would rebuke him, say there was no place for threats here, but if Petunia didn’t heed him, Severus was quite sure he was going to go completely mad.  _ Then  _ Dumbledore would have a  _ real  _ problem. 

“And what, Petunia?” He asked softly, relishing the look on her face. It almost made his visit worth it. 

She sputtered incoherently for several moments, her eyes trained on his wand. He’d never pulled it on her before, but Lily had when they’d been younger. Even if she hadn’t, Severus didn’t think Petunia was  _ so  _ dense 

“You know what I’m here for.” Severus ignored her attempt at trying to be intimidating and cut to the chase. He didn’t have the patience for this right now — not with the brat’s fate hinging between her and himself. Gods, that was fucking depressing to think about. 

“Get  _ out!” _ She spat at him.

He walked towards her, wand gripped tightly in his hand and will building. Petunia didn’t back away, and for a moment, Severus thought of Lily, and how she would have never lowered herself to fear him. 

“Threatening me won’t do you any good.” Petunia said in a much softer voice, though the edges of her high voice pulsed with disdain still. “That… that man — Dumbledore — yes. He said I’m the only thing protecting the boy. If you hurt me…” 

Of course Dumbledore would have explained the blood wards to her. It’s not like Petunia could just take in her sister’s children without making it as difficult as it could be for everyone connected to Lily. 

“I know what you’ve done.” She went on, her thin lips setting into a sneer. “Lily told me… that  _ freak  _ word you called her. Clearly you still don’t know when you’re not wanted.” 

Severus felt a sharp pang in his stomach. He had wondered over the years if Lily would have told Petunia what had happened between them. He’d almost hoped, in the event that if their paths ever crossed again, so that he wouldn’t have to restrain himself. 

It was his lucky day, it seemed. 

He could hear the tone in Petunia’s whiny voice, laced with a hint that she knew more than he did. It both worried him and annoyed him, and the worry was boring right into his skin, especially now that he had collected his mind back to him. The last few days had been a whirlwind and now that he had stopped, Severus’ brain was entering overdrive.

“If you care enough to come here, you might as well take her, suitable or not.” Petunia crossed her arms. “ _ I’m _ not taking her.”

“Are you really gonna pull  _ that  _ fucking card?” Severus felt the lines in his face harden. “Was this  _ your  _ idea? Did you —” His vision was blurring. “Did  _ you  _ tell Dumbledore to make me take her?” 

_ “I  _ didn’t have to tell him anything!” 

“Then what is this about, Petunia?” Severus finally snapped, his anger washing over him in waves, pulling back the small part of him that was desperate to convince her like the tide. “She’s your niece, for fuck’s sake. Scrape together  _ some  _ remaining empathy and take the brat.”

Petunia’s eyes flashed, and the thin muscles in her neck clenched as she lifted her head, a haughty look slowly appearing on her face. Severus was far too angry to be bewildered by it, but the part of him that wasn’t desperate questioned her reaction. 

“She cared about you, you know.” Petunia threw at him. “Even after she washed herself of you, only for her to pacify her insecurities by seeing you again and doing what she did… oh yes, she told me all about that — told me and then ran off with that Potter boy, and had  _ her.  _ And then the boy — like bringing  _ one  _ child into an unnatural situation wasn’t good enough!” 

The hole where his heart had been shuddered — it grew and ebbed until Severus felt like his entire chest was going to be ripped from him. It was the one memory that he’d clung to for months now, but the second Dumbledore had told him that Lily and Potter were dead, it had become this great black hole inside his mind. Everything good that had or could have possibly stemmed from it had been obliterated. Severus couldn’t stand to think of it now, or even again. And if  _ Petunia —  _ why would Lily have told  _ her sister of all people —  _

_ “That,”  _ Severus said in a voice that was barely a whisper, but made his teeth rattle, “has nothing to do with why you're putting a child out on the street.”

Petunia’s face twitched in genuine confusion. “ _ A _ child? Is that how you’re going to refer to her?”

Severus gritted his teeth. “I don’t have time for this. You’re her only family left —  she doesn’t have anybody  _ else _ , Petunia.  _ Take _ the damn girl.”

Her eyebrows furrowed, like he was somehow insulting her. 

“You ruin my sister with your talk of your freak school and your magic tricks, and then you bring another tainted child into this world and have the nerve to say  _ I’m  _ abandoning it?” 

“I didn’t  _ ruin —” _

Everything around him seemed to stop, frozen in time and space. He suddenly couldn’t smell the strong smell of air freshening or tea, and the annoyance he’d felt a second ago had vanished, replaced with a dizziness feeling crawling through his body, making it’s way to his head, and everything clicked.

She thought… that… the brat… was somehow — 

“Have you lost your  _ mind?”  _ Severus snarled as his teeth set, “The girl isn’t — she isn’t  _ mine.” _

“Don’t you dare stand here and lie to me, Snape.” Petunia threw back at him, as though he were suddenly an afterthought. “She’s not my responsibility. So why are you here, really? Trying to ease your conscious?”

“I’m here to ensure that Lily’s daughter goes to you,” Severus’ words hardened as he gritted his teeth, “because you're her  _ only family left.”  _

“Is that what you were lead to believe, Snape?” 

_ Lead to believe —  “ _ I’ve already told you — I am no one’s father, especially  _ hers.”  _

“You are.” Petunia said seriously, taking a step towards him. “Lily told me so.” 

The shields shuddered and groaned inside his mind. His brain felt like it was being scrambled. Severus nearly dropped his wand. 

“That’s impossible.” He whispered. 

“Ask him — ask the old man who was here when I refused to take the girl.” Petunia sniffed, looking proud. “He knew all about it. Said you weren’t  _ fit —  _ but once I heard you were alive, I told him I wouldn’t take the girl when you were perfectly capable.”

Severus wanted to rip the earth in two with his mind. Something was tapping away at his shields, a claw scratching on glass, a hammer slamming into drywall, a Stunner to the chest — 

_ I want you to take the girl,  _ Dumbledore had told him — he’d said that and hadn’t given him a reason because there wasn’t  _ any  _ reason  _ why  _ Severus should take Lily’s daughter. Not Severus, a Death Eater, a being with some twisted semblance of a heart inside of him. Not he, who had killed Lily by trying to find some worth that did not lie with her friendship and love and kindness. Even after she had found him alone in that bar and seen his quiet desperation — 

Severus felt his entire chest cavity fall to his feet. He could not — the room was spinning — the white furniture was too bright, like the sun outside, and everything was overwhelming him as he struggled to steady himself, because he would  _ not  _ lose his mind in front of fucking Petunia.

He turned to find the front door as a child’s cries reached his ears. A baby, wailing, from somewhere upstairs. Severus briefly recalled upon seeing the wreckage at Godric’s Hollow… a familiar cry… 

He had to get out of here. 

“Wait…” Petunia looked at him, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion, “The boy — he’s upstairs.”

“I’m not here for him.” Severus threw behind his shoulder, hoping his words would hit her like harpoons. 

“You don't want to see him?”

“No.” Severus said, letting the cold in his mind deep into his voice. Petunia opened her mouth to argue, but before she could utter another word, Severus turned on his heel and threw open the front door.  

He Apparated.

The ground was unsteady as Severus panted up the road back to Hogwarts — he’d barely registered his surroundings when he’d landed. Hogsmeade’s streets were more crowded than they had been this more, whispers of  _ You-Know-Who  _ and  _ Potter  _ and  _ Children-Who-Lived  _ reaching Severus’ ears. He’d heard them this morning, recalling echoes of the happy shouts that had filled the air, but hadn’t paid them any mind. He’d been too preoccupied thinking about his meeting with Dumbledore. 

Now, it was taking everything Severus had to keep it together. His vision was a blur as he pushed past people, his focus on getting to the road back up to Hogwarts once more. He had to get to Dumbledore, he had to have this madness explained — Petunia — 

His feet stopped and he collapsed in the middle of the dirt road. 

The memories Petunia had alluded to came flooding back to him in an instant. These were the very memories that he had been blocking out for the past week — for the year he’d spent spying for Dumbledore. It had been a memory he’d clung on to for dear life in the months before Lily’s death, but now, it had done nothing but heighten his grief. Severus recalled the day he’d read the marriage announcement in the paper, nearly two months after they’d been together, and then seven months later, they’d had a daughter.

The blood drained from Severus’ face. Surely, Petunia… could not have been — 

Like a man possessed, Severus racked his brain to calculate the length of time between their liaison the child’s birthday. He’d known both the girl and the boy’s from the Prophecy — 

_ Born as the seventh month dies and the eighth breathes new life, _

He’d seen her days before Christmas… it had been the last time he’d ever seen her — 

_ so shall be their fates _

And then he’d heard about the engagement, and then there was a baby, and then another, and soon enough she had a whole family and Severus had ripped it in two — 

_ And what will you give me in return Severus  _

And no, Lily wouldn’t have told Severus, because she was much smarter than that. She would have recognized the danger the way she’d recognized that Severus could not be saved, and she’d of done whatever she had to do — 

_ Anything _

She would not have told him. 

_ The repugnant look in his eyes, mingled with some great ache Severus didn’t understand or know  _

She couldn’t tell him now, because she was dead. 

_ I must say, Severus, I am… disappointed.  _

If he had a daughter, then that meant he had almost killed her. 

He retched into a nearby bush, steadying himself on the trunk of a large fir. He’d never considered the possibility… never connected the frames of time that had passed and the events in-between. 

In that moment, he knew it was true. Petunia hadn’t been fucking with him — Lily  _ had  _ told her. She’d gone to her horrid sister because she’d been carrying  _ his  _ child, and she couldn’t tell him because Severus was a Death Eater. If the Dark Lord had known, he’d of killed her and the child, and then Severus. Even if Severus had hidden them away, the Dark Lord would have hunted them down — 

He’d been putting her in danger long before he’d delivered the Prophecy to the Dark Lord. She’d not asked the price he’d paid — he’d simply lived with his quiet rage with himself, with her, with Potter and the Dark Lord and the entire fucking war. 

And it had ended with Lily, where Severus had begun. 

He stood and faced the castle, where his childhood and innocence had ended. 

Dumbledore was waiting for him by the main entrance. He had a way of sensing one’s presence before it was announced. It reminded Severus of how Dumbledore could Apparate without making a sound — he nearly snorted with irony. 

He stood there in those ridiculous, compassion so thick that Severus nearly choked on it. He could only imagine what he looked like — his face felt cold and limbs heavy. His breathing was labored. 

Severus swept towards him silently.

“I want to see her.” He told him. He didn’t think he could speak above a whisper without his throat collapsing in on itself. 

He did. He wanted to see the child. 

_ (He didn’t it terrified him he shouldn’t be allowed near her Lily had not told him for a reason the Dark Lord was gone Lily was gone) _

Dumbledore nodded mutely. He lead the way out of the door, and Severus followed. He couldn’t feel his body — it was like he was walking completely on automation. 

“Minerva has been watching her.” Dumbledore said in a soft voice, like he was fearful that if he spoke a volume higher, he would scare Severus away. 

He nodded numbly. Yes — McGonagall, even if she was the epitome of everything Gryffindor — was more than capable of watching over a child. Severus hadn’t even thought to ask where Lily’s daughter was before Dumbledore had thrown his proposition in his face. 

Severus felt his heartbeat quicken as they approached the door to McGonagall’s office. He couldn’t feel it inside of his chest, but he could in his ears. The blood was roaring so loud that it drowned out the creak of the door as it opened, the words exchanged between Dumbledore and McGonagall. He could see the small shadow of a child behind the sofa, see the hem of her dress — 

He wanted himself to hate her the second he saw her. He wanted to feel that pull — that familiar rush of loathing and revulsion whenever he’d looked at someone he didn’t want to be looking at. It came so easily to him now, to be horrid to others and find solace in their disgust. 

Her head turned towards him and Severus felt his mind telling him to  _ run —  _

It didn’t have his nose, thank Merlin. Dumbledore had been telling the truth when he’d mentioned that the girl looked like Lily — it was there in her nose and the shape of her mouth and cheeks. Her hair was the same shade of red. Severus wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. It was like her gaze was pinning him down, rendering incapable of looking away. Her eyes — 

They were dark — not hazel, like Potters. Definitely not the bright green Lily’s had been —  _ the boy has her eyes —  _

He was looking at his own, plastered on a little carbon copy on Lily again. 

Severus was seriously afraid he was going to be sick. 

They blinked at him, said  _ “who are you?”  _ but didn’t hold the wariness his did. They widened, her lips pursing themselves in small degrees of calculation, or whatever it was a two-year-old’s mind did. And then Severus saw it — a sharpness in her face, in her chin, the way the child stood — 

She toddled over to McGonagall, hiding behind her robes as she peeked at him shyly. Severus felt himself let out the breath he’d unconsciously been holding in. Her index finger pointed in his direction as she tugged on McGonagall’s robes, looking up at her imploringly. 

“Do we point?” McGonagall raised an eyebrow at her, though her voice was anything but reprimanding. The girl grinned sheepishly and covered her face with her hands instead. 

“Would you mind giving us a moment, Minerva?” Dumbledore asked from beside him in an annoyingly bright voice. 

McGonagall’s eyes narrowed at them both, “You want a  _ moment  _ with a two-year-old?” 

“I would.” Dumbledore said, “I find that sometimes, children are the very best at holding the most interesting conversations.” 

If Severus had to listen to the Gryffindor banter for another minute, he was going to scream. The girl was looking between all three of them now, looking confused. Every time Severus’ eyes met hers, some of the feeling in his fingertips faded. 

The girl rushed back to the couch, climbing over the arm of it and disappearing behind the cushions. Severus was grateful, though only for a minute. McGonagall gave him another reproachful glare as she passed by them. If Severus had the strength, he’d of snarled something at her. 

“She doesn’t trust me.” Severus gave Dumbledore a sharp look, “You want to entrust me with the girl and bring me into your school, and your staff thinks I might murder children as a pastime.” 

“She doesn’t know the circumstances.” He said gently. 

“She is right to mistrust me.” Severus snapped, “I’ve been named a Death Eater, and now you’re parading me about the school… you want me to raise a child…” 

“I am trying to give you something that is rightfully yours.” Dumbledore said, clasping his hands together tightly in front of him. “It is entirely up to you what kind of life you want Ariel to have.”

He couldn’t give her the life he wanted her to have — not anymore. If Severus could have, he’d of given anything to bring Lily back, even Potter, to raise the girl. That way she would grow up loved and surrounded by people who would make sure she wanted for nothing. 

He didn’t understand the possessive feeling that melded with his grief. The word  _ mine  _ was panging around inside of his head. Severus tried to silence it — it couldn’t be his. The child with his eyes would grow up never knowing her mother, only knowing her sacrifice and the man she had married. She’d grow up without a brother. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Severus rasped, forcing himself with everything he had not to look at the tiny face peeking over the top of the couch. 

“I was trying to spare you.” Dumbledore said quietly, “I knew that once you saw the child yourself you would realize. Petunia was…” 

“A miserable cunt?” Severus supplied, his knuckles cracking at his sides. 

Dumbledore gave him a disapproving look, one that shot straight through him and to something behind him. When Severus followed his gaze, he found that the girl was watching them with curious eyes from the couch. When her eyes met his, Severus stopped breathing again. His lungs were burning, like they’d been doused with bleach and hung out to dry. 

“She was adamant that she would not raise  _ your  _ child.” said Dumbledore. Severus could feel him staring at him in his peripheral vision. He couldn’t take his eyes off the Lily-clone with his fucking eyes. “I too was… surprised Lily had told her.”

The girl had noticed him staring, finally. Severus tried to muster some remaining cruelty and get her to look away with his glare, but instead, she smiled bashfully at him and flopped back down behind the pillows. 

It was going to kill him, if he didn't kill himself first, which wasn't likely anymore. He was no coward —  _ yes he was yes you are Severus Snape —  _

“Lily came to me shortly after she and her family went into hiding.” Dumbledore went on, his voice muted, like they were suddenly underwater. “I had mentioned that the Prophecy had referenced the parents, and she had hoped that because James was not the girl’s biological father that it would no longer apply to Ariel and Harry.” He straightened his half-moon spectacles. “It was my hope that you would see the girl and… form an opinion without any preconceived notions about her paternity.” 

“Why?” Severus demanded, “What difference would it make?”

“Sometimes, it is loss that teaches us the worth of things.” Dumbledore said. “I believe there’s a cry for the heart to see the beauty of love as it was made.”

Severus gave him a withered glare. Love had not been enough to save Lily. His love, Potter’s love,  _ their’s…  _

But it had saved her son and daughter.  _ His —  _

When he turned back towards the couch, he found that the girl was creeping out from behind the couch. Once she caught him looking at her again, she let out a gasp and ran back around. 

He could hear Lily in her laugh. 

“The boy…” Severus cleared his throat, “Lily… she wouldn’t want this. To separate them… to leave him with Petunia…” 

“Harry is safest with her.” Dumbledore said quietly. “I realize that this is not… ideal. But what’s done is done.”

“And what of their upbringing? You’ll keep them from one another?” 

“When the time is right, they’ll be reunited.” 

“But why keep them apart at all?”

Dumbledore’s eyes glistened. “It’s for the greater good, my boy.”

He wasn’t going to argue the point any further. Severus hadn’t the heart or the mind for it anymore. He shouldn’t care what happened to Potter’s son — when Petunia had asked him if he’d wanted to see the boy, as if Severus would  _ want to.  _

“If I don’t take her,” Severus asked without looking up, “where will you send her?” 

Dumbledore didn’t answer for a long moment. “I would do what I can to keep her at Hogwarts… but I’m afraid her stay here has only been to due the Ministry’s lack of organization at the moment. They’re concerned with capturing with Death Eaters. Once they collect themselves, which will be no longer than another day or so, I’m sure they’ll take the girl and place her where they see fit. Perhaps they’d take her back to Petunia… that would be the worst case scenario. I imagine.” 

Severus swallowed, and let his eyes close, “If I do this…  no one can’t know. I don’t…  _ she  _ can’t know. This is to stay between us, Dumbledore.”

“Of course.” The Headmaster agreed, his blue eyes lighter but tone sombre, “I don’t think Tom would react well to finding that his spy fathered one of the children that destroyed him.”

Destroyed him… it was still talking Severus a moment to remember that the Dark Lord was gone. He was gone, and so was Lily, and Potter, and the world that Severus had once known. One where he was a Death Eater, and Lily was alive, and he was no one’s father. 

“But Severus,” Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder. “The hard part is not making the decision. It is living with it.” 

His chest felt like Dumbledore’s Patronus in the dark hallway back at Spinner’s End. His Occlumency shields were stronger and firmer than ever, though they rattled wildly as the child gazed up at him with curious Severus-eyes. It was bizarre — if there was a word that explained the existential madness of it, he’d of had it engraved on his tombstone — to see a mirror of himself on another’s face. The girl’s eyes were so unlike his, and yet, entirely familiar all at once. They looked like moonlight stretched over a lake at night. 

The girl crept closer, and Severus saw his hand move towards her without his permission. 

She grabbed a fistful of his hair, flexing her fingers around it before letting go. Severus inclined his head and kept perfectly still. He didn't notice that his breath had begun to come out in harsh pants until Dumbledore approached him from behind. He turned to look at him — Dumbledore was smiling at the girl. 

And then she smiled, and if it had not been for Severus’ shields, it would have blinded him. 

And his treacherous, the shriveled up remnants of his heart, without his permission,  _ soared.  _


	4. Growing Pains

_ 1 September, 1990 _

* * *

 

The face in the mirroring was frowning.

Ariel scowled back, wiggling her eyebrows to add some vibrato. It wasn't one Severus would be proud of, but it was rather fearsome, if she said so herself. The freckles over the bridge of her nose took away from it though. She loved that particular part about her face. Her mum had freckles in the same exact spot, and her mum had been beautiful. 

She hated the quiet of night. There was something about it that rubbed her the wrong way. She didn’t know what it was — perhaps it was that she was never really  _ tired,  _ or because she disliked the dark. When she’d been younger, Ariel had scrambled on top of the windowsill in the living room and told her father that she was going to make the sun rise. He’d let her believe it, for a while anyway, that when she opened her eyes the next morning and the sun hit her face, it meant that  _ she  _ had done that, but that fantasy wasn’t useful anymore. She was eleven now — she wasn’t allowed to believe in stuff like that. 

It was cold, the kind that focused on your hands and feet. The rain made a  _ patpatpat  _ sound against the windowpane, and Ariel was pretty sure that it was going to turn to hail soon. It was  _ that  _ sort of summer rain — the kind that settled into the house and then turned into a monsoon within seconds. As Ariel padded from the bathroom and back to her bedroom, her eyes briefly flitted to the door of her father’s study. He’d gone to bed only an hour or so ago. She’d wanted to stay up with him, but she suspected he needed his solitude tonight, even if Ariel hadn’t wanted hers. 

Once back inside her bedroom, she reached for the lock on the window, peeking over her shoulder at the door for any signs that she’d alerted her father that she was still awake. It was hard to tell where he did and didn’t have wards, sometimes. The window shouldn’t be a problem. No one could get  _ in,  _ and she sure as hell knew she couldn’t get  _ out _ without starting the apocalypse. One time, when she’d been younger, she’d tried climbing out to see what would happen, and her father had lost his voice for three days. 

The soft glow the came with nighttime filtered in through the glass as Ariel slowly unhooked the lock, tensing up and readying herself to dive back into bed should she hear footsteps coming down the hall. Thankfully, nothing happened, and she grinned. A soft breeze filtered in, droplets of rain hitting her skin. It felt good — she liked rain a great deal more than she liked night. There was something soothing about it Ariel couldn’t put her finger on. 

The smell was starting to get to her. The two cauldrons popping and fizzing from inside her closet were either on their way to becoming Dreamless Sleep, or were beyond hope. Her father had locked up all the potions textbooks, including the one they’d bought her for school, ever since she’d started brewing in her room. Her father would kill Ariel if he found  _ this  _ batch — she’d managed to smuggle one of his smaller cauldrons from the basement and the one they’d bought her from the basement. Dumbledore had come by and her father had left the door unlocked. Severus usually hid them quite well, so she had to keep a sharp eye out for an opportunity to get some practice in. 

She made a face as the first cauldron made an obnoxious sucking sound. Really, it was a wonder he hadn’t found them already. Tomorrow morning, when she finally got her wand, Ariel would get rid of them. Her father had shown her that spell at the start of the summer. 

In her defense, she couldn’t sleep tonight, even if she tried. Her dreams lately were… weird. Or rather, stranger than usual. She’d grown used to having bad nightmares — she’d stopped seeking out her father, even if she was scared. If she was going to be a Gryffindor, like her mum and dad, she’d have to learn how to stop being scared of things that weren’t real. And Severus  _ hated  _ when he woke him up… but, then again, Severus hated a lot of things. 

Ariel wondered if her mum had liked summer. She wondered what mum would have said to her… if she’d be able to reassure her that being nervous was ridiculous. She wondered if the sun brought out the freckles on her face like they did on Ariel’s. 

She wondered if Harry, wherever he was, had freckles on his nose too. 

Photo-Mum and Photo-Dad waved from the picture she had taped on the wall. Photo-Harry was gnawing at her dad’s scarf. 

Ariel smiled at them, and for some strange reason, her heart hurt. 

* * *

The pounding of footsteps skidding down the hall woke Severus with a jolt.

Footsteps were a good and bad thing, in his opinion. It meant that the girl had not died during the night, but it also meant that she was awake before him, which constituted trouble. Severus groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. The girl being up this early only meant one thing — that she hadn't been able to sleep. Usually, getting her up to start the day was like trying to tame a dragon. 

He supposed that one's first day of school might stir nerves. Or his daughter was just antsy and impatient. Severus swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing as a door slammed. 

“For the love of Merlin.” Severus muttered, irritation seeping into his already sour mood. He’d been dreading today — he fucking hated the start of term. Especially  _ this  _ start of term. 

He dressed quickly and stalked down the narrow hallway, finding the cramped bathroom door slightly ajar. Severus smacked his palm against it, causing it to creak open slowly. 

The person in question turned mid-toothbrush stroke. 

She was a skinny thing, something Minerva often pointed out. The pale bump of a nose had stayed just that — not the hooked appendage Severus had loathed in his youth. Her hair was still that wine red that fell down to her back. Minerva had insisted he get it cut, but Ariel had thrown a fit nearly every time he’d suggested it to her. The sharpness he’d seen in her as an infant had only grown, but her eyes were warm and bright. Sometimes Severus questioned if they really were his, until Ariel became angry, when they’d spark and glitter into something he hated to see plastered on her face. 

He looked down at her, unamused as she grinned sheepishly up at him. He raised an unkempt eyebrow down at her. 

“Morning.” She said through a mouth full of toothpaste. 

“You’re causing enough racket to wake the dead.” He snapped,  _ “What  _ are you doing?” 

“Brushing my teeth.” She said innocently, the light in her dark eyes telling him something entirely different. 

“Really?” He asked flatly, “What, may I ask, prompted you to rise early, then?” 

“Well, you see, the sun rises, and  _ that  _ means that the day has started —”

He growled down at her — she lost the cheeky smirk. 

“I couldn't sleep.” She turned and spat into the sink. 

“So you decided to impose yourself on those still sleeping?” Severus rolled his eyes, “Your roommates will think you a plague upon them.” 

Ariel stiffened, bracing herself against the sink and she turned to face him again. “I’m just restless ‘cuz of… y’know.” 

He was about to tell her that being nervous shouldn’t translate to her being  _ loud —  _ ridiculous girl — but it was then that the scent of something wafted into the hallway. It smelt like something was burning… and then had crawled into a barrel of toxic waste and died. 

“What is  _ that?” _ He asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion. 

A deafening explosion answered him. 

Ariel went very still, her eyes widening in horror as a hand raised itself to her mouth. She looked like she wanted to disappear into the floorboards. Severus wished he could be surprised, or even bring himself to be as livid as he felt he could be, but this new Ariel-phenomena was too draining. She’d begun brewing in her room nearly a year ago. Severus didn’t know how she managed to smuggle the ingredients or the cauldrons — he suspected Dumbledore had something to do with it. He’d been forced to lock up the potions textbooks, but she’d been watching him brew nearly all her life. It was his own fault she’d learned by memorization — he’d created  _ that  _ monster. 

Severus closed his eyes tightly, and pretended like his head wasn’t about to pop off his shoulders. “What was that?” 

“Um… I don’t know.” 

He let an eye slip open to glare. He really wasn't in any kind of mood to entertain her dodging. 

“I’m being serious!” She said in a loud voice, squirming under his glare. “I might’ve… had two potions…  _ simmering…” _

Oh good fucking  _ grief —  _

_ “Two?”  _ His nostrils flared.

She winced, “I was… I couldn’t sleep! I was trying to brew some Dreamless Sleep and couldn’t remember if the lavender went in before or after the Valerian sprigs… I don’t know which one that was…”  

“So you did a trial and error.” Severus guessed flatly. “By stealing one of my cauldrons.  _ Again.”  _

Ariel ducked her head. “M’sorry. I didn’t think it had gone…  _ that  _ wrong.” 

Severus said nothing, afraid that if he did, he’d say something that would turn an already incredibly unpleasant day into a nightmare. He grabbed her arm and dragged her down the hallway, slowly opening her bedroom door to inspect the damage. 

Her closet door was hanging by it’s hinges, the entire right side of her bed covered with a dark green, gelatinous substance. It was dripping from the ceiling and seeping down the walls. Severus recalled, with a steadying breath, the first time Ariel had blown up a cauldron in her room, and how he’d nearly had a heart attack, thinking that someone had broken through his wards and found her here — 

_ “Lovely.” _ He let go of her arm. “Did it cross your muddled mind what would have happened if you had still been sleeping?”

She was staring at the ceiling as a clump of the botched drought fell to the floor with a satisfied plopping sound. “I reckon I’d be in the shower right about now.” 

“More like St Mungo’s.” Severus glowered down at her, but she didn’t seem to notice. He banished the mess with a wave of his wand. “You cannot be doing this in your dormitory, Ariel. You shouldn’t be doing it  _ here,  _ but apparently, my warnings fall on deaf ears.” 

“You weren’t supposed to see.” He heard her mutter. “I was gonna get rid of them once you gave me my wand.” 

“I should put it in the rubbish bin after this!” He snapped, and her eyes widened in horror. He’d never do such a thing, of course. Ariel would be crushed, and he didn’t have the will to do that to her. The girl was practically jumping out of her skin at the prospect of being Sorted. He’d wanted to get rid of it, when he’d heard what Ollivander had said about it, demand  _ another  _ wand — 

But that was a different matter. The problem at hand was that his daughter was a disobedient pyromaniac. 

“I’m sorry.” Ariel grimaced, “Really. I just couldn’t sleep…” 

“You could have  _ asked me.”  _ Severus snapped. 

“I didn’t want to bother you…” 

Gods, children, even if they were his, and Lily’s, could be so bloody aggravating. 

“Ridiculous girl.” He said, and Ariel looked away, clearly embarrassed she’d been caught. “Do you ever think before you act?” 

“I  _ did _ think.” She said, “I thought of how I couldn’t sleep, and how I couldn’t remember if the lavender went in before the sprigs.”

Severus leaned against the doorway and covered his eyes with his hand. It was only eight in the morning, and he could feel a headache coming on. The girl hadn’t even been Sorted yet. 

“I am going to leave the room.” He said slowly, and in a voice that let her know how close to breaking something he was. “And when I do, you are not going to follow until I call you. Is that understood?” 

She nodded meekly, and Severus left her in order to stew in his own thoughts, in the remaining moments before term began and all hell broke lose. 

* * *

It was a terrible way to start off the morning — making her father angry. Ariel blamed her insomnia as a momentary lapse in sanity. She could tell Severus was  _ really  _ mad at her when he didn’t talk, and that’s what he was doing now. He got really quiet before he got loud, which was why she was hiding out in her room while he did whatever it was her father did to cool off.

There was a lot of banging coming from the kitchen, which gave her a pretty good idea. Ariel hoped he showed mercy on the cutlery. 

Ariel flopped down onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling, which had several watermarks in it. Spinner’s End seemed to be a collection of that — watermarks and peeling paint and clutter. She didn’t mind it, and neither did her father, but she got the feeling sometimes that he hated it here. 

She sat up and huffed, looking at her reflection in the mirror attached the old vanity. The furniture in her room had apparently been Severus’ mother’s, which was a thought that made her head hurt. Severus wasn't the kind of person that looked like he had a mother — she wouldn't have been all that surprised if he told her he’d just  _ come to be _ in the middle of Cokeworth one day, complete with black robes and a scowl. 

Dark eyes, black, even, stared back at her. They weren’t from Lily or James, a part about she almost liked because of it. They were simply  _ hers.  _

Ariel rose and threw on the first things her hands touched. Most of her stuff was packed in her trunk already, but she’d kept some stuff here for her father to bring with him to his quarters, just in case. She almost regretted not setting an outfit aside as she frowned at the mirror. The sweater she’d chosen looked like it was eating her. 

A quick rapping at her door broke her from her thoughts, making her nearly drop her the hairbrush she’d picked up. 

Ariel opened the door to find her father in his usual all-black attire. He wore the same thing every single day, though Ariel could hardly judge him. He  _ could _ wear the kinds of robes the Headmaster wore, which in her opinion, made her eyes hurt. Her father had up and left the Great Hall one day when he saw Dumbledore sitting at the High Table in rainbow robes, sequins adorning every inch of it. 

Severus simply glared at her. She rolled on the balls of her feet and bit her lip. 

“Why are you not ready?” He asked in a low voice. It sent shivers down her spine. 

Ariel cocked her head in puzzlement. “It’s only nine. The train leaves at eleven, doesn’t it?” 

“That’s not what I asked you.” 

She flushed crimson. “I thought… nevermind.”

Her father glare felt like it was going to burn a hole in her forehead, right next to her lightning shaped scar. “Get  _ dressed,  _ and then come and me join in the kitchen. There are things we need to discuss before we leave.” 

Ariel gulped and nodded, and her father stalked away. She stood in the doorway for a moment before closing the door, noticing that her hands had begun to tremble. 

She dragged her herself into the kitchen a few minutes later, stomach lurching when she found a bowl of porridge waiting for her, along with a glass of milk. She made a face, wondering how in Merlin's name she was going to be able to keep anything down. All she needed was to be sick on the train to start off the year and make a brilliant first impression on her classmates.

Her father was already seated, drinking what he called breakfast for himself, which was usually two or three cups of black coffee.

Ariel reluctantly sat quietly, stirring the porridge and recalling the foul scent of her potion. She couldn't force herself to open her mouth, let alone raise the spoon to her lips, so she simply drank a sip of milk, nearly spitting it out in the process. Severus was watching her from the corner of his eye — she hated when he did that. Instead of trying to eat, Ariel began to bite her fingernails. 

" _ Stop it." _ Her father snapped at her immediately. "Eat your food, not your fingers."

Severus knew that Ariel was feeling anxious this morning. Truth be told, a part of her thought he was too — not that he'd ever let it be known, of course. She was an open book, and he was the greatest mystery known to wizarding kind sometimes, but for as far back as she could remember, there had always been Severus and Hogwarts and magic. Ariel trying to do something entertaining and making Severus furious wasn’t unusual. 

Severus let out an exasperated sigh and turned his attention back to his coffee. Ariel wondered what he’d say if she asked why  _ he  _ wasn’t eating. He’d probably break the mug. 

At the same time starting Hogwarts meant being Sorted, which was the part that caused Ariel’s hands to tremble as she tried to sip her milk that morning. She hated milk, the way she hated nighttime. It was gross, but her father made her drink it because it was  _ much  _ better than one of those horrid Nutrients potions. 

Severus peered back at her when she began threading her fingers through her hair, looking thoroughly exasperated. “What in Merlin’s name has gotten into you? You’re acting manic.” 

The Sorting was what was wrong. It terrified her. Her  _ real _ parents, James and Lily, had both been in Gryffindor. Severus was Head of Slytherin. Ariel had no idea what to do about this dilemma. She didn’t know if she  _ could  _ do anything about it, really. That was what the Sorting Hat was for. It told  _ you  _ where you were  _ supposed _ to be. 

Her father and McGonagall had bickered over the years over what house she'd be in, each determined to prove the other wrong. Ariel was positive they'd even bet galleons at this point. She wouldn't have been surprised if some of the other professors were in on it too. When she was younger, Ariel had loved the idea of being in her father's house, of making him proud, because a lot of the time, it was really hard to tell if Severus felt anything at all. He was… distant, like he was just visiting in this life and was really living another. He was strict —  cold, even, to her most of the time. Of course, Ariel figured that he must care for her deep down. She loved him a great deal, didn't she? Surely feelings like that were always returned. He'd always been more of a  _ show  _ rather than  _ tell  _ kind of person.

Ariel would love nothing more than to see her father try and hide  _ pride  _ as she jumped off the stool and took her place among his House, but at the same time, the very idea made her heart leap into her throat. It was common knowledge that Slytherins and Gryffindors were rivals, but obviously some took it more seriously than others. There had been countless times where her father had been summoned in order to regulate a dispute between two students from either house. Some of them had been so bad that they'd ended up in the hospital wing, one or two even expelled over the years.

She didn’t think that someone like her belonged in Slytherin… her and Severus were two very different people, and Severus  _ hated  _ Gryffindor. She’d always liked the Gryffindor students significantly more than the Slytherin ones, though. They’d always looked at her like she was a flobberworm. She’d asked Dumbledore about it once, and he’d alluded to the fact that it might of had something to do with Voldemort. 

Voldemort was like a passing breeze. It only really came to mind when she was reminded of it. Severus never discussed it — sometimes, when Dumbledore would come to their quarters late at night, he could hear them whispering about it, but Ariel had never been able to form the fragments she caught into sentences. Her father didn’t let her say the name out loud when he was around, which had always struck Ariel as odd. Severus didn’t seem like the type to be afraid of Voldemort… especially if he was raising  _ her.  _

Ariel didn't think much of it, hadn't thought herself capable of some great power that lay dormant with her. Some people seemed to think it though, had asked her even, like last week when Severus had taken her to Diagon Alley for her wand.

It had seemed like they'd had all summer ahead of them to plan for today, but then suddenly it had turned the first of September, just like that. They had received Ariel's textbooks by owl order, had Madame Malkin prepare her robes, and visited Ollivander’s to buy her wand, but somehow, the shop owner had recognized her father in disguise anyway. Ollivander said he’d remembered his wand — Severus hadn't believed it and had later blamed Dumbledore. That part didn't matter to Ariel, reall. All that had mattered was that  _ her  _ wand was eleven inches, holly wood with a phoenix feather at it's core.

" _ Curious…"  _ Ollivander had muttered to himself.

" _ What's curious?"  _ Her father had snapped impatiently, studying the wand in her hands as if it may explode any second. He hadn’t wanted to take her — he’d been afraid someone might spot them together even under Polyjuice. He’d been on edge the entire time. 

" _ There are only two other wands like that one in existence."  _ Ollivander smiled grimly,  _ "Two brothers, if you will. One, I still have, for it has not yet found it's master… but the other belonged to someone who you encountered many years ago, Miss Potter."  _ His cloudy eyes had landed on her scar and her father's hand grabbed her shoulder protectively.  _ "I think we must expect great things for you, and your brother, when his time comes, Ariel Potter."  _ Ollivander had said,  _ "For He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named did great things. Terrible, yes, but great things." _

Her father had dragged her out of there so fast, new wand in hand, that Ariel's head had nearly spun.

And therein lay the problem. Ariel wanted nothing more than to make her parents, James and Lily that was, proud. Professor McGonagall had told her countless stories of her father, of the times in class when he'd genuinely impressed her, which Ariel realized over the years, was a hard thing to do. He had been a Quidditch star, her mother Head Girl, both had fought against Voldemort in the war, and had died for her and Harry… 

Ariel hated Quidditch, and she’d never had friends before. She’d never done a brave thing in her life. All she had done was blow up a couple of cauldrons and make Severus angry. Sometimes, Ariel considered the fame that her and her brother’s name held, but she didn't think that counted. They’d only been babies.  

She didn’t dare tell her father that, though. Talking about Voldemort made him act weirder than usual. 

If she was put in Slytherin, Ariel would hate herself. In she was put in Gryffindor, her father would hate her. She couldn't please all three parents, and it was driving her mad.

She didn't notice her father watching her intently, eyebrow raised, "If you think you're going to get on that train without breakfast, you're sorely mistaken. I won't have you filling up with sweets before the Feast."

"I can't eat." Ariel pushed her plate away, making a face, "I'm too nervous."

"You're  _ nervous?"  _ Severus rolled his eyes, "Child, you've been talking my ear off about this day for years. There's nothing to fear. How many Sortings have you watched?"

"I just want to be put in the right place." She said softly, eyes plastered to the table. “What if I don’t belong anywhere?” 

There was a sigh, "And you, pray tell, wouldn't you be put in the right House? The Sorting Hat is rarely, if never wrong, Ariel."

Ariel was very quiet for a long moment. She  _ wanted  _ to tell him her fears, wanted the reassurance that her father wouldn't resent her if she was placed in Gryffindor. Hell, even Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw would be better, since he didn't hate those Houses as much he did Gryffindor, but Ariel didn't think she was suited for those. But how could she tell him that she wanted to make her  _ real  _ parents proud? Wasn't he just as much her father as James was? He’d raised her… cared for her… loved —

Well, that last part needed clarifying. Severus had never said he did. But he must. 

Why couldn't they have all been in the same House and made her life easier?

"What would you do if I got put in Gryffindor?" Ariel asked hesitantly, still refusing to meet his eyes.

He didn't answer at first. She peeked through the curtain of red she'd made for herself, watching his expression go blank before he exhaled loudly through his nose.

"Where is this coming from?" Severus drummed his fingers on the table, his face dense, "From what I recall, you have showed interest in Slytherin."

"It's… it's a possibility… me being in Gryffindor. Both my parents were… and Professor McGonagall has always said…”

"Do not heed anything that woman says." His face hardened, "It is nothing but her menopausal ramblings."

Ariel had no idea what menopausal meant. She thought to ask, but Severus seemed to be waiting for another objection, making her forget her completely unimportant question. 

"But what if I  _ am?  _ What if the Sorting Hat thinks Gryffindor is a better fit? Everyone always says I look like my mum… what if I'm more like her than just the way I look?" A tiny part of her wished that to be true more than anything, because if there was anything Ariel yearned for more, it was that she had known her mother, and if she was truly anything like her…

Ariel didn’t see the resemblance as much as everyone seemed to think, but she liked to believe it was true. Everyone said it, except for Severus of course, who never seemed to have much to say about her parents. She had her mum’s hair and face… everything else, she assumed was from her dad. 

Something indescribable flashed through Severus' eyes at her words, though Ariel didn't catch it quick enough to figure out what it was.

"Then you'll be in Gryffindor." He said plainly, though restrained. 

Her stomach did another flip-flop. The idea in his voice made him sound like he was trying not to be sick. 

Severus was all she’d known, really. Of course, there had been Dumbledore when she’d been younger, but for the most part, Severus and Ariel kept to themselves. She didn't mind, really, because her father could be two very different people depending on who was in the room. With her, he could be soft spoken and gentle and tame enough to let her fall asleep against him. And then there was Professor Snape, who made first years cry. 

Other times, Ariel wondered why he had adopted her at all. He hated kids — hated teaching and being a professor.  _ That  _ was something he had always made abundantly clear. When Ariel had been about four or five, Severus had sarcastically suggested that they sacrifice one of the students to ensure that Slytherin won the House Cup, and she'd cried all night until he'd forced out an apology. 

Even with his disdain for students aside, her father was… unreadable. Ariel didn't know what he was thinking almost all of the time, and so it made gaging his reactions to things a trial. And when he got angry… well, Ariel tried not to do that a lot. 

And he'd never said he loved her. He never said he cared, or just wanted her happy or what not. He looked at her sometimes like he wanted to break something. 

Something hard hit the table and she looked down, finding that he'd placed her wand in front of her Severus had hidden it as soon as they got it home, because if she was being honest with herself, she’d of used it before today without his permission. Now, seeing it placed in front of her at the table, Ariel was almost scared to touch it. For as long as Ariel could remember, getting a wand meant starting school. And now that the wand was ready, that meant school was, too.

"This wand," Severus cleared his throat, "is not a toy. It can be used as many things and will be with you for the rest of your life. It can heal, it can protect, and it can help. But it can also destroy."

Ariel gulped and nodded in agreement, not really knowing just where he was going with this.

"I want you to forget what Ollivander said to you in that shop." He continued, pursing his thin lips when Ariel's head shot up in surprise, "I understand the anxieties that today hold and the excitement, but know that wherever you go, whether it be Slytherin or Gryffindor," His nostrils flared slightly, "I am confident you are there for a reason. I'm also confident that you will use  _ this," _ His finger tapped the unused wand, "will do great things, whichever House it chooses to do work for."

Ariel fought against the lump in her throat and nodded. 

Severus waited for her to start eating before he spoke again. The porridge tasted bland, and a part of her wondered if he’d purposefully served her this because he knew how nervous she was. Stomaching something stronger definitely didn’t seem like something her body was capable of. Her father had poured himself a second cup of coffee in the meantime. Sometimes he read the Daily Prophet, but Ariel took notice that this morning’s copy was hanging out of the rubbish bin beside the sink. 

“We need to discuss your comings and goings.” Severus said once Ariel had finished about half her meal. 

She gulped.  _ He doesn’t want me coming to see him.  _

Her father face softened, though just bit. The lines in his face disappeared. Like he’d somehow read her mind, Severus grabbed her chin and forced her to look up at him. 

“You are welcome if you need me. You know that.” 

“Even if I’m in Gryffindor?” She shot back before she could think about it. 

He scowled, but gave her a knowing look.  _ “Especially _ then.” 

His words made her heart warm, even if it was a gibe at her possible House. 

_ “However,” _ Severus went on, and her stomach lurched, “you cannot be seeking me out every day. It will attract attention. 

Ariel had always thought she was a secret because Severus acted like he hated children, and Ariel was a child. As she’d gotten older, she’d slowly caught on that that idea probably wasn’t the case. He was meticulous when it came to making sure they weren’t seen together, even at Hogwarts. The only time he wasn’t on guard was when they were in their quarters at night. It had become clear that Severus wasn’t terrible to students because he was strict, like she had thought, but because he  _ genuinely  _ hated them. 

So that meant it had to just be her. 

“Why?” She asked in a small voice, trying to become part of the chair.  

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “You know why. We can’t be seen as anything that might… make people talk.” 

No, she hadn’t botched  _ that  _ yet. Ariel had done a variety of things that were key in Making Severus Mad, but letting on that she was anything more than a professor at the school she’d grown up in wasn’t one of them. She’d never real asked about it, because in all honesty, it hadn’t bothered her up until this point. She  _ liked  _ having Severus all to herself, with no one asking questions about him. He’d been the one part of Ariel’s life no one had questioned. Over the years, students had asked about what it was like to grow up at Hogwarts, her parents, Voldemort, her brother — 

“I don’t see why it still matters.” She muttered. “What difference does it make if people know you’re my dad or not?”

Severus frowned. “This isn’t open to negotiation, Ariel. It is a matter of your safety.” 

She wrinkled her nose at him. The more she thought about it now, the more she hated keeping Severus a secret. It wasn’t an issue when she’d been little, because her father had scarcely let her out of their quarters. It hadn’t been till she was six or seven that Ariel started attending Feasts in the Great Hall and the made her presence known. Ariel hadn’t known anything about Voldemort or her parent’s murders until a student had asked her, and she’d blinked back, bewildered. The night she’d asked Severus what they’d meant, he’d broken a bookshelf. 

The more she thought about it, the more Ariel was realizing how little she really knew. She didn’t know how to feel about it. Maybe  _ that  _ was why she felt like she didn’t belong in a House. 

“Ariel,” Severus gave her that  _ glare _ — the one she hated, because it wasn’t chastising. It was the glare that made her insides feel like they were being scrambled. “No one can know.”

“I want to  _ see you,  _ though.”

“You will, child.” He looked like he was trying not to roll his eyes — it made her feel stupid. “Being a student, however, means that you need to act as such. My quarters are open to you if you need me, but you must realize that things are not going to be the same.” 

Ariel clinked her spoon against the bowl and stared at her lap. She wondered if she was really being as ridiculous as she felt — if Severus was being reasonable and it was just her nerves talking — or if he was sick of her and her blowing up cauldrons because she wasn’t potion’s genius like him. 

Maybe it had to do with her mum. 

“I can’t eat anymore.” Ariel pushed the bowl away. 

Her father gave another annoyed sigh. “You barely touched it.” 

“I don’t want to force it.” Her stomach gave an agreeing moan. Severus still looked unconvinced. 

“Fine,” He waved her away as she hopped off the chair, “you will stay in your room until I call you, then. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about your little  _ experiment _ this morning.” 

Ariel nodded mutely, biting her lip as she walked back to her room. No, he wouldn’t forget about the exploding cauldrons, but somewhere deep down, Ariel wondered if he’d simply just forget about her in just a few hours time. 

* * *

An hour later, Severus was pacing in front of the fireplace, waiting for Ariel to get ready. He was treading a fine line between letting her prepare herself for the day ahead in her own time, and making sure she didn't take so long they'd be late.

He really didn't know what to make of her fears. Usually the girl was exactly the opposite — throwing caution freely to the wind and letting Severus fret over her wellbeing. Had he indirectly led her to believe that he'd resent her if she was Sorted into any other House than Slytherin? 

That was a fucking stupid question — she knew he hated Gryffindor. He’d never really been able to hide his distaste for them like he’d been able to hide other things. There was always going to be a part of him, the ugly side of him he reserved for his students and his colleagues when need be, that loathed everything and everyone in Gryffindor — save Lily, of course. Severus had spent the past nine years raising a child that he considered two things and two things only; a way to honor Lily’s sacrifice and  _ his.  _ Not James bloody Potter’s daughter, the golden king of Gryffindor himself. Ariel was anything but Potter. Of course, she had no idea that this was why he despised Gryffindor and wanted her in any House but. She wasn’t ready for that, yet. 

He just wanted her to… he supposed happy was the right word, but something about that terminology made his lip curl. Severus had learned that words weren’t very fitting anymore early on, when the nights had been far too short and the days too long and Ariel had been wild with the mania of toddlers. It was a ridiculous thing, he’d thought at first, to yearn for something he had never had, nor did he know how to grant. 

If Ariel  _ was  _ sorted into Gryffindor, there’d be a good chance she’d want to distance herself from the Slytherin Head of House. It was more for her sake than his, really. Severus had no intentions on trying to keep her to himself once school had started. He’d been given nine years of quiet bliss, and now, it was time for Ariel to decide what she wanted. 

Severus had considered what a child that was his would be like when Ariel was still small, still innocent and unknowing of most things. He’d wanted to preserve that for her, because it was all he could give her. Dumbledore had tried to gently suggest that Severus be the one to sit her down one day and tell her about the Dark Lord and Potter and Lily and Potter’s son, but he hadn’t found it in himself to do so. Severus had kicked himself when Ariel had found him one day and asked why the students looked at her funny, why they said she was one of the Children-Who-Lived, and why her parents were dead. 

He’d made Dumbledore have that conversation with her. Severus couldn’t shatter that for her, when he’d stolen Lily from her in the first place. 

A child that was his.

_ Coward,  _ Conscious had sneered.

He didn’t deserve her, really. 

And that was why he’d been preparing himself for today for months; the girl wasn’t going to end up in Slytherin. Severus had known it quite early on that Ariel had Lily’s incomprehensible heart — it was the only way he could justify her tolerating him. Severus had thought about it, had thought about her being swept away in House politics, in a House where enemies were already waiting for, and that incomprehensible heart would slowly fade into something hard and cold — 

Severus shook his head, the face that was obviously fighting back tears at breakfast filling his head. No. He couldn't let such thoughts cloud him now. He couldn't let the same mistake happen twice.

_ (He wanted to keep her to himself) _

He really fucking  _ loathed  _ the start of term.  __

After he collected his thoughts and stored them away, Severus walked down the hallway and knocked lightly on her open bedroom door.

"Ready?" He called inside. 

“No.” Her voice answered, sounding wobbly. 

Severus pinched the bridge of hise nose. Years and years of  _ Daddy when I’m a student — Daddy can I start early —  _ amounting to her having a nervous breakdown the day of. If Lily were here, she’d of known just what to say. And then she’d of  _ obliterated  _ him for letting their daughter’s anxieties eat her alive. 

He hated thoughts like that. It made him think for a second Lily had been his, and that he hadn’t killed her — the best thing he ever could have given her. 

Ariel lifted her head to look at him as he walked in, taking a deep breath to try and calm down. Severus crossed the room and sat next to her on the bed. She leaned against him, clinging to his arm like it was a lifeline.  

She was starting to scare him. This wasn’t Normal Ariel Behavior — he’d rather her blow up another cauldron than  _ this.  _

“You’re going to be late.” Severus said to the top of her head. “That is, unless you  _ want _ to incur McGonagall’s wrath and not arrive with the other first years, but something tells me you don’t want to be a spectacle.” 

“S’not like it’ll matter.” Ariel muttered into his arm. “People are gonna stare either way.” 

“Yes,” He agreed softly. “I suppose they are.” 

They settled into a little space of silence, then — tucked away in a neat corner of what they were leaving behind. And they  _ were  _ leaving something behind — Severus had realized that when Dumbledore had handed him Ariel’s papers — forms and such, and suddenly the realization that she wouldn’t constantly under his watch anymore was  _ very  _ real. She would grow up, and her brother would come along with that right of passage, and he would drift farther and farther away as she blossomed. 

That was what he hoped, anyway. 

_ (Dreaded)  _

“Will you hate me if I get Sorted into Gryffindor?” Ariel peeked up at him. Her eyes said  _ please don’t, I don’t try to be anything.  _

His eyebrows knitted themselves together. Was this what — 

Ah. 

So that was what this was about. His chest felt heavy all of a sudden, like he was being sucked underwater. 

“Ariel,” Severus sighed, “placing all of your weight in what I think is not what the point of today is. You shouldn’t be making yourself sick over what others reactions will be.”

_ “Your  _ reaction matters.” She said quietly. “I don’t care about anyone else…”

Lily had been like this the day of, too. Between Petunia’s scathing insults at the platform and being introduced,  _ fully,  _ to the wizarding world, she’d been jumpy the entire ride. She’d asked Severus repeatedly if they’d still be friends, even if they were in separate House, when that was all he’d wanted, more than anything — 

“I could never hate you.” He told her, “Even if that Sorting Hat shouted out that you were a Squib.”

Ariel cocked her head at him in disbelief, a smirk lifting up the corners of her mouth, but remained silent. She stood, staring at the spot on the wall where she kept the picture of Lily and her family. She’d taken it down, presumably to bring to her dormitory. The paint it had covered was brighter than the rest of the wall. 

"Did you mean it?" Ariel asked, her back still turned to him as she looked down at her packed trunk, "What you said before? About me being to do great things?"

"Of course I did." Severus said, and Conscious snickered. 

He was somewhat relieved to see a smile on her face as she turned around. His chest was burning and he didn’t know why. 

“When Mum got Sorted…” Ariel paused. “Were you disappointed you both weren’t in the same House? You stayed her friend though, right?”

That feeling of being underwater was overwhelming now — like she’d shoved his head beneath the surface herself. Ariel stared at him, tensed, like she was expecting him react. 

“We did.” Was all Severus could say. Something hidden behind his shields tapped away, like claws on a windowpane. 

Ariel smiled — and it was a true smile, not the nervous thing she’d been putting on all morning. 

He hated that was what she needed to hear almost as much as he hated her walking out the door to leave  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you’re wondering what the heck happened in between — or about Harry — it’ll be filled in as we go, I promise. Harry is closer than you think. Xx


	5. Sorting Priorities

The volume rose as Ariel and Severus stood on the platform a few minutes before eleven o'clock. Children yelling as they met their friends; mothers crying and fussing over their children. Her father, under Polyjuice, looked very out of place, even wearing a stranger’s face. He’d transformed into the Muggle who lived next door to them — Severus had even stolen his clothes.

“What a zoo.” Ariel supplied, trying to break their silence and inched closer to him. She was scanning the crowd, trying to look for a familiar face, which made her feel very stupid. She didn’t know anyone — hadn’t any friends waiting to see her… yet. Hopefully.

Her father kept a hand on her shoulder and gleamed through the crowd with his eyes. They were blue, right now, like sapphires, but still looked like they could cut through marble. Ariel could see Actual Severus moving behind them, like a body behind a curtain.

If she was being honest, Ariel was looking forward to the few carefree hours that were ahead of her on the train for her to contemplate her Sorting, and she was sure her father was eager to Floo straight back to his quarters at Hogwarts and make the most out of his last precious hours of freedom. He threw a bunch of particularly loud group Gryffindor fourth years a nasty snarl as they nearly ran into him.

There were already people staring at her. Ariel had even caught a couple of students pointing at her scar, heads bent low as curious eyes looked her over. She felt like she was on display, and hated it. She wanted to hide behind Severus, but he’d kill her if she started drawing attention to _him._

“You should go.” Ariel sighed, picking up her trunk. She looked longingly at a girl carrying a beautiful barn owl onto the train. She’d tried for one, but Severus had said no with such force that there had been no point in trying to argue.

“I’m not leaving until you’re on the train.” Her father said, his grip on her arm tightening. There was a line to board now. But he wasn’t watching the students — he was looking into the crowd.

She followed his gaze to a tall man dressed in robes that looked like they cost her entire tuition with long, pale blonde hair. There were two other blondes standing beside —  a woman and a young boy, all surrounding another boy with dark hair. He looked very out of place — like Severus.

“Who’re they?” Ariel tugged on the edge of his jumper.

“No one.” Her father said quickly, like he hadn’t meant for her to catch sight of them too. “Let’s see about getting you on the train.”

Ariel didn’t let go of his jumper as they walked — people were giving them confused looks now, and their wandering eyes went to Polyjuiced Severus instead. He reacted by prying her hand off of him and placing a fleeting hand on her shoulder instead in order to steer her in the right direction.

She grabbed onto his jumper as the words _Girl-Who-Lived_ floated around her, like they were circling her.

 _“Ariel.”_ Her father hissed and she jumped away, cheeks flushing crimson.

“Sorry,” She said, “I’m sorry.”

He gave her a look that was very diluted due to his disguise. The line to get on the train had thinned, and so he wordlessly motioned for her to step on.

Ariel took a deep breath, and hoisted herself up. Severus handed her the trunk, and gave her a nod. When she turned, just to get her bearings, and looked back, her father was gone.

He hadn't even said goodbye —

She was being stupid. He’d be her _professor_ come tomorrow, for Merlin’s sake. She waved at the empty space halfheartedly, took a deep, steadying breath and forged ahead and found an empty compartment, storing her bag overhead and taking a seat next to the window. She sighed and let her senses envelop her, trying hard to block out all the anxiety pressing against her windpipe. This was it. Although she had Floo'd to and from Hogwarts countless times, being on the train meant that she was finally going to as a student. It was weird, to be finally here, in this setting, one she’d tried to imagine for as far back as she could remember. It was the first time Ariel had really ever been on her own… she was all by herself, for once.

She wished her brother had been her twin, instead of year younger. Even though Ariel knew Hogwarts like the back of her hand, and what to expect, it would be much better if she had someone along for the ride with her.

A group of girls who looked about her age walked passed her compartment then — they were all laughing. They didn’t seem to notice her, but Ariel watched them almost hungrily, wanting to one of them. People had always whispered her name and stared, but no one had ever actually tried to be her friend.

Ariel tucked her knees under her chin and reached into her Muggle jeans.

Her fingers traced over the picture of her family she’d pocketed before her and Severus had left. She didn’t have any of her and Severus. He didn’t like being photographed.

“It’s pretty pathetic, really.” Ariel said to Photo-Dad and Photo-Mum, who cocked his head at her. “There’s a whole train full of other first years, and somehow I’m still sitting by myself.”

Photo-Mum gave a sympathetic smile as she shifted Photo-Harry on her hip. Photo-Dad gave a soundless guffaw.

The train began to move, then, a sea of teary-eyed faces and waving hands accompanying a chorus of _“goodbye”_ and _“I love you!”_ Parents looking for their children’s faces pressed up against the glass — younger siblings teary-eyed.

Ariel wished, more than anything else, to find her Mum and Dad’s faces in the crowd. She wished to see Harry — upset because he couldn’t go yet, or maybe just because he would miss her. But she wouldn’t, because her parents were dead, and Harry was somewhere else.

She let her head fall against the window and closed her eyes, her sleepless night suddenly the only thing on her mind.

* * *

Severus went straight to Dumbledore after he’d left the girl on the train.

“Lemon drop, Severus?” Dumbledore was asking as Severus sat down, not really wanting to sit.

He was restless. He was… he didn't think _nervous_ was nearly the right word — but it fit well enough. He fucking hated it — hated term and that he couldn't assure his own child in a way that wouldn't end up like a knife in his face later on. If Severus had it his way, he’d of homeschooled the girl, but he was still a spy, and the girl was still famous. They couldn’t slip through the cracks and disappear the way Severus wanted.

When Severus didn't respond to Dumbledore with his usual retort, he folded his hands in front of him and gave Severus an empathetic look. “I’m sure Ariel was be just fine, my boy.”

“I feel like I just left a kitten in a forest full of wolves.” He muttered.

Dumbledore chuckled. “Kitten isn’t quite the word I’d use.”

“People were already looking.” Severus rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I waited to make sure Lucius hadn't spotted her and got her on the train, but… she didn't seem ready.”

There was some strange emotion that filled him every time he heard her title spoken aloud. It has been everywhere at King’s Cross — in people’s eyes and faces and their voices as they crept closer to Ariel, trying to get a better look. It brought on some twisted semblance of pride in his chest, and then disgust, because no one had any right to know her, and then fear, because _he_ had given her this life, and didn't know how to fix it. Severus could only imagine what it would be like next year, when the boy arrived.

Which reminded him —

“And how is Lucius?” Dumbledore asked, looking up at Fawkes, who was preening his feathers. When he saw the both of them staring, he flew over and landed on the back of Severus’ chair and nuzzled his shoulder.

He visited them two or three times a year, when Narcissa wrote him that she was changing the wallpaper in the drawing room, or that the manor seemed unusually large for her tastes. Severus would go and see them, and sit through their talk of the outrageous people working at the Ministry nowadays, of the gossip among the Pureblood circles Severus had never given a single shit about, and the Girl-Who-Lived, and her tenure at Hogwarts. That was when Severus would excuse himself, and he would wish he still smoked, because it seemed that most visits necessitated a cigarette — or a strong poison — to get through them.

“The same, I think.” Severus said. “Narcissa is already lamenting over the fact that this will be her last year spent with her son.”

“Do you think Tom’s contacted them?”

Severus snorted. “If he has, they haven’t told me, though I doubt it. Lucius is… far too preened to be back in the Dark Lord’s services right now. Either way, I don’t think he’d reach out to them first.”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. “Who do you suppose, then? Yourself?”

He shook his head. “No… if he knows the girl is here, he may think that… that the resemblance to her mother is far too much of a temptation to keep her alive.”

“You think he doubts you that much?”

“I think he is paranoid.” Severus said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And controlled primarily by his all-consuming fear of death. That is why… if he is to return… I must move quickly.”

There was a long, pregnant pause, filled with the possibilities that would herold for them. For the girl on the train. For the boy in Surrey.

“Well,” Dumbledore said, waving Fawkes back to him, “let us be glad that that day is not yet upon us. After all, today is supposed to be… a milestone in your child’s life. I’m sure you’re grateful to be here to witness it firsthand.”

Severus sighed, letting his gaze wander to the window. The sky was so clear, it almost hurt to look at it. If Ariel was with him, she’d of begged for them to walk outside before the students came, and he had to set himself apart from her until nightfall.

“Ariel will find her way.” Dumbledore said, his mustache twitching. “She always has. You’ve raised her well.”

 _Not well enough,_ said Conscious, _if she thinks you’ll hate her in a few hours time._

* * *

Ariel's eyes shot open as she heard something metallic ping through the compartment door and bounce off the mirror that was hanging inches above her head. She rubbed at her eyes and sat up, looking around for what had disrupted her.

She pressed up against the seat as a metal ball whizzed past, inches away from taking off her nose. Just as it circled back and threatened taking out her _eye_ next, Ariel reached out and grabbed it, letting out a triumphant _“HA!”_ as her fist locked it in place.

A bang and a whistle later, the little ball was followed by two equally fast and bouncing redheaded boys. Ariel couldn’t even catch their faces at first — one immediately dived under the seat, whilst the other clambered up into the luggage rack.

"It's got to be in here somewhere, Gred — we saw it come through the compartment door!" The one under Ariel's feet shouted up to the other.

"Yes, Forge, but just because we saw it come in doesn't mean that we haven't missed it going out." Came the curt reply from above.

Ariel cleared her throat assertively.

They froze where they were.

“Um,” She asked, rolling her eyes as both boys realized the compartment already had an occupant.  "Can I help you?"

They righted themselves at once, standing awkwardly in front of her as she looked them up and down. Ariel opened her hand in front of her, and watched their eyes grow wide in admiration as she revealed their ball in the palm of her hand.

"I assume you are looking for this?" Ariel asked, giving a shy smile.

The boys had matching untidy clothes, matching unkempt hair, and right now, matching bewildered expressions. It was clear that they were twins.

"How'd you manage to catch that?" The first one asked, completely baffled.

"We thought we'd managed to bewitch it so it was uncatchable!" The other one explained, similarly agog.

“It nearly took off part of my face.” Ariel said, lifting up the ball to look at it, “What in Merlin’s name did you _do_ to it?”

“Spelled it uncatchable.” Said the first one. “Makes for a brilliant distraction right before a test. We’re planning on giving it a real test run during midterms. We gave a game of Exploding Snap an extra kick last year, and we didn’t have Charms for a week.”

“And you get away with that?” Ariel asked, her eyes widening.

The second shrugged. “Depends who the professor is. You can’t pull anything past some of them.”

“McGonagall _always_ knows.”

“So does ol’ Snape.”

Her stomach clenched at the mention of her father.

“And Filch is twitchy git —”

“Alright, Fred, don’t scare her. She’ll think they’re _all_ bad.”

“I know them already.” She said before she could stop herself. “Filch is horrid.”

Both of their eyebrows hit their heads, and then they broke into wide grins. Ariel want to hit herself in the face. She’d wanted to stay hidden — not introduce herself as one half of the Children-Who-Lived just yet.

“We heard that the Potter girl was on the train.” The first one said, looking pleased with himself, “Why’re you sitting all the way back here?”

She felt herself bristle at the fleeting title — the _Potter girl._ She had a _name._

“It’s Ariel, actually.” She said, crossing her arms, “And everywhere else was full.”

"He's Fred." The one on the right introduced himself.

"And he's George." The other responded in turn.

“It’s an honor, really —”

“We’ve heard all about you.”

“Do you have it?” Fred quirked an eyebrow, “The scar they talk about in the papers?”

Ariel grimaced, but reluctantly pulled aside her curls to show them the lightning bolt scar. It had never bothered her once in the nine years she’d had it, until people had started staring at it. Then it began to feel like a weight on her forehead.

It was the only thing that connected her to Harry. He had one just like her… at least that meant she knew _something_ definite about her brother, even if it was the scar that brought them back to the night their parents had died.

The twins eyes had widened. They then exchanged a grin that Ariel didn't understand and sat down in the seat directly across from her.

“Want to see how it works?” George asked, holding up the metal bar almost reverently.

Ariel blinked. “You… you want to show me your invention?”

“Well yeah,” Fred said. “A girl who can catch an uncatchable ball —”

“Is a girl worth knowing.” George finished.

The next few hours were spent with Ariel listening intently to the strategic design and artistry (at least, that's what Fred called it) in creating items that were prank-worthy. She’d nearly split her sides with laughter just as they were finally finished telling tales of their many pranks and ambushes against their younger brother, whose name was Ron, and their older brother, Percy.

The happy feeling faded when the train came to a halt.

"Firs' years this way!" Boomed a familiar voice as the train pulled into Hogsmeade station. Ariel leapt to her feet in eagerness to finally get off the train. It felt like her legs were full of pins and needles. Fred helped her down from the train while George handed her the trunk. Ariel craned her head above the crowd, though she needn’t look far — Hagrid was towering above all of them, waving his hand and holding a lantern up high.

"Are you coming?" Ariel gestured towards the growing mass of first years surrounding Hagrid to Fred and George.

"We're second years." Fred said, eyes flitting towards the gates.

"Oh," Her face fell, "Right. I'll see you later then, I guess?"

"We'll save you a seat at the Gryffindor table." George promised, nudging his brother, "Right, Fredd-o?"

"I give you my wizard's oath." Fred swore and placed a hand over his heart.

She smiled and waved just before her heart sank. They weren’t even in her _year._ She’d forgotten after they’d launched into their tales about pranks…

"Firs' years, over here!" Hagrid called again loudly, "C'mon, move along now!”

Fred and George saw Ariel's fallen expression just as she turned away, though she didn't notice as she dragged herself over to the others in her year.

 _Gryffindor…_ or Slytherin? Or neither?

After a short walk through the evening air, Hagrid and the first years soon found themselves at the edge of the lake, taking in their first view of Hogwarts across the glimmering water. There were gasps and sighs and whispers all around as they all clamored to get a better view. Waiting in the shallows for them were a fleet of small rowing boats, their oars enchanted to pull by themselves. There were four seats in each boat, just enough for the group anticipated.

Heading over to the boat nearest them, Ariel was surprised when she very nearly tripped and fell in, a familiar head of red hair held out his hand to help Ariel climb in safely.

"George!" She laughed at his amused smirk, "What're you doing?"

 _"Shhh!"_ Fred appeared at her other side, "I'm sure Hagrid won't mind much, but better keep us on the low just in-"

"What're you two doing here, eh?" Hagrid cut in from behind them as both twins froze, "You're supposed to be with the res' of the students!"

"Er… we got turned around." George tried as Ariel cupped a hand over her mouth to hold back laughter, "Got lost and decided we might as well come with you… since y'know… you know the grounds…"

"Besides, Ariel needs us!" The other protested, "She would have fallen and gotten soaked just now were it not for us, mind you!"

Hagrid waved them off with an eye roll and shrugged in defeat as the twins high fived in celebration.

Once she was inside the boat, Fred performed a gentlemanly bow, only to be knocked over by his brother, _("After you, Freddy first year…")_ falling into the water with a very ungracious splash. Sensing the threat of retaliation, Hagrid quickly intervened and helped a quiet young girl by herself into their boat, to occupy the fourth seat. George threw daggers at his brother once seated in the boat, but didn't dare Hex him with Hagrid still so close by.

“Hi, I’m George, and he’s Fred.” George said before the girl could even sit down, “And this is Ariel Potter — she has a thing for stealing from the older kids and dark wizards.”

She rolled her eyes and gave the girl, who looked unnerved by this, an apologetic smile.

Ariel seemed to be the only one in the boat aware that the girl was particularly quiet and seemingly the antithesis of the Weasley whirlwind. She almost felt bad — they _were_ a bit overwhelming.

"I'm Cho," She replied, politely, returning Ariel's smile and eyeing up the boys. Fred and George hadn’t even heard her — George was teetering dangerously on the rim of the boat and Fred looked even closer to pushing him.

Once the boats had moored on the shore, the first years assembled in the hallway of the castle, attention rapt in amazement at their surroundings. Professor McGonagall was patiently waiting for them to gather, surveying each and every one of them from her spot at the top of the staircase.

"Weasley's!" She called as soon as they approached, a look of pure exasperation passing over her face, "Despite what other professors argue, you both somehow managed to pass your first year here. I'm not even going to ask _why_ or _how,"_ She shot a look at Hagrid, who went red, "but I want your persons in the Great Hall by the end of my welcoming speech."

Both twins grinned and gave Ariel a final wave before scurrying off, the only indication that they had snuck in with the first years being the Great Hall doings opening and slamming shut in a humorous fashion.

"Good evening!" Professor McGonagall called, giving the group an approving look, "Welcome to Hogwarts. In a moment, you will follow me into the Great Hall where you will be Sorted into your Houses. They will act as your family during your stay here. The houses are Gryffindor, for which I am Head of House, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw; you will be Sorted based on your traits, your values, and your characteristics. You will meet your head of houses later tonight." She cleared her throat and glanced at Ariel, who gave a small smile. Professor McGonagall gave a curt nod in return.

"Wait here," She directed. "I shall ensure that the Headmaster is ready for you."

And with that she quickly turned and went into the Great Hall, closing the heavy doors behind her. The first years immediately began talking amongst themselves. Ariel shifted all her weight to one side and tried not to think about the ceremony. All of her anxiety had bubbled at the bottom of her throat, and she felt queasy.

Ariel looked around at the other students. The girls she’d seen walk past her compartment on the train were clustered together, heads together in a circle. She caught sight of two girls with sour expressions on their faces — they were very clearly twins, though they reminded her nothing of Fred and George. Most of the other first years seemed as nervous as Ariel did — one girl with dark hair gave her a hesitant smile when she caught her eye.

“Aren’t you Ariel Potter?” A voice said loudly, the hum of scattered chatter dying instantly, like an ember being stepped on.

Ariel turned, cringing. Everyone’s eyes were on her, now.

“You’re all anyone was talking about on the ride here.” Said one of the girls from the group. “Were you even on the train?”

“I saw her in one of the boats!” Another voice piped up — a boy with blond hair and posture that made it look like he was trying very hard to impress someone.

“I hear she grew up here!” Someone she couldn’t see piped up. “Why bother riding the train if she’s been here all this time?”

Ariel kept flushing hot and cold, like there was a faucet being turned left and right inside her. Her stomach felt like it had been catapulted outside her body. Her voice seemed to have left her too — trapped in the air between her fellow students and herself. They were all staring at her, expecting her to just have all the answers, but she couldn’t do anything — couldn’t say a word —

The doors swung open, and Professor McGonagall motioned for the students to follow her inside. Ariel quickly melted into the middle of the small crowd, hoping she'd go unnoticed and mastered her breathing. She almost wished they’d trample her and leave her outside the Great Hall — forgotten.

Now wasn’t the time to freak out. She still had to get through _sitting_ in front of everyone with the Hat on her head.

As she entered the Great Hall, Ariel found herself staring up at the ceiling and finding that it soothed her. She'd never get over how incredible it was. Tonight, the sky was clear, with thousands of brightly lit stars. Ariel gave a quick look at the staff table, looking for her father. He was in his usual spot, at the very end, looking rather bored and as though he would rather be elsewhere. Ariel felt a little relief; maybe the Sorting really didn't matter to him after all.

She glanced over to the table on the left, seeing familiar Slytherin faces peering back at her in suspicion. She turned and looked to the table on the right, watching the Gryffindors smiling and joking with each other, looking happy to be back at Hogwarts. She carried on walking ahead, thankful that no one seemed to be looking at her anymore — they were all enthralled in the moment, like Ariel was.

She jumped when the Hat began singing, patiently waited until it was done, and clapped quietly. Her stomach was really starting to hurt, the anxiety knotting up inside her. Professor McGonagall unrolled a large piece of parchment and cleared her throat.

"Bell, Katie!”

Katie, a smaller girl with thick, dirty blonde curls, walked quickly up to the chair and sat down. The Hat hadn't even touched her head before he yelled _"GRYFFINDOR!"_

The Gryffindor table roared, and Katie quickly sprinted to her new house to be greeted by her classmates.

"Coote, Ritchie!”

The next several names were a blur to Ariel, until the moment she'd been dreading finally arrived.

"Potter, Ariel!”

She felt like she'd swallowed a ton of rocks as she slowly approached the chair. Ariel could see Dumbledore sit up a little straighter, paying a little closer attention now than before. Before she turned to take the seat, she caught her father's eye, and saw him give her a nod. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and felt Professor McGonagall place the hat upon her head.

"Ah, now, where to put you?" The Hat mused, "Many fine traits here for Gryffindor, many indeed, but you'd flourish in Slytherin. Torn between parents it seems… so alike… but very different… hmmm, what to do..."

"Gryffindor?" Ariel heard herself whisper hopefully, unsure if it was even her speaking.

"Gryffindor? Not Slytherin, eh? Are you sure? You'd do great things in Slytherin, it's all here inside your head. Not to mention it's in your blood, part of who you are, whether you like it or not."

The hall was beginning to whisper now, the seconds trickling by agonizing. She could feel her palms sweating.

"Just put me where I belong." Ariel whispered again, echoing her father’s words from before.

"Well, if _that's_ what you meant… better be _GRYFFINDOR!"_

The Gryffindor table went absolutely ballistic, and McGonagall gave her a proud smirk. Ariel made her way over to the table on the right, not daring to look back at Severus. Several Gryffindors came over and patted Ariel on the back and welcomed her, cheering. The knot in her stomach was gone; she knew she'd made the right decision.

At the end of the ceremony, she finally drew up the courage to look over to her father.

He was staring right back at her, his face unreadable.

* * *

The feast passed without incident.

Dumbledore gave his usual baffling speech, and the volume rose steadily as the students caught up after their holidays. As Severus watched his daughter sitting at the Gryffindor table, it occurred to him that as much as he tried not to think of his daughter as Lily, he sometimes found it very hard not to. He’d felt a rush of fondness so strong that it felt more like a crushing blow to the chest when she’d nervously approached the Sorting Hat, remembering Lily looking exactly the same nearly twenty years ago.

It had shouted the same words, too, and Severus couldn’t find it in him to be disappointed. He’d felt a wave of fresh shame fall over him at her eyes pleading with him from across the hall.

Her eyes were beginning to gain their usual luster now — black as night, but always sparkling. And now, seeing her sat there at the Gryffindor table, laughing with her new friends and clearly enjoying their company, Severus was reliving his youth again. A girl he loved so deeply, torn from him by unspoken rules. This time, though, he wasn't going to pay any attention to them. This time, he was going to rise above the silly House politics and let her know that nothing had changed. He owed Lily that, now more than ever.

That didn't mean he wasn't annoyed beyond belief. And disappointed — Slytherin wasn’t what he’d initially wanted but he’d… fancied the idea. But he could mask that, because that was what Severus did better than anyone else.

Though it was admittedly getting harder and harder to do as he listened to Minerva bragging about how she had been right all these years. The fork in Severus' hand was soon bent, unusable, he realized as he slammed it down on the table.

"Oh, do lighten up, Severus." Flitwick chirped from his far left, hidden by several of the other professors, "She'll do wonderfully in Gryffindor."

"I always said she would." Minerva raised her goblet in his direction. He scowled in response, trying to retreat further into the darkness his place at the end of the table provided for him.

She was in Gryffindor because she was like Lily, if anything. That was that.

Ariel's eyes peered at him for the sixth time that night, dark eyes looking at him imploringly. It was at times like these when Severus thanked whatever powers that be that Ariel did not have her mother's eyes, because he didn't think he could take them looking at him in such the way.

He simply watched her as she laughed and talked with her new housemates in between nervous glances up at him. With an audible groaned, Severus realized that the majority of her dialogue was being exchanged with the Weasley twins. He would have to speak to her about staying away from them when they decided to release their reign of terror for the year.

The Feast soon came to a close, Prefects waving the first years towards meeting points around the hall as Severus prepared himself to welcome the new Slytherins. There had only been one he was interested in, for the majority of the brats he recognized from their surnames, but it was not the kind of interest he would found himself genuinely intrigued by. On the contrary, he was going to be keeping a very close on a certain boy, a boy who looked just like his mother, but to Severus' suspicion, nothing at all.

Bellatrix Lestrange's son should not look as cool and collected as he appeared to be when he sat under the Sorting hat. It was unnerving.

* * *

Ariel climbed the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, only half listening to the Prefect's speech, nearly missing the password. When McGonagall walked into the common room, however, she began to inch her way to the front in order to catch her before she retired for the evening.

It was warm and cozy, just as she imagined it, though maybe just a bit too much decorated and ornate, so very different from her father's quarters or Spinner's End. As she tuned out McGonagall's welcoming speech, she tried to imagine her mother sitting in one of the large couches slaving over an essay, or her father, walking in after a rough Quidditch practice. She tried to picture them here, walking these floors and letting themselves become a part of the history here.

The students began to scatter, bringing Ariel back to the present. She realized that they were being dismissed, and quickly sprang forward before McGonagall could leave. She’d overheard her telling her father one year that right after she gave the Welcoming Speech, she took a Sleeping Draught and tried to enjoy the remaining alone time before office hours and detentions began.

"Professor!" Ariel called as the students began climbing to their dormitories.

McGonagall had always been good to her — she was the closest link she had to her parents, save Severus, of course. She’d given her pictures and stories and shown her the glittering gold goblet in the Trophy Room with _James Potter_ engraved on it.

McGonagall turned at the sounds of her title, a tiny, knowing smirk appearing on her usually reserved face. "Well, Miss Potter. It seems you're already stirring up trouble. Harboring two fugitives, as I see it?"

She blinked, "Ma'am?"

"The Weasley twins." Her eyes darted to something behind Ariel, and when she turned, she found Fred and George standing by the farthest wall, sending a small wave to Professor McGonagall, who snorted in response.

"I think they saw how nervous I was and decided to help out." She grinned, "You shouldn't be mad at them. They were really brilliant."

"Hmmm." McGonagall made a face at them before turning her attention back to Ariel, "What is it you needed, Miss Potter? I assume you didn't stop me in order to defend students who will most likely be earning a detention before tomorrow afternoon."

" _Hey!"_ Both twins cried indignantly.

"I just wanted to know if it'd be alright if I go and see my father." She said quickly just as McGonagall began to reprimand the boys, "I was going to spend the night in his quarters."

"On your first night?" She raised an eyebrow, "Are you sure you wouldn't rather spend your first night trying to make friends? I'm sure your father can survive a night without you."

"I have something I have to talk to him about." Ariel said softly, so that Fred and George couldn't hear, "Please, Professor? I know curfew is soon, but…"

"Alright, alright, on with you then, Miss Potter." McGonagall swatted at her and Ariel grinned, bolting to the door just as her voice rose, "And _you two!_ If I _ever_ hear of interrupting another Sorting, _so help me,_ I will —”

Laughing under her breath, Ariel jogged through the early September air, a chill already hanging in the breeze. She shivered, slightly groaning, because if it was cold up here, the dungeons would probably be at least ten degrees colder.

She could hear the shuffling of feet as she made her way downwards, passing by the Slytherin common room door quickly and wondering if she had made the right decision. Ariel hadn't been expecting the Hat to actually take what she wanted into consideration, but now that she was Sorted, she was confident that her decision had been the right one. She felt comfortable among her new peers.

Now, Ariel needed to see if her father agreed. She knew he had meant what he'd said… but she hadn't been able to read his face during the feast. Granted, Severus didn't look _mad,_ which was a good sign. Usually if someone was Sorted in Gryffindor, he never clapped, he even _glared_ at the student who had suffered such a misfortune.

She heard the Slytherin's door creak open she as she passed, turning around to find a familiar boy watching her. She had noticed during the Sorting too, though she had simply ignored him, as her father's reaction and the chatter amongst the Gryffindor were at the top of her list of priorities.

The boy ducked back inside when they made eye contact. Ariel was momentarily confused, but simply shrugged it off and continued on to her father's quarters.

Severus was at his desk, seemingly filling out some kind of paperwork. He looked troubled when he first saw her enter, immediately standing, which made his robes billow about him.

"Is something wrong?" Obsidian eyes narrowed.

"No," Ariel shook her head, only making him appear even more suspicious, "I just wanted to see —”

"You should be with your House, Ariel." Her father said sternly, crossing his arms in emphasis.

She bit her lip and tried to ignore the impending feeling of abandonment, "I know it's only the first night… but I wanted to come down and make sure that everything was alright."

"Why wouldn't everything be alright?" Severus looked doubtful.

"I didn't mean in general." She toed the floor, "I meant… between us."

There was an exasperated sigh. "Sweet Merlin, child." He muttered, "You're making this so much more difficult."

" _I'm_ not the one who has a hatred of everything Gryffindor!" Ariel snapped, automatically throwing her hands over her mouth when she realized that she'd just blurted those words out loud.

She could tell it was taking a great deal of self control for him not to yell at her for that.

"I do… it's not…" Her father struggled with his words, leaning against his desk and allowing his black hair to curtain his face, "I could never hate you for simply being _yourself,_ Ariel. Or do you think me heartless?"

"Of course not. But you _have_ made it clear in the past that you don't like Gryffindors. And now that I'm one…"

"That doesn't change who you are to me."

It was strange how the simplest of words could make her feel so reassured, "Promise?"

Severus rolled his eyes, "Would you like me to give you my wizard's oath?"

"As a matter of fact, I would."

He glared and Ariel grinned, bounding over to him to embrace him quickly before disappearing into her room. She felt good. She could feel her anxieties practically melting off her shoulders.

 _She was finally a student at Hogwarts._ She felt like screaming it to the ceiling on the dungeons.

"Ariel," Her father called, annoyed, from the doorway, "your things aren't here. They're up in Gryffindor Tower. We discussed that as a student, you're going to have to abide by the same rules as the others. You can't be spending every single night here."

"Not every student has their father as a professor." She called cheekily, fumbling through her drawers to find the nightgown she'd purposefully left her, just in case.

" _Ariel."_ He repeated, sending a knowing look her way.

"It's almost curfew." Ariel pointed out, "So unless you'd like to give me detention my first day…"

"Do you not _want_ to sleep there? I understand it may be intimidating, sleeping in a new environment, but you have to learn to adjust."

"No," She shook her head, "I would go back, but it's later than I expected. I didn't want to start tomorrow without talking to you first."

"Are you lying?"

" _Dad."_ She gave him a look and disappeared into the bathroom.

"Insufferable brat." Ariel heard him growl to himself, "Will I ever get a moment to myself again?"

When she crawled into bed five minutes later, her father was standing in the doorway. He looked less angry, though she could tell it was the kind of anger that wasn't necessarily directed at _her._ Severus knew how to make it known when he was truly furious with Ariel, and when he did, she tried to get as far away as humanly possible in order to avoid the initial quakes.

"So you promise you don't hate me?" Ariel asked again, watching his face extra carefully.

"If I hated you, you wouldn't be sleeping here tonight." Severus said dryly, "You are truly the only exception. Consider it a great honor."

"You can't hate _every single_ Gryffindor. There has to be at least one, besides me, that you _kind of_ like."

"There's none." Was his flat reply, "Trust me.”

“What about Mum?”

Severus’ face went paler than it already was, and for the first time Ariel could recall, he seemed to be struggling for words.

“Yes,” He finally said, like he was choking on a mouthful of sand, “I suppose you’re right about that, then.”

“What was she like?” Ariel’s dark eyes glimmered with curiosity.

Severus exhaled loudly. It wasn’t time to have this conversation, and it probably never would be, Ariel thought with a sigh. “It’s late. You don’t want to be tired for your classes tomorrow. Get to sleep.”

A look of slight disappointment rippled through Ariel’s features as she reluctantly pulled up the covers and blew out the flickering candle beside her.

Ariel watched as her father made his way out of her room, glancing back at her once before closing the door.

She reached for the nightstand, and pulled the picture to her chest.

* * *

He knew she’d be talking to them — she always did before the start of term.

Severus leaned his head against the wall, looking through the small opening that let him see into her room. Dumbledore had told him that it was good for her, that he shouldn’t be worried that she talked to them instead of him about certain things. In a way, Severus was almost grateful.

“I wish Harry and I could start at the same time.” She was saying. “I asked Dad if I could maybe wait another year… but he said no.”

He inched closer, desperate to hear what she would say next. He’d ignored her nightly ritual when she’d been little, after Dumbledore had given her the photograph, but now, she was older, and her words mattered.

“I hope we’re in the same House, when he comes.” She sounded hopeful. “I don’t think it’d matter where I ended up if Harry was with me.”

The boy. It was always about the boy — she clung to him like a lifeline.

“I’m happy with Gryffindor, though.” She went on, quieter now. “Dad hates it. I can tell.”

Severus saw his hand reached for the doorknob.

“I think we’ll be okay, though.” Ariel said in an even smaller voice. “We’ve got to be, right?”

He stopped himself — his eyes closed and he took a deep, steadying breath.

She would be okay. Severus would make sure of it.

Soon, he would see to the boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Reviews are lovely and amazing and make our day Xx


	6. The Strange Lestrange

It was the second night of term when the dreams started.

Every night they were different, but simultaneously the same. Flashes of white, a hint of green in there somewhere, a splash of black, and then Ariel would awaken, panting and trembling. Her nightgown would cling to her skin from how much she was sweating, forcing her to flee to her bathroom and try to calm herself down.

She didn’t tell her father, because once he was worried about something, he never really stopped, and the last thing she needed right now was him on her case over weird nightmares. Besides, Ariel had more important things to worry about, the biggest hurdle being her lack of friends.

Fred and George, of course, talked to her and spent any free time apart from their pranking that they could with her, but she didn’t have anyone else. There was nobody that she really felt like she connected with in any of her classes. She was polite enough to her dorm mates, and tried to start conversations with new faces at mealtimes, but she was struggling to find anyone that she could really get on with. Cho Chang had been friendly on the boat, but she’d been sorted into Ravenclaw and had been head to head with a group of girls, one of them she knew to be Marietta Edgecombe, a quiet girl with reddish-blonde hair that seemed nice enough, but none of the girls had really made an effort to include her.

There was Katie Bell, another Gryffindor her age who had spoken to her on several occasions, but it had mostly been about Quidditch. Of course, first years couldn’t try out, but the girl talked about it as if she was already on the team, and quite frankly, Ariel couldn’t give a damn about the game. She loved the thrill of watching as much as anyone, but she could never quite understand just what made people go absolutely mad with joy or rage over it. Actually, _most_ of the Gryffindors seemed to be Quidditch-crazy and the realization that Ariel may have to pretend to be the same in order to save herself from being all alone for the next seven years made her sleepless nights only worse.

Then there was Cormac McLaggen, who was the only other student to have approached her on the third day of term — but he made her skin crawl.

With all these doubts whirling around in her mind, not to mention the lack of friendly contact with her father, Ariel almost began to wish she had just let the bloody hat put her in Slytherin. She hadn’t even had Potions yet, and though she was almost afraid to see her father in Full Professor Mode, _any_ contact with someone who liked her would be enough. Most of the kids, besides Fred and George and the Gryffindors that had bothered to try and talk to her, almost seemed _frightened_ of her.

That was, of course, except for the boy who kept staring at her.

She’d noticed him at the Welcoming Feast between her nervous glances up at Severus. He’d been sitting by himself, scrutinizing her, as though he were expecting her to get up and walk over to him. Ariel had caught him watching her when they’d been dismissed, and every meal since they’d arrived. But the strange boy had soon been forgotten through the weekend, where she’d spent most of her time attempting to make friends and strike up conversations in Gryffindor Tower to no avail. When Fred and George finally went missing, (they’d told her they had a very important prank to initiate), Ariel gave up and headed down to Severus’ quarters, where she holed up in her room with a couple of library books. Classes had finally forced her out when the weekend came to a close, which was probably for the best, since she was quickly running out of new things to read. After her first Charms and Transfiguration classes, (McGonagall had looked upon her smugly since the Sorting, though she said nothing to her father about it, for fear he may set fire to the Tower) Ariel headed to the library, where the strange watching boy caught her eye once again.

He was maybe a head taller than her, lean and pale with thick, black hair and ice blue eyes that stood out against his dark figure. He looked almost a year or two older than she, and for a moment, Ariel forgot that he was only a first year, just like her. He had an air about him of one that seemed older than his years.

But she wasn’t intimidated. On the contrary, Ariel simply stared back at him steadily, keeping his gaze, watching intriguingly as something flickered through those blue eyes of his. She’d seen that look before, she recalled, flashing through some very familiar black eyes not so long ago. And then he did something he hadn’t done the other times she’d caught him staring—he stood up and walked over to her.

He stopped, less than a foot away from her.

Ariel’s eyes momentarily widened in surprise, wondering if this strange boy really _did_ have something he wanted to say to her—or worse, he had a _problem_ with her—but as he carried on and slid into the seat across from her, there was nothing but an amused smirk on his face, those cobalt eyes dancing.

_Crack!_

A potion’s textbook hit the table, earning them a both a look from a nearby table of Ravenclaws. Ariel closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Why was he bothering _her_?

 _“_ Can I help you?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at this mysterious boy that probably just made her the topic of conversation over at the other tables.

“You keep staring at me.” The Slytherin boy mirrored her expression, making her own falter, “I’d like to know _why.”_

Ariel blinked, _“I_ keep staring at _you?_ Every time I look up, _you’re_ analyzing me like I’m some test tube specimen!”

“Is that a potions thing?” He looked genuinely confused.

Her teeth set together in agitation. She took a deep breath, eyeing him from under her eyebrows. “Who _are_ you?”

“I should be asking you the same thing… but _I_ already know the answer to that question. Do you always assume everyone knows who you are?”

Ariel felt like she was talking to a snarky Dumbledore, albeit one that appeared somewhat more aware of his dress sense. “I _assume_ you know who I am since you’ve been _staring_ at me since the Sorting!” She snapped, rather abruptly.

He went silent for a moment, inspecting his fingernails before turning his blasé gaze back towards her, “You know, I thought I had the wrong person at first. Your hair covers that scar a little too well.”

Her fingers brushed over it almost absentmindedly, stopping when he noticed her looking at it with a knowing smirk. “What the hell are you playing at? Were your parents Death Eaters or something?” Ariel questioned him directly.

The smirk disappeared and the boy almost appeared to shrink back in his seat, “You really don’t know who I am, do you? Snape hasn’t said a thing?”

“Why would he?” Ariel snapped, “What’s so special about _you?_ And why does who _I_ am have anything to do with it?”

“Questions, questions.” He drummed the tabletop thoughtfully before leaning across the table, extending a hand that very nearly hit her in the face, “The name’s Damon, formerly Lestrange, now Malfoy.”

She blinked, not taking his hand, “Is that supposed to mean something?”

“Your _father’s_ never mentioned the _Lestrange_ family?” He sounded shocked, but it was so forced it was almost sarcastic.

She felt a retort on the tip of her tongue and then —

All of the blood drained from her face.

 _What?_ He couldn’t know… oh gods oh no no _no —_

“My _father?_ ” Ariel said, feeling like she’d just taken a Stunner to the chest. “I’m sorry, but my parents died when I was two, so my _dad_ kind of _couldn’t_ have mentioned your family.”

The boy gave a knowing smirk, “I’m talking about Snape.”

_How the heck —_

This wasn’t good. What had she said to — had she let something slip?

Severus was going to kill her.

“How do you know?” Ariel demanded.

“Know?” There was something about the boy’s manner that made Ariel think he knew _exactly_ what he was talking about.

“About Snape adopting me?” Her voice had become hushed, losing the sardonic tone it once had. This Damon kid was beginning to know more about her than she knew about _herself._

“Doesn’t everybody?” Damon tried to cover up his smirk by feigning confusion, but Ariel could see right through him.

“No.” She was beginning to get a feeling that he knew something nobody else did, and her suspicion in her tone grew stronger. “How do _you_ know?”

“That,” Damon’s knowing grin returned, “comes back to my family. They know your father. And I just happen to be very good at eavesdropping.”

Ariel felt her blood heat up in her veins as she gritted her teeth. “I’m sure you are.” She let out a sigh. “And _who_ _are_ they, exactly?”

“He’s really never told you?”

“No,” Ariel slammed her textbook shut, “he hasn’t. Now, unless you’re going to explain why the bloody hell you’ve been staring at me like I’m some damn _spectacle —”_

“But you _are_ a spectacle,” Damon sounded almost teasing, but Ariel was getting so agitated that it only made her face burn, “you’re the Chosen One!”

“I am _not!”_

“Or at least, _one_ of _the_ Chosen Ones, raised by potions master Severus Snape, seemingly ignorant of the events that unfolded in the wizarding world around her all those years ago —”

“For the love of Merlin _…”_ She rubbed her face with her hand, praying her father would walk in and scare him away or something.

“ — who has yet to tell her new friend —”

_“Excuse me?”_

“ — of her brother, who has also seemingly vanished from our world…”

“Let me get some things straight with you, _Lestrange.”_ Ariel snarled, “First of all, _I —”_

“Ah ah,” Damon held up a chastising finger and wagged it side to side, “it’s _Malfoy_ now.”

“It’s about to be _nothing_ when I Stun you across the bloody library!”

“You’re not going to Stun me, Potter.” Damon rolled his eyes.

“Oh yeah?” Ariel raised an eyebrow, “And why not?”

“Because golden girls don’t Stun poor, defenseless, fellow first years.” The look on his face nearly made her lunge.

“Don’t you dare _call_ me that!” She snarled, echoing a dangerous tone usually only heard from her father.

He rested his head on his hand as though bored, and waved her on, “I believe you had a list of threats you wanted to get out of the way before I presented my proposition. You better finish them before you implode.”

For a moment, Ariel was speechless, having absolutely no idea how to respond to this bizarre boy. Of course she knew Slytherins could be cunning, usually holding the upper hand in a conversation when they wanted something. Merlin knew, she’d seen her father do it through the years with the other professors, even McGonagall. But this Lestrange boy made her want to rip her hair out in giant clumps in frustration.

She did the next best thing. She got up and began gathering her things.

“Where are you going?” Damon sounded genuinely surprised.

“I’d like to continue going to school here,” Ariel threw her book into her bag with more force than necessary, “and I wouldn’t be able to do that if I use an Unforgivable on you.”

“Which one do you have in mind?” He asked, sounding like he was discussing the weather.

“Well, if I use the Imperius, I could simply make you sure you never bother anyone again, but I’m sure that will look rather suspicious. The Cruciatus would draw too much attention, so it seems that the Killing Curse…” She froze, finding that the entire table full of Ravenclaws was staring at her in utter horror. Damon looked far more amused than he should have been.

Ariel glared at the Lestrange-Malfoy boy with such fury that it rivaled one of Severus’ very worst. He smirked back at her.

He cocked his head, a look of curiosity dancing across his face, “Are you sure Snape’s not your biological father? You kind of look like him when you do that.”

She turned on her heel to leave, muttering obscenities under his breath, when she felt one of her books slip out from under her arm. Whirling around to catch it before it fell, her bewilderment only heightened when no _thump_ of the book hitting the floor reached her ears, nor was there any book to be found beneath her. Instead, the Lestrange boy’s laughed reverberated against her eardrums, where she followed his stare to the ceiling, where her Defense textbook was floating mid-air.

She was going to kill this boy. Maybe not today or anytime soon, but she knew it was inevitable.

“Damon,” Ariel said in a very controlled voice, “please give me my textbook back. _Now.”_

He raised an eyebrow, “We’re on a first name basis now, are we?”

“What… do… you… _want with me?”_ Ariel asked slowly.

“Sit back down,” Damon gestured to the seat, “and I’ll get around to it.”

She shoved the chair back, growling under her breath as she sat down and crossed her arms. It was as if this Malfoy kid was the parent and Ariel was the child being disciplined.

“You seem tense.” He frowned.

“You seem to be making a lot of assumptions about me!” Ariel snapped.

“Not assumptions, just observations.”

“Observations about _me,_ my _brother,_ my _father-”_

“You refer to him as your father?”

“No, I call him Beedle the Bard.” She retaliated, words dripping with sarcasm.

His lips twitched in what was almost a smile, “I’m serious.”

“Why do you _care?”_

“I find you interesting.” Damon drummed the tabletop with his fingers again. “Your whole story, with what happened to You-Know-Who when he tried to kill you and your brother. It’s fascinating.”

“Read a Rita Skeeter column then.” Her eyes darted to the door, determined to somehow make an escape. But she couldn’t just leave her textbook…

“I think the real deal is better, don’t you?”

“If you’re messing with me because you want to know what happened that night, you’re out of luck. I remember nothing, because unlike some people might like to believe, I was a normal two-year-old, who, like you, has absolutely no idea of what happened. Can I have my textbook back now?”

“Not yet.” With a flick of his wrist, the book floated higher, nearly touching the ceiling itself, “You said you’ve never heard of the Lestranges… then what about the Malfoys?”

She almost admitted that the name sounded a bit familiar, but bit her tongue, “No. What are _you,_ then? Some big wig Pureblood?”

He snorted, “So my uncle would like to think.”

“And who’s your uncle?’

“Lucius Malfoy.” He said the name slowly, watching her expression carefully. It rang distant bells, but Ariel didn’t care enough to reach and figure it out for herself. Or at least, not right now.

“Nothing.” She almost smiled when his frown deepened, “Now, let me just get this straight. You’ve been staring at me like some bloody creep, interrupted me studying, and taken my textbook captive because you wanted to know if I know about your _family?_ Is it because I’m the Girl-Who-Lived and you wanted to make sure I know there’s people out there who hate me for what I supposedly did, or is your ego _so large-”_

“I’m not trying to threaten you.” His eyebrows furrowed, as though deep in thought, “I… I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Expecting _what?”_

“You… you really don’t know? I mean, Snape’s never mentioned who the notorious Death Eaters were… or anything about what happened that night?”

“Why _would_ he? He wasn’t involved with all that… and unless he’s lying to me and he was there-”

“It just seems irresponsible-”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Ariel said loudly, “You don’t know _anything_ about me!”

“I didn’t-”

“Would you like to talk about my dead parents next?” She jumped up, hands hitting the tabletop with a _smack,_ and leaned towards him, trembling.

He immediately sobered up, the airborne textbook falling down into his hand. The table of Ravenclaws had gone deathly quiet. “I didn’t mean it like that.” Damon said softly, his eyebrows furrowing in an expression Ariel couldn’t tell was genuine or not, “I was just-”

“Just —  just leave me alone.” She grabbed the book from him, turning on her heel so fast that it almost made her dizzy, and fled down to the dungeons.

A million thoughts flew through her head at once, the first and foremost being, _“how dare he.”_ Who the hell did this Damon Malfoy-Lestrange-whatever-the-bloody-hell-his-last-name-was think he was? Who was he to bring up how she referred to or thought of her father, the man who had _raised_ her, after all. He acted as if considering him to be her father was some foreign, alien concept. What was it to him anyway? This Damon kid didn’t know anything about her past or the man Severus was when he wasn’t the disciplinarian. Her father was a good man… a good person, deep down, when he wasn’t busy scaring the living daylights out of students or docking house points for ridiculous reasons. Ariel had never thought to question such things, as they’d become her norm, all she had known for as long as she could remember. She knew he had to appear strict in Potions, as the ingredients they used could be dangerous if combined incorrectly. Severus had cared for her all these years, protected her, loved her…

Well, maybe that last part needed clarifying. Ariel couldn’t ever remember an occurrence when he’d actually _said_ that he loved her. But love could surely be shown through actions, couldn’t it? And besides, Severus wasn’t one to vocalize his feelings anyway. She didn’t need him to tell her what she already knew… or did she?

As for her and her brother - her faceless, stranger of a brother’s, _chosen one_ status, Ariel had rarely put much thought into it. Professor Dumbledore had been the leader of the side rising a front against Voldemort the first time around. When she’d asked him why Voldemort had come to kill her family that night, he’d simply responded with, _“Sometimes, my dear, there are forces and influences greater than we can ever comprehend at work.”_

Well, whatever _that_ had meant, her father had never put more behind it. Severus turned the color of sour milk when she asked about Voldemort, saying that he had been nothing more than a raving lunatic.

 _“Then if he’s gone,”_ Ariel would look at her father longingly, _“Why can’t I go and see Harry?”_

 _“Because the Headmaster believes it safest for the both of you at this time.”_ Would be his short reply. There was rarely a long one these days.

_“But there haven’t been any Death Eaters for years! The Ministry’s got them all, haven’t they? And Voldemort’s gone…”_

_“How many times must I tell you not to say that name?”_ Severus would snap, his arm twitching as though the name provoked a physical response from him. The conversation usually ended there.

Ariel didn’t even know what Harry _looked_ like, if he had indeed inherited their father’s messy, untamable hair, if his eyes had stayed the same green their mother’s were. Was he tall for his age, like their Dad, or on the shorter side? Ariel had no clue. She didn’t know what Harry liked, if he loved Quidditch as much as the rest of the wizarding world seemed to, if he was good at Potions like she was, or maybe Charms like their mother.

Did he want to meet Ariel as badly as she wanted to meet him? Did he miss their parents as much as she did? Did he remember anything of that night or before, remember Ariel and their parents and the happy life they had once had together? She had several photo albums she would go through at night, memorizing each photo and waving back at the happy faces that beamed up at her. Sometimes she’d catch her father watching, something fathomless in those black eyes of his, turning away when he caught her watching him.

It was then that Ariel realized she knew amount as much about Harry Potter as the rest of the wizarding world did.

Ariel stopped outside her father’s door, wiping her eyes at the tears threatening to leak over. She couldn’t let some cocky first year asking hard questions get to her, at least, not this early into term.

But that still begged the question of who this Damon Lestrange boy was, and why he was so interested in her and her past.

And her father.

(But she wasn’t going to tell him any of that until she got to the bottom of this herself)

* * *

Severus could tell as soon as the girl rushed into the room that something was wrong. Her face was set in a scowl, her hands clutching one of her books as though hanging onto it for dear life. Her eyes were watering, though Severus almost didn’t see as the girl practically flew past his desk and disappeared into her bedroom with a _BANG_ of the door.

Severus winced at the sound, a frown appearing upon his own face as he stared at the closed door. It didn’t take much to set Ariel off, but usually it was _him_ who provoked her if anything. Unless, of course when she was younger, she’d been unfortunate enough to stumble across Filch or Trelawney. There had been one encounter in particular with the googly-eyed fraud that had made Severus so angry he’d spiked her tea the next morning.

Which made him all the more intrigued as to who he’d be poisoning, if someone had indeed intentionally — or unintentionally, Severus really didn’t have a preference — upset his daughter.

He rapped the door thrice upon entering, finding the girl huddled on her bed against the wall, knees drawn to her chest and openly crying.

He was going to murder someone. He could feel it.

“What happened?” Severus tried to come across gentle, but it came out as anything but.

Ariel didn’t answer at first, her gaze pinned on something on the opposite wall. When she didn’t respond, he followed her stare, finding that she was studying a picture of Lily’s life before Severus had destroyed it.

“Have you ever missed someone you’ve never met?” Ariel finally asked, steadying her breathing and breaking off Severus’ train of thought.

He knew she was talking about Potter without even asking.

He sighed internally, already knowing the direction this conversation was headed, “We’ve gone over this Ariel. You can’t keep —”

“It’s not right.” She whispered, “I shouldn’t have to meet him when the rest of our world does. I’m his _sister.”_

“You’re a _child.”_ Severus crossed his arms, “A child, who, when first placed into my care, was separated from her brother as a precaution.”

“But there’s no more danger!”

“There will _always_ be danger, Ariel.”

“Then why do you insist on keeping me in the dark?”

“Excuse me?” His felt his eyes narrow, “Pertaining to _what,_ exactly?”

She seemed to contemplate his question before asking one of her own.

“Who’re the Lestranges?”

Severus felt his entire body stiffen at the name, his thought automatically going to the boy that had looked so much like his mother, but at the same time, not at all.

“No one, at least, not anymore.” Severus averted his eyes, “Why? Did a boy —”

“Then who _were_ they?” Ariel interrupted. “And how do you know about Damon?”

Severus clenched his jaw and stepped further into the room, “He spoke to you, did he?”

“Is that a problem?”

“I don’t want you anywhere near him.” He could feel his insides twist at the idea of what Bellatrix’s spawn must have thought he first saw his daughter. His mother had known no limits, but she had of course, for lack of a better term, been _hindered_ on certain things, for female anatomy differed from male. Her _son_ however… Severus could only imagine the problems the little cretin would cause in years to come, and he wanted Ariel as far out his way as possible when he blossomed into the little monster his mother had dreamed he’d grow up to be.

“Okay, first of all,” She held up her hands in objection, “ _he_ came to _me._ I had no idea who he was, but he just came over and started asking me all these questions that made absolutely no sense —”

“Questions?” The brat was starting early, it seemed.

“Just about if I remember anything… about the night that… that…” Her voice faltered and the lights in the room seemed to intensify. “He just started asking about Harry.” Ariel continued quietly, refusing to look at Severus, “And I realized that when I finally get to meet him… when he starts school… I’ll know him on the same level everyone else does. He’ll be a stranger and it doesn’t seem right. He’s the only family I’ve got…”

Was that supposed to be a _bad_ thing? The further the other Potter brat was from the child he’d raised for himself… well, the better. But Severus supposed he could see where all this longing and begging stemmed from. He’d been confused as to how Albus could even fathom separating two orphaned children, being the kind, loving, gentle old Headmaster the wizarding world adored (at least, the majority of it did). It certainly wasn’t _Severus’_ place to question that. And if Ariel had been sent to Petunia’s with her brother, Severus would have spent the last nine years isolated and alone, wallowing in the guilt he’d hidden so far within the deepest recesses of his heart.

Something sank deep within his chest at the remark of the Potter brat being her only family, reminding him of why he had replaced his heart with a steel trap, and why he would show no pity with her when it came to the boy.

“You still didn’t answer my question.” She said, not letting it slide, “Who were they, the Lestranges? And the Malfoys?”

Severus sighed, seating himself at the edge of the bed and wondering how in Merlin’s name he could explain people like Bellatrix Lestrange to an eleven-year-old. He’d already had enough trouble with the Dark Lord. He hadn’t been able to get to the part about her parent’s murder before he’d excused himself under the pretext that he’d had a potion brewing.

“I want to make one thing abundantly clear to you first, young lady,” He said as Ariel crawled over to him, leaning her head into his chest, “You are to _stay away_ from that boy. If he approaches you, you ignore him and leave at once. And if he continues to harass you, you come to me, and I’ll see to it. Is that understood?”

She nodded into his chest.

Severus took a deep breath and laid a hand upon Ariel’s head, absentmindedly stroking her forehead with the pad of his thumb, “Have you ever heard the name Longbottom before?”

“No.” Ariel shook her head and moved to look up at him, “What do they have to do with —”

“I’m getting to them.” He interrupted, cutting off her question before she had finished. He stared ahead, running a thin hand through her hair and trying to avoid the picture of the original Potter family with his eyes, “They have a son a year younger than you. He’ll be starting next year, I believe.”

“With Harry?”

“Yes.” Severus tried to keep the irritation out his voice, “If I remember correctly, his name is Neville. His parents, Frank and Alice, were two Purebloods, brilliant Aurors that fought against the Dark Lord during the war. They were tortured into insanity and are currently in a restricted sector of St. Mungo’s.”

“That’s terrible.” Ariel whispered into his robes after a long pause, “Did you know them?”

“I did, though not well.”

“Were they in that secret club the Headmaster was in charge of?”

“Yes, they were. It was called the Order of the Phoenix.”

“Did you know them through that, then? Were you a part of it?”

His heart skipped a beat. He didn’t like how close she was sailing to the wind, for Ariel did not know of his days as a Death Eater or the real role he had played in the first war, but if Albus was right and the Dark Lord was to return, he could not hide everything forever, no matter how much he yearned to,

“I was a member... but in a different sense.” Severus said. “I only met them once, and it was a brief encounter. They brought back a lot of information after battles… they were usually in the forefront of them.”

“How come you never —”

“Do you want to know about the Lestranges or would you like me to bring you up to Professor Dumbledore so that he can expect the logistics behind the Order?” Severus snapped, hating himself at once when Ariel curled away, dark eyes wide with surprise.

“You can go ahead. I was just curious.” Ariel whispered.

He tightened his grip around her in an apology, pulling her close, his tension melting away when she fell back into him, “The Lestranges, as you probably already guessed, were part of the Dark Lord’s ranks — Bellatrix Lestrange being the closest to him. Her husband, Rodolphus, was also in the inner circle, but did not show the same… _loyalty_ as his wife did. She was ruthless, willing to do whatever she needed to do to please her master. Around the time that the Dark Lord began hunting you and your brother, he sent Bellatrix and Rodolphus on a raid to extract information from the Longbottoms. They tortured them into madness and were sentenced to life in Azkaban after openly declaring their loyalty to the Dark Lord.”

“So… then, Damon’s their son?” She asked hesitantly, a hint of fear in her voice, not fully understanding the significance of this realization.

“Yes, and since his parents didn’t have the honor of raising him,” Severus nearly shuddered at the thought, “Bellatrix’s sister, Narcissa, and her husband, Lucius Malfoy, adopted him. They changed his surname in order to avoid the spotlight and papers. You see, Lucius was a Death Eater as well, but he was far wealthier and not nearly as loyal as his sister-in-law. He was able to evade capture and a trial, but do not be mistaken when I say that he is just as dangerous as Bellatrix. He’s more powerful, if possible, with the money and political influence he yields. He also has a son your brother’s age, named Draco.”

“Draco?” She made a face, “What kind of a name is _Draco?”_

He raised an eyebrow, “You had better not say that if and when you meet him in person. The Malfoys are a very proud family. I don’t think he’ll take too kindly to that.”

“Great,” Ariel muttered, “so there’ll be two of them next year.”

“Draco will most likely be in Slytherin. If anything, I will-”

“It’s not that I can’t handle them.” Ariel interrupted, “It’s just… the things Damon asked confused me. He made it sound like… like I should _know_ something.”

“Like what?” Severus asked sharply, “What did he ask you exactly, Ariel?”

“That just it… he didn’t ask anything specifically. He seemed surprised, almost _shocked,_ that I considered you my father and that I didn’t know Harry. I know most of the wizarding world doesn’t know the specifics of what happened to us… but…”

She was holding something back. She was wearing the same look she had worn when the potion had exploded in her bedroom back at Spinner’s End.

“And you said what exactly?” Severus questioned, tilting Ariel’s chin up and waiting for her to meet his gaze.

“I… I didn’t know how to answer. I know you said that I couldn’t really talk about our relationship and I didn’t…” Ariel looked up at him, his eyes full of questions, “You never told me why we have to keep our relationship a secret. I mean, don’t people know you adopted me? What’s the problem? It’s not like you’re a Death Eater or something.”

There was a split second of total silence.

Severus’ chest constricted in his chest as he struggled to control his emotions. He pushed them down, shoving them away in that long forgotten part of his mind. His secrets, his lies, his guilt, all locked away before another breath passed through his lips.

“It’s… it’s complicated, child.”

“Why? It’s never been a problem before.”

“The less the Malfoys know about _you_ , the better.” Severus jerked her chin upwards, “If he approaches you again with questions, you will come and tell me. You didn’t feel threatened, did you?”

“No… just… a bit flustered. It only upset me because he was asking about Harry and I… I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about him a lot lately and how unfair it all is…”

“It’s not unfair.” Severus stifled the urge to roll his eyes at the woes of a child, “It’s to keep you both safe.”

“Could you talk to the Headmaster and ask?”

“No.” His tone rang with finality, knowing that Albus would mostly likely arrange something if Severus came to him, but he couldn’t help and try and delay the inevitable.

He hadn’t known it until then, but the days he’d had with her had been slowly dwindling away. Between her earlier remark about Potter number two being her only family left and the likelihood that the boy would follow in his parent’s footsteps and be Sorted into Gryffindor as well meant that Ariel would slowly be lost to him. Selfish, perhaps, but Severus couldn’t help and try and save the small sliver of happiness he’d been granted.

“Please?” Her eyes began to water again, “Please, Dad? I won’t ask for anything ever again… I just need to meet him. Just once before school starts for him.”

Severus could feel a _“yes”_ on his lips at her begging, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud. And then a similar memory clouded his mind, causing his expression to harden.

_For Merlin’s sake, Severus, I’m asking — no, begging — you to look at what’s happened! Not just to me or you, to us!_

For _just this once,_ he had listened. And then she’d ran off and married Potter. Not that he could entirely blame her — Severus had practically forced her into his waiting, smug arms.

“No.” He answered tonelessly, not feeling repentant one bit. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice, even if it _was_ the girl’s _only family._

But he would murder Bellatrix’s spawn if he so much as _looked_ at his child.

And if the boy made her _cry_ again, well, Albus would most likely have to find a new potion’s master.

Ariel inched away from him and buried her face into her pillow. Severus simply stood, closing his eyes as she began to weep openly.

He had to see to the boy, and soon.

* * *

It looked the same every time he came, just as it did every time he left.

The streetlights had been switched on, and Severus frowned at this. It was later than he’d anticipated.

He hurriedly made his way down the street and past Number Four, where he knew what he was looking for would be. It was like clockwork after all these years, really. Severus never liked coming this late, but Ariel’s transition from resident to student wasn’t what he’d been expecting in the slightest. He’d been expecting her to flourish like Lily had.

Severus took a hard right, finding what he’d come for sitting glumly on the swings, feet dragging through the dirt.

The boy looked up once he noticed him — his mother’s eyes lightened. He did this every Wednesday. Petunia’s son stayed home on those days after school instead of going elsewhere, and the boy avoided him by staying at the playground around the corner.

Severus sighed and strode over to him.

“It’s late.” He snapped, “What are you still doing out here?”

His eyes disappeared from sight, leaving nothing but the boy’s unruly hair for Severus to glare at. His annoyance began to burn inside his chest.

“They’ll make me go to bed as soon as I get there.” Potter muttered, hanging his head. “Dudley’s favorite program is on tonight and they don’t want me to interrupt it.”

Severus rolled his eyes. An early bedtime — the boy had the audacity to complain about _that._ Severus recalled when Petunia had been putting hot sauce in the boy’s food to make it inedible, and how he’d acted like Severus was pulling teeth when he’d forced him to explain why he looked thinner.

“Let’s go.” Severus jerked his head at him, and Potter reluctantly got up.

“Aunt Petunia’s not going to be happy if she sees you.” The boy said, looking up at him. “Last time, she went on all night about it.”

“Glad to hear it.” He said flatly, meaning every word. Sometimes, Severus wondered if he came because of Ariel, or if he came because he loved the fact that Petunia hated that he did.

The boy gave him a small smile — Severus ignored it.

When they reached the house, Potter looked up at him. “You were late.”

“And you’re annoyingly observant.” Severus sneered down, giving him a push towards the door. “Go. Eat. _Now.”_

Potter nodded.

He watched as the boy walked over the threshold, and Apparated away.


	7. Oil on Water

Fed up with everyone and everything, Ariel decided on sleeping in Gryffindor Tower for the rest of the week. A small part of her wondered and hoped that maybe, just maybe, her father would change his mind and ask the Headmaster if she could go and see her brother, but knew it was more than a long shot. Her father was set in his ways, and once he was decided on something, there was no changing his mind. Ariel tried to tell herself that he was simply trying to keep her safe, but deep down, she couldn’t help but think that he was purposefully hiding something from her.

The next night was a rainy and musky one, fog clouding up the Gryffindor dorm window Ariel found herself staring into it. She loved them dorm itself. It was cozy and warm and easy to imagine her parents here.

It was almost two weeks into the semester, and she still hadn’t found anyone to talk to. The girls in her dorm were all so —  _different_ from her _,_ if that was even the word for it. It was like they’d all known each other before; they all had the same interests. Ariel, on the other hand, had been practically raised on Mars —  isolated from anyone her own age —  and she had to keep her private life a secret. Ariel had berated herself for spending the first night in her father’s quarters. The girls looked at her like she didn’t belong — and Ariel was starting to believe that just maybe, they were right.

It was rare to find alone time in her dorm like the moment she was living in now. She knew it wouldn’t last — the other girls were bound to return from the evening feast at any time now. Ariel sighed, and put her hand up to the cold glass, wiping away the haze on the window. Even through the rain, she could still make out the great lake, which appeared bottomless through the blustery night.

“She never talks to anybody. It’s awfully strange, I’ll admit that.” A muffled voice came from outside the dorm.

“Maybe she thinks she’s better than everyone because she was raised by the Headmaster. At least, that’s what they say.” This one was louder, approaching the room. Ariel turned around, furrowing her eyebrows. She’d almost forgotten that was what most people had assumed by now.

She wasn’t surprised, however —  Ariel was used to people talking about her behind her back.

That didn’t mean it didn’t bother her, though.

She dove behind the bed just as the door burst open, and a group of girls hurtled inside, giggling.

“Where does she go?” Katie’s voice was asking. “I only ever see her in class.”

“Does it matter?” Sally said. _“I_ don’t want her up here.”

“Oh, Sal, that’s a horrid thing to say.” Katie’s tone said anything but.

“What? You’re going to tell me _you_ want her up here? She’s _weird.”_

“Well, if you defeated You-Know-Who as a baby, I think you’d be a little off your rocker too.” Another voice laughed — Sarah MacGamut, a small, mousy girl with brown hair and tired eyes.

“Maybe they separated her and her brother because they didn’t want them… like, feeding off…”

“That’s a bit much, don’t you think?” She could hear Katie rolling her eyes. “She’s odd, but I don’t think she’s _that_ odd. Those Weasley twins say she’s normal.”

“Do you _see_ the way she dresses? She looks like… she’s never seen daylight.”

“Maybe she’s taking a page from Snape’s book.” The three of them laughed, and at this, Ariel leapt up from her hiding spot.

Katie Bell’s eyes aligned with hers first, her face suddenly reddening as if she had gotten a terrible burn, caught in the act.

“Hi, Ariel,” She said in a more modulated tone, trying to hide her embarrassment.

“Hi.” Ariel said back, hating how her voice trembled. A long silence hung through the air before Sally finally moved onto her bed, and she was closely followed by the other girls.

They drew the curtains, and the only sound left were hushed whispers and another round of giggles.

Ariel climbed into her own bed, reaching under her mattress for the picture of her family, and held it so tightly to her that it nearly hurt.

* * *

Later that same night, Severus found his fist banging on the Headmaster’s door without summoning.

“Come in!” A bright and cheery voice called, as it always did. Severus scowled and jerked the door open, finding Dumbledore behind his desk with an unusually large pile of paperwork. He’d never seen the old man with so much all at once. The most Dumbledore ever had on his desk at a time was some kind of pastry.

“Severus, my boy!” The shimmer in his eyes reminded him of fairy lights, “Unexpected, but a rather welcome surprise.”

“Headmaster,” Severus greeted curtly, eyeing the paperwork, “what is all this?”

“The Ministry asked me to go through some records on incoming Auror recruits.” He sighed, his mustache twitching, “I believe it's a new statute instated after the war — normally, I would say it's bothersome, but it’s rather… uplifting, to see so many fine students on the straight and narrow.”

Severus’ lip curled, trying not to feel like that last comment was somehow directed at _him._ “No doubt the majority of them are Gryffindors.”

“I find that it’s a fine mix.” Dumbledore removed his half moon spectacles and smiled up at him, “I believe there may be more Hufflepuffs in this group than I’ve been privy too.” His eyes went to the uninhabited space next to him. “I must admit, it’s rather strange to see you here without Ariel at your side.”

Severus agreed — it was odd, to say the least. It had been… surreal, to see Lily’s face staring at him among a sea of students inside his classroom. He’d felt a rush of fondness so strong that he’d nearly forgotten to call Ariel’s name in attendance — stronger than watching her sit under the Hat, or seeing her face pressed up against the window of the Hogwart’s Express, searching the crowd.

“My quarters are peaceful enough now.” Severus said instead. “Children herold the gift of non-stop chatter.”

Dumbledore twinkled at him.

Severus cleared his throat and looked around office, second guessing why he was here at all. He didn’t want to talk about his daughter. It was bad enough Severus had to watch her, clearly lost, and not be able to do anything. Ariel needed to find her own way, and he knew that sooner or later she would decide that Severus was not a part of that path. He would retreat back to the shadows, protecting her and the boy for their mother, but Ariel would want nothing to do with him when certain truths forced their way back to the surface.

He was torn between pursuing this with the old man, or getting to the matter at hand.

“She’s asking about the boy.” Severus decided on after a long pause.

Dumbledore didn’t look surprised by this — he never did. “She’s been asking for quite some time, Severus.”

“Not… like _this.”_ He kneaded his forehead. “She… the little monsters _talk,_ about him. About their situation.”

“Ariel will always be in the spotlight. So will Harry, when he arrives.”

“It’s none of their business.” Severus muttered. “She’s… anxious. I’m afraid she won’t find her footing.”

“She needs time.” Dumbledore said, an understanding smile on his face. “You’ve kept her away from public eye until now, my boy. Ariel needs to learn on her own who and what she is. That will take time. I’m sure Harry will be the same way.”

The boy didn’t even _know_ their world existed yet _._ Severus wasn’t going to be the fucking one to tell him — he’d leave that to whoever Dumbledore sent to see to the boy officially. He hadn’t been able to tell Ariel about the Dark Lord and her ridiculous title. It begged the question, however, if the girl was having difficulty, then how would the boy —

It didn’t matter. Ariel was _his —_ his responsibility. Potter was… not.

“She’s… lonely, I think.” Severus said, lowering his eyes and trying with all his might to ignore the ache that thundered inside him. “I don’t… I can’t help her —”

“And why not?” Dumbledore looked confused.

“I’m… there is distance between us now. There _needs_ to be. If I am to spy again…”

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, like he’d just realized something. Severus’ eyes narrowed. Fawkes chirped, like he was laughing at him.

“What is it?” He demanded.

“The girl adores you.”

Severus snorted. “That’s not quite the word I’d use.”

“Does Ariel not remind you of yourself when you were in school?” Dumbledore asked gently. “She’s lost. _Guide_ her. She takes your words to heart. Have you thought that perhaps she’s pulled away because she feels you have?”

Severus blinked at him. The look on the old man’s face was so infuriatingly telling, and yet, Severus could not comprehend his words. The girl was… so _above_ making herself miserable because their life together had ended. The world, and quite literally, _the bloody world,_ was at her fingertips, awaiting and and the boy. Her House had welcomed her with open arms… a House in which she’d be loved, in a way Severus could never. _He_ was supposed to be bitter and full of sorrow, because his daughter would have sought out the life the Potter name and Lily would have wanted her to have.

No — Ariel would never be so ridiculous as to place _his_ feelings as something of worth.

“As for the boy…” Dumbledore’s eyes took on a serious tint. “You cannot keep that from her forever, Severus. She’ll need to know eventually.”

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

No, he could not keep Potter from her. Pandora’s box would be opened, and the first wave of hatred would bury him. Ariel would…  well, she would feel what Lily had felt all those years ago.

Severus left, leaving Conscious with Dumbledore.

* * *

The weeks began to pass by agonizingly and Ariel occupied herself by burying herself in her schoolwork.

She found solace in immersing herself in schoolwork. There wasn’t really one class she could consider her _favorite_ just yet. Defense was interesting enough, an area that seemed to come naturally to her, like Potions. Professor Merrythought, who was the grandson of Galatea Merrythought, the Defense professor nearly forty years ago, was a good teacher, though he talked a bit too much for Ariel’s taste. But she was good at it — unlike Flying lessons, which she _loathed._

Damon Malfoy hadn’t spoken a word to her since their first encounter in the library, but he still continued to stare at her when he thought Ariel wasn’t watching _him._ Her father had asked her on several occasions if he was still bothering her, but at that point, the Malfoy-boy-staring had become something that Ariel had gotten used to. As long as he wasn’t talking to her, Ariel didn’t have a problem, and so she told Severus not to worry.

September rolled into October, the usual cold in the air arriving with it. That wasn’t the only thing feeling chilly, though — Ariel had not spoken a single word to her roommates since the night she’d caught them talking about her.

She supposed it was her fault they didn’t like her. Ariel didn’t know what it was, because she had never been around anyone but Severus, but she didn’t… _care_ that they seemed to dislike her. They cleared out of the room in the morning long before Ariel woke up. If one of them was in the bathroom and she walked in, they’d leave immediately.

Ariel was heading to Potions, cutting it close as she flew into the classroom and hurried over to her usual seat. While she was better in Potions than she was in Defense due to her father’s years of tutoring her beforehand, her natural skills allowed her to usually finish earlier than anyone else, always receiving good, if not perfect marks, from her father. But her aptitude didn’t excuse lateness, especially when her father was _Professor Snape._

No, Professor Snape was not the person Ariel felt like dealing with that day. But as she hurried over to her usual seat and found the chair next to her, usually vacant, occupied, she realized that her luck just may have run out. Her father had made good on his promise to treat her equally among her peers, but he hadn’t a reason to single her out yet. Her potions were fine, her behavior in check, and attendance spotless.

Damon Malfoy’s goal for today seemed to be putting an end to that streak.

Ariel sat in the middle of the room every Potion’s class, not wanting to hide in the back, or be at the very front, under her father’s glare. He hadn’t spoken a word to her in class, but there was some times where he’d stand behind her and watch — but he did that to everyone. Damon usually sat in the back. No one occupied the seat next to him.

Today, however, he plopped down right beside her. His rucksack made such a clatter that Katie Bell let out a small shriek. She the proceeded to glare at Ariel, like _she_ had somehow done it.

“What are you doing?” Ariel hissed at Damon, nails digging into the textbooks in her hands as her head whipped to the side door, awaiting her father to fly in and begin class any second. “Go and sit somewhere else!”

“On the contrary,” Damon inspected his fingernails nonchalantly, not bothering to even look up at her, “I quite like this seat. I’ve been eyeing it for weeks.”

For some reason, Ariel didn’t think he was talking about the seat. “Malfoy, I’m not kidding. _Get up_ and go _sit somewhere else._ I’m not doing this right now, _especially_ in this class.”

“Oh come on, Potter, just give me a chance.” He looked over at her. “I don’t bite, I promise.”

Ariel glared back in response.

“Look,” He sighed, “I didn’t mean to upset you the last time we spoke. You weren’t what I was expecting and I guess I came off a little —”

“Arrogant?” She offered, “Cocky? Annoying? Obnoxious?”

“Okay, okay, I’ll admit to all four.” Damon propped his head against his elbow resting on the desk.“I’m sorry, alright? Can I try this again?”

Her father’s voice automatically filled her head, warning her to walk away and find another seat, already berating her for engaging him at all. But then a small smile crept across Ariel’s lips at the idea of Severus walking in, seemingly buddy-buddy with the boy he’d been warning her to stay away from.

The only person who seemed _remotely_ interested in her —

Well, Ariel _was_ lonely. And Severus _had_ denied her the opportunity to meet her brother.

_He didn’t like her either_

She supposed that maybe it was fair of her to give Damon Malfoy another chance.

Ariel opened her textbook with an audible _THUMP_ as Damon’s face stretched into a smile.

The classroom door swung open, and Severus stepped inside just seconds later. While taking attendance, he stopped at Damon’s name and frowned, eyes glued to where he usually sat. He had ignored Ariel their first lesson, the only acknowledgment during attendance, when the class had erupted into whispers and his eyes had shot to her for a split second, emotionless and cold.

“I’m over here, sir.” Damon called, raising his hand.

The temperature within the classroom dropped instantly when Severus realized just where he had migrated to.

“Mr Malfoy,” Her father said in a very, _very_ dangerous voice, “may I ask why you are not in your usual seat?”

Ariel looked up her father innocently as his narrowed eyes darted back and forth between the two of them.

“I’ve decided to change things up a little bit, sir.” Damon replied, a smile playing on his lips, though he sounded quite serious. She wondered how he wasn’t cowering in his seat.

The room was deathly quiet. Ariel didn’t think anyone was so much as breathing.

To her relief, her father began the class instead of pressing the matter. “Partner up, and begin the assigned potion.” He barked, flipping the blackboard around and sitting at his desk, coal eyes burning a hole into her head.

This wasn’t going to be fun.

“Let’s go, _partner.”_ Damon said, stretching as he stood up and began gathering the ingredients.

Ariel looked at him incredulously, “You’re joking.”

“Oh come on.” Damon groaned, “You don’t know anyone, and I don’t _like_ anyone. We’re destined to be partners!” He poked her teasingly.

“Who says I don’t know anyone?” She snapped, grabbing a vial of holly leaves from his hand and placing two inside the cauldron.

“My observations.”

“Do you _really_ want to start that chat again?” Ariel gave him a warning look as the burner ignited.

“Well, it’s not like I can say more for myself.” Damon chuckled as he hopped up on a stool and watched, “I’m not really a fan of anyone in my House, and quite honestly, they don’t seem to like me much either. But I haven’t decided on why yet.”

“If that’s supposed to make me feel better, I’ll stop you there.”

“I wasn’t trying to insult you.” He said quietly, letting her start the potion herself, “I’m sorry if I did. I just figured that you’d know who I was an already have an opinion of me before you even met me.”

“Well it sure seems that you had an opinion of _me.”_ Ariel muttered as she began to dice the Valerian root.

“You’re different. You have a good reputation.”

“And you don’t?” She raised an eyebrow at him, “I haven’t heard anyone say a word about your family since I started school here. I wouldn’t have even cared if you didn’t want me to know. I know where a lot of the kids come from in Slytherin. My f — I mean, _Snape_ is kind of your Head of House.”

“So if I hadn’t mentioned it, you wouldn’t have cared?” Damon sounded doubtful.

Ariel looked over at him from across the cauldron, letting the simmering of the potions and the other class mates quiet murmurs fill the air between them.

“No.” She finally said, “I wouldn’t have. I’m not so shallow that I’d let your what your parents did form my view of you. It’s not _your_ fault.”

“And now that you do know?” He said in a near whisper.

“Well, I don’t like you after all the questions you asked. You certainly acted like the son of a Death Eater with the interrogation you put me through.” Ariel glowered at him as she began to stir the potion counterclockwise.

“I _was_ trying to catch you off guard.” Damon admitted, “But I didn’t mean to go so far. I just… you didn’t seem to know much of everything for the girl everyone adores. You should have heard people talking on the train.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Snape told you about my family, then?” He leaned forward, his voice low.

Ariel hesitated before nodding, “He did. He also warned me to stay away from you.”

Damon barked a laugh and glanced behind them. She glanced at her father from the corner of her eye, finding that his glare had not left them since they’d begun. She was quite sure that the burning smell in the room must have been from the intensity of his stare.

“That smells awful.” Damon made a face as the potion began to smoke a bit. “What’re we making again?”

“Can’t you read?” Ariel motioned to the board, not meeting her father’s eyes. She was rather impressed that he hadn’t exploded, like Cormac’s was at the moment. He didn’t even seem to notice.

“You need a viper eye.” He looked over their ingredients, frowning. “This was looks damaged, though.”

“It’ll do.”

“Or we could get another.” He grinned — there was nothing innocent about it.

“Do you have to be so obnoxious?” Ariel snapped as Damon stole a better looking snake eye from the group behind them. She would have made him return it, but it was the Carrow sisters. They’d tripped her in the halls the other day, and Fred had turned their textbooks into mice.

Damon shrugged, “If if gets me a better grade, than yeah.” He tossed it in-between his hands for a moment, obviously thinking about something before he looked back at her, “So then what did he say about my uncle?”

Ariel blinked, freezing in the midst of pouring in the last of the Omega sap, “Excuse me? Who are we talking about?”

“Snape.” He looked just as confused, “Who’d you think?”

Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times, trying to decide if he was simply monitoring her reaction, or if was an actual genuine question. She assumed the first was true, because her father was constantly pulling things like false questions in order to figure out the truth. Unlucky for Damon, Severus’ tactics had provided her with a lot of practice in this area.

Ariel forced her face to smooth over and went back to tending to the potion while trying to regulate her quickening heartbeat, “He doesn’t know your uncle like that.”

“He comes by every once in awhile for tea with my aunt and uncle.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Yes, he does. That’s why I asked about him in the first place. I was surprised to hear that you considered him your _father,_ of all things. I knew he raised you or what not, but I had no clue you were so close. He’s mentioned it to Lucius… but he made it sound like…”

“Like what?” Ariel demanded. The sprig in her hand snapped in two.

Damon studied her for a long moment, the blue in his eyes lightening.

“Nothing.” He said finally. “They’re just… they sound like old friends.”

“He doesn’t involve himself with Death Eaters.” Ariel replied coolly, daring him to continue objecting. “I don't know what you've overheard, or how you know he and I are close, but you should drop it.”

Damon didn’t respond at first, watching her like he was awaiting her to continue arguing. But Ariel simply went about finishing the draught, which was coming along rather nicely despite the distraction. If Damon was going to go about this the nice-guy-way, then fine. She wouldn’t let him upset her second time. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“I’m not one of them, you know.” Ariel peered back at him as he spoke, quickly counting exactly fourteen stirs clockwise. She smiled a bit as the potion turned a deep green, but Damon’s face had gone void of any humor. He was staring at her, blue eyes holding a pleading quality to them.

She was a bit taken aback at his expression, but kept her head level, “What? You’re not an arrogant toerag?”

“I’m serious.” His head bowed, “I… I wasn’t trying to upset you. I thought you’d know all of this. That’s why I keep bothering you. I… I’m not an aspiring Death Eater, alright?”

A bit stunned, Ariel lowered the ladle and studied him carefully, “What do I have to do with your ambitions? If you don’t want to be a Death Eater, then bloody don’t.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Then what do _I_ have to do with that?” She asked, unbelieving.

“Well, you’re the —”

“If you say Chosen One, I’ll dump this potion over your head.”

His lips turned upwards at the corners at that, “You’re not afraid of me like some of the others. I thought I’d stick with someone who knows how to hold their own.”

“Oh, is that all?” She rolled her eyes and turned off the burner.

“And… well… I guess because…”

“Mr Malfoy!” Her father called venomously from the front of the room. Ariel tensed, bracing herself for the wrath that was undoubtedly about to be unleashed upon the both of them.

“Yes, sir?” Damon asked in a very polite voice. Ariel wondered just how he did that with a straight face.

“What color is your potion, Mr Malfoy?”

Ariel gave Severus a look that clearly read _“please don’t”_ as Damon took a look at the simmering potion, “Um… it’s a dark green, like it says on the board.”

“And how much of the actual work did you do, Mr. Malfoy?”

He hesitated, “The… the usual amount, sir?”

“Oh really? Because from _my_ observations, you did not drop one single ingredient into that potion.”

Ariel couldn’t help but feel that that statement was a bit ironic.

Severus smirked viciously at the two of them as Damon struggled to defend himself. Ariel could see it coming a mile away — he was coming in for the kill, no matter how unfair it might be. He was going to try and make sure Damon would stay away from her.

Damon glanced at Ariel from the corner of his eye — a cry for help.

“He… he stirred it, sir.” She called weakly, “He was reading the directions to me as I went along… I was confused —”

“Thirty points from Gryffindor, Miss Potter.” Severus snapped, “For not allowing Mr Malfoy an opportunity to learn.”

It took her a moment to register what he’d said.

 _“What?”_ Ariel bleated. She looked to Damon, bewildered, while the Gryffindors let out a groan and the Slytherins snickered.

“Thought you'd take all the credit for the assignment, did you?” He sneered.

“I — _no,_ I wasn't trying to —”

“It wasn't like that, sir.” Damon tried weakly, looking just as taken off guard as she was. “I wasn't paying attention… I’d have ruined it if I’d tried.”

“Regardless,” Severus said softly, “I think that Miss Potter is having some difficulty identifying what House she’s in.”

Ariel felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. Her ears rang as half the class gasped with shock, the other with glee. Her father’s eyes were so cold that they burned. It felt like frostbite.

“Hand in your assignments.” Severus said as Ariel fell into her seat, biting the inside of her cheek. She wouldn't cry — she wouldn't give the Slytherins the satisfaction or make a scene.

Damon looked helpless as he reluctantly stood and dropped their potion at her father’s desk. Ariel didn't move from her seat until he came back, picking up her rucksack and throwing it over her shoulder. She needed to get out of here — she couldn't _breathe_ down here right now —

He’d never spoken to her as such. Severus had roared at her, told her she was insufferable and irritating, but he had never focused his cruelty on her like _that._

_He didn’t like her he had never wanted her_

“I’m sorry.” Damon whispered as Ariel began to pack up her things with shaking hands. “I didn't mean to… what I mean is —”

“S’not your fault.” Ariel said tonelessly. “Not like _you_ made him take points.”

“No…” He hesitated. “You sure you're close? What he said —”

“He’s a git.” She spat, sending a glare to the front of the room. “But he’s not a sodding Death Eater like you think.”

Damon averted his eyes to the floor at that, a look of sadness flickering through ice-blue eyes, until an entirely new emotion replaced it.

“Then let me prove I’m not.” He took a bold step towards her as the other students clamored up to the front of the room.

“How?” Ariel asked. A part of her conscious wondered why she was even entertaining this. Had she really gotten _this_ desperate for friends?

A grin spread across his face as he turned away.

“You’ll see.” Damon said.

And then he was gone.

Ariel shook her head and gathered her own things, shoving her textbook into her bag, when a sharp voice cut through the air just as the last of the student filed out of the classroom.

“Come _here_ , Miss Potter.”

She gave her father a horrible look, turning on her heel and ignoring him. The opened classroom door slammed shut, blocking her escape. Ariel whirled around and put her hands on her hips, glowering.

Severus beckoned her forward with a silent finger. Ariel huffed, gritted her teeth, and stalked to his desk, keeping her glare level with his.

Neither said anything for a long, pregnant, pause.

“That was unfair.” Ariel finally said, her voice cutting through the steely silence.

“It was necessary.” Came her father’s instant reply.

“He was apologizing, you know.”

That caused him to raise an eyebrow, coal eyes narrowed in suspicion, “And you believed him?”

Ariel hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“I want you to _stay_ _away_ from him. Did I not make that clear?”

 _“Why?”_ Angry tears sprang to her eyes. “It’s not _fair.”_

“Not _fair?”_ Severus almost looked offended. “Do you think I enjoy this any more than you do?”

“I”m sick of keeping secrets! The others in my year think I’m _weird_ because I don’t talk to them because I can’t bloody _tell them anything!”_

There was no sympathy in his eyes. They were cold and blacker than night — blacker than hers.

“He’s the only person who’s _tried_ to be my friend!” Angry tears sprang to Ariel’s eyes. “You and _Mum_ were friends, and you were in different Houses! Why does this have to be any different?”

His eyes turned into slits. If Ariel hadn’t known better, she would have thought that he flinched.

“It is different,” Her father hissed, “because there will come a day where he will show his true nature, and the farther away from him you are, the better. I am trying to keep you _safe.”_

“You could have moved him if you were so concerned.” She shot back defiantly, “I couldn’t help it!”

Her father’s quill slammed onto the desk and he rose, towering over her, “You questioned me when I reprimanded him! After I’ve _told_ you what he is, you attempted to aid him, simply because he _apologized._ I don’t say these things simply for my health, Ariel! _”_

“Do you know Lucius Malfoy?” The words left her lips without her permission, but if her father was going to throw accusations at a person who he didn’t know, then she might as well let him know that Damon had his doubts about _him._ Not that Ariel believed a word of it, but she’d like to see the look on his face when he found out the boy, who was still just as confusing to Ariel as he was when she first met him, thought _Severus_ might be the bad guy here.

There was a long pause as a look passed over her father’s face that nearly made her shiver, “I do. There are few who don’t, I would imagine. What does this —”

“Do you visit him? Damon said you have tea every once in awhile with him and his wife.”

Another long moment of silence. Her father allowed his curtain of hair to cover his face as she waited, her heart leaping into her throat at the possibility that Damon could have been telling the truth.

“The Headmaster asks me to check in with them every so often.” Severus finally answered, sounding as if he were dictating the words carefully, “You already know the evaded capture during the war. I simply go to make sure they’re not up to things that they… _shouldn’t be.”_

Her jaw nearly hit the floor. Ariel racked her brain when Severus would have left — if he’d ever said he was visiting with someone before. He didn’t have friends. He didn’t even have _acquaintances._ Her father hated people.

“Why _you?_ It’s not like you were a Death Eater! _”_ Ariel asked, bewildered, “Why haven’t you ever told me?”

“It’s simply a precaution.” He said shortly, waving her off as he seated himself once more. His dismissal only made her angrier.

“He _knows_ about you and I!” She snapped. “You say it’s so important that people don’t get the wrong idea — is that why you said what you did before? Do you want your House to hate me so no one will know? Well _guess what —_ Damon knows! He knows whatever you told his uncle, who’s supposed to be a Death Eater. And _you_ told me that! Not him!”

Severus went very still. If a light breeze had filtered through the room, it probably would have knocked him over. Ariel got the impression he was trying not to break something.

His silence was the only confirmation she needed.

Damon _hadn’t_ been lying. In fact, Damon Malfoy had told her the _truth_ about something, something Severus had just confirmed himself. Could it be that there was another reason that her father wanted her to stay away from him?

Well, she’d just have to find out for herself.

Without another word, Ariel turned on her heel, and left.

* * *

Severus watched the girl leave.

 _“Fuck.”_ He said out loud.

Her eyes had filled with —

His hand collided with the vials the little dunderheads had handed in. Each one that hit the ground sounded like hail against a windowpane.

— betrayal.

“Fucking,” Severus snarled, “Motherfucking _shit.”_

_She takes your words to heart_

The blackboard cracked right down the middle.

* * *

If there was ever cause to doubt Severus, Ariel supposed today would be that cause.

The next week seemed to pass her by without her noticing it. She did not go to see Severus again — she stayed in Gryffindor Tower, taking extra caution to stay away from the other girls. Some nights, Fred or George played her in chess, but the feeling of abandonment crept nearer and nearer.

The dreams were getting worse, too, as if Ariel didn’t have enough to worry about.

Ariel felt like she’d come down with some terrible flu every time they happened, which was almost every night nowadays. Her scar would burn, which had never happened before, and she’d be shaking so bad that she almost thought she would pass out. But Ariel never did — she’d take several deep breaths and drag herself to the bathroom to calm down.

She dreamt of a boy, though, she didn’t know if it was _actually_ dreaming. Ariel was fully aware when all of this was happening. It wasn’t like lucid dreaming, though, because she couldn’t control what was happening. The edges of her vision was shimmer, like a mirage, and Ariel would follow the boy. It was like a cord was tied between them — wherever he went, she did.

He was younger than her by a year or so, with raven-black hair and green eyes, like holly leaves. His clothes were too big for him sometimes — other times they fit. He wandered around a Muggle street most nights — other nights, he would just lie in bed.

The boy liked like her dad — James.

He looked how she imagined Harry.

When Ariel had realized this, she’d cried in the bathroom until she’d heard the girls in her year beginning to get ready for the day.

She wondered if it was her guilty conscious, or maybe all of her longing had just manifested itself into dreams where she was forced to watch him without being able to talk to him. Ariel didn’t know what was worth — not seeing him at all, or seeing him and not being able to reach out.

But, of course, they weren’t real. That was ridiculous.

_(She liked to think they were)_

Ariel decided to try and take her mind off of things one weekend by wandering the grounds. Her father had never let her do so as a child, but now she was student, and he couldn’t ban her from doing so without cause. Besides, there were only a few days left Ariel and the other students could enjoy the weather outside before it got too cold.

That was the day she’d found Damon sitting by the lake.

He had been sitting on a log, jumping a bit when the sand beneath her boots crunching underneath startled him. And then something lit up in those cobalt eyes of his, something that Ariel didn’t think anyone had ever looked at her with before as she sat down beside him.

“I thought you’d run the other way when you saw me.” Damon said with a smirk. The cloak he was wearing looked like it cost as much as all her textbooks combined.

“I don’t scare _that_ easy.” Ariel rolled her eyes. “I’m a Gryffindor after all.”

“Yeah, and neither does Snape. He was prowling out here earlier.” 

“He’s just trying to protect me.” She shot back defensively, even though she wholeheartedly agreed, “My father would wring my neck if he knew I was here. I’m not scared of _him_ either.”

“So why’d you come?” Damon eyes turned to the calm, deep blue lake before them.

She thought about it for a moment before answering, following his gaze out to the water, “I want to know what you know about my father.”

“You’re using me for information now?” He quirked an eyebrow, “And you’re _telling_ me?”

“I could say the same about you.” She crossed her legs, “How do I know you’re not doing this for your uncle?”

Something in his face hardened at the word _uncle,_ “Because I’m not like them. I don’t believe in what goes on behind closed doors.”

Ariel stared at him intently. “Why?”

 _“Why?”_ Damon chuckled humorlessly, tossing a pebble into the lake, “You-Know-Who was _mad,_ my mother being another prime example. My uncle, on the other hand, is a coward, but flaunts as if he isn’t. And he knows I know that, which is why he hates me, but quite honestly, his opinion of me isn’t what bothers me.”

She hesitated before answering, “Then what does?”

He didn’t answer her, but instead stood and shoved his hands into his robe pockets, looking down at her pleadingly, “I wasn’t trying to plant doubts in your head. It’s just that after years of only the Death Eaters that escaped trials during the first war visiting Lucius, I kind of assumed Snape was part of the same crowd. And if you believe that he’s good —”

“He is.” Ariel interrupted sharply.

“Then I believe you.” Damon said, an absolution in his voice that brought a tiny smile to her face, “But my uncle isn’t, and that’s why I bothered you in the first place.”

Confused, Ariel simply looked at him, prompting him to continue.

He took a deep breath, “Not even the Death Eaters know what happened that night… not that I would expect them to… but they made it seem as though you were some dark witch. And then I thought about… _wondered_ why Dumbledore would keep you at Hogwarts with Snape, the same guy who Lucius considers the only good professor here. Snape… he talked about you… not the way you talk about him. And then… I kind of… I… I wanted to meet you and see for myself. I began to think, _‘what if they’re wrong?’”_

Her stomach felt like a knife had been plunged deep inside it.

“What does he say?” Ariel asked in a very quiet voice.

Damon seemed to hesitate. “You don’t… I’m sure he says it just because…”

“Tell me.” She snapped, feeling the knife twist itself.

His demeanor shifted then. Ariel stared at him, his body practically vibrating with fear and anticipation for what he was going to say. But then Damon ruffled his hair, and flashed her a sly smirk.

“You know… you know loads about me.” He grinned, flashing his teeth. “I don’t know anything about _you._ I thought I did, but talking about me is rather boring, don’t you think?”

She gave him a look. “Nice try, Malfoy. Tell me what you were going to say.”

“How about this.” Damon sighed, picking up a blade of grass and twisting it through his fingers. “You tell me something about yourself, and I’ll spill what Snape said. Deal?”

Ariel didn’t like this idea very much, but she was willing to do anything in order to know what her father had said about her. “What do you wanna know?”

He shrugged. “Nothing much. Just your deepest, darkest secret.”

She scowled at him. He flicked the blade of grass of her and gave a mockingly exasperated sigh. “Fine. Tell me about Harry.”

The sharp pain in her stomach worsened. “I _told_ you — I don’t know him. We’ve… never met.”

“Why?” His eyebrows furrowed.

“My f— _Snape_ said it’s because keeping us apart would guarantee our safety until we were old enough to come here. He’s with relatives.”

“So you’ve never seen him? Not even for visits?”

“No, I —” Ariel stopped, a vision of a black-haired boy with green eyes filling her head.

She remembered her dreams.

“What is it?” Damon asked, curiosity lighting up his face like a Christmas tree.

Ariel bit her lip and looked down at her lap. She didn’t know, but a part of her wanted to tell him about the dreams of her brother. She knew it was impossible for them to be real… but something told her there was more to them than she thought. It had been so long — maybe the first time — that Ariel felt like she could open up to someone wholeheartedly. Her father had never…

“I dream about him sometimes.” She told him. “I haven’t always… it’s just been recently. I like to think it’s really him…”

Damon didn’t say anything. He gazed at her, almost thoughtfully, and then looked back to the lake. Ariel, in the meantime, took a deep, steadying breath. Her teeth were chattering, but she knew it had nothing to do with the cold.

“Snape told my uncle you were an insufferable brat.” Damon said, suddenly. “And that there was nothing extraordinary about you at all.”

It took Ariel a minute to remember what he meant — and then —

The sharp pain in her stomach began to burn, traveling up towards her chest — towards her heart. She wrapped her arms around herself and nodded. Her head was building up with a tight kind of pressure, one she couldn’t alleviate, no matter how deep she made her breathing —

“He was wrong.” He said softly. She looked up at him, and his look in his eyes made the burn begin to fade gradually.

Ariel hadn’t recognized the possibility — or realized — until she was around eight or nine that Severus didn’t like her. When she’d been younger, he had been all she had known. He looked at her like he wanted to hate her, sometimes. There was a way he looked at her sometimes that felt like heartbreak, but was also so cold that it was just on the edge of cruelty.

It made her wonder how he ever could have been friends with her mum.

Severus had never talked about her. The only reason Ariel knew they'd known each other at all was because she'd caught him with a picture of her one day. She’d awoken in the middle of the night by a bad dream, padding to her father’s bedroom only to find him in the living room, a picture of Lily in his hands.

He’d been staring at it with such a deep sadness that Ariel had felt her own throat tighten. When he’d caught her watching, there had been a flash of fear so strong that Ariel’s own heartbeat had begun to accelerate.

 _“You knew her.”_ She’d whispered.

They'd both stared at the picture until Ariel had fallen asleep, and then Severus had never spoken of her again. She’d clung to that memory.

“Why would he say that?” Damon asked, looking calculating.

“How am I supposed to know what goes on in his head?” Ariel half-snapped, half-sighed.

“ _I_ don’t think he hates you, anymore, if that makes you feel any better.” Damon cocked his head to the side.

“I just… I feel like everyone, including him, wants me to be… something else, because I survived the Killing Curse. Like, they always expect more of me, and then when they find out I’m a normal person, they get disappointed.” Ariel said bitterly. “Maybe Harry will be what they’re looking for, because I’m not.”

“I grew up thinking that you were a great and powerful witch, because that’s what my uncle imagines — same thing for your brother. I don’t think any different now that I know you’re a _normal_ person.”

“Even if I’m not some great and powerful witch?” Ariel asked in mock offense.

Damon smiled and continued, “I thought about the idea of you being good instead of this secret weapon the Dark Lord had. And if you were… I figured that you were my best chance.”

“Best chance?” She asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“To put myself on the right side.” It was decisive, clear, and spoken in barely a whisper.

“And you think _I’m_ some way out? Look, I already told you, I have no clue what happened that night —”

“And I believe you.” Damon said seriously, “But you’re on the right side of this war. Your parents were. I’m sure your brother is.”

“Why do you keep mentioning him?” Ariel snapped, fighting the lump that formed in her throat.

“You’re only one half of the story. He’s the Boy-Who-Lived, marked just like you were —”

“But I’m… I’m not!” She jumped up, “If that’s the only reason you want to be my friend, then I don’t know why I bothered. I don’t want to be used as some scapegoat simply because Voldemort botched my murder. My father was right —”

“Your father visits my uncle every summer.” Damon said quietly, “They speak as if they’re old friends. I thought that maybe you’d be coming from the same situation.”

“He’s never--”

“I got that.” He said abruptly, “I just don’t understand it.”

“Why do you _need_ to? It’s none of your business.”

He didn’t answer for a very long time, and when he finally did, his eyes had lost some of the blue, and his hands were wringing anxiously in his robes. “If you want me to leave you alone, I will. I just… I wanted to apologize for what happened last month. I never meant to upset you. That’s the last thing I wanted. But I’m _not_ my mother’s son. All I wanted was the chance to meet you, okay?”

Something took hold of her then, and Ariel reached a hand toward him, not exactly knowing why. He stared back at it before taking it cautiously, gratitude shining for every inch of his face, so much so that she could nearly feel it when their skin touched.

“My Dad doesn’t want me friends with you.” Ariel began, averting her eyes to the sand.

“And I don’t want to get you in trouble.” He gave her a sad smile, gently letting go of her hand.

“But that doesn’t mean I’m going to listen to him.” She finished, flashing him a coy smile, “That is, if you’re up for it.”

“Well, I have always wanted to be friends with a Golden Girl…” Damon teased as he flashed a smirk.

Ariel resisted the urge to swat his head. “Then it’s settled. _But,_ on one condition.”

“And what might that be?” He asked.

“Don’t call me Golden Girl.”

“Okay,” Damon paused, and his smile grew more prominent. “Golden Girl.”

“Merlin, Malfoy.” Ariel couldn’t help but smile, or force sarcasm behind her words. “Don’t make me regret this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you guys so much for the support and reviews. I seriously treasure every single one. They make writing so much easier. Thank you Xx


	8. Beneath the Skin

Severus did not know about the dreams Ariel was experiencing, but he sure as hell knew about her new friend.

She couldn’t remember him ever acting so strangely aggravating, even if he’d _really_ had a reason to be furious with her. He _couldn’t_ openly hate Damon the way he did in private. If he did, it would arouse suspicion from Lucius. He never said that, but Ariel wasn’t stupid. Whatever role her father had obviously had to be kept.

Ariel didn’t know what to make of that. _Severus_ and _spy_ seemed like a very strange combination.

So that meant, most of the time, he found excuses to be difficult.

It took the form of detentions and stalking, the kind that was least expected every time she thought she was safe. The punishments were nothing more than him dragging her to his quarters and forcing her to stay there. Her escape came when Ariel had classes. Her father, though Ariel didn’t doubt he thought of it, couldn’t keep her from _those._ It was up to her and Damon from there to find places to hideout until curfew.

Somedays, Ariel wondered if it was too much, if she was going too far to maintain a friendship that she wasn’t sure she liked herself. Damon was… interesting, to say the least. The most they seemed to have in common was that no one else in their year liked them much. He didn’t study, like she did, or do homework, though he got good marks — better than her, even. It drove her mad, sometimes, for him to be the kind of smart that didn’t require him to have to slave over hours work like her and the other students.

On the list of pros, he was a source of information for all of the things Severus had decided _not_ to tell her before she started school. And… though Ariel hated to admit it, she _did_ enjoy his company… most of the time, anyways.

All of this, no matter how greatly it grated against her nerves, of course, had not distracted Ariel from the issue of her brother. It was in the numerous quiet times she had, while she was laying in bed at night, reading in front of the fire in her father’s quarters, or perhaps dozing off in Binns’ class, that the faceless figure would cloud her mind and tug at her heartstrings. Ariel hated to push Harry from her mind, but she had to, or she was quite sure she would drive herself mad if she kept obsessing on it. Harry was safe and happy wherever he was, with Mum’s sister.

But the dreams began to become clearer and her previous beliefs began to change.

Ariel lay in the bed one night, awakening at a couple of minutes after one in the morning, chest heaving and hair matted to her forehead with sweat. Up until now, her dreams had been flashes of colors and whispers of voices, but the clarity in which she had dreamt tonight was paralyzing. It was no longer a boy walking and her following. It was watching him do things, hearing conversations and voices and faces. Petunia… Dudley… Vernon… _Harry —_

But most unnerving, was that the lightning shaped scar on her forehead _burned_ — not just a dull ache, and it had never done that before. Ariel squeezed her eyes shut, scrunching them together so tightly that it almost hurt, but it didn’t stop the pictures floating through her mind. When she finally opened them again, Ariel was met with blackness, fully aware she was not awake, and then her body sprang up, shaking and feeling as though she were still there.

That was the first night that she woke up sobbing, and it was not from the pain in her forehead.

They couldn’t be real, of course, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. To see her brother, apparently all alone, in such a place made her guilt over not knowing him only intensify. Was this her conscious’ way of punishing? Or perhaps she was punishing herself without realizing it?

They began to take on a pull, a force that would drag her from a peaceful slumber and into a newly-familiar setting. A kitchen, cleaning dishes late at night as a Muggle television blared in background. A tall, horsey looking woman who vaguely resembled their mother, though in the farthest terms, snapping at Harry to hurry up, only for him to be sitting in a bedroom, looking dejected a flash later. Ariel found herself no longer waking up frightened, but _angry._ If these imaginings were real, why in Merlin’s name would they treat him in such a way? Harry never seemed to do anything wrong. If anything, he just _existed._

The beginning of November were when things began to take a turn for the worst. The pain in her scar started to slowly crescendo one week, divulging from the dull ache to a slight headache, and then to what felt like a full blown migraine. Ariel almost felt nauseous when she awoke, finally sending herself flying to the loo to make sure there was no evidence of her nightly terrors the following morning. She’d taken to sleeping in Gryffindor Tower in order to escape her father’s interrogations, which were a combination of his unfairness towards Damon, her brother, and the lies she told him about her sleeping patterns. It wasn’t hard to lie to him, because Ariel had stopped sleeping in the dungeons. The tension down there was so thick that it felt like she was suffocating.

Guilt was slowly gnawing its way through her as the dreams became brighter and varied in content. Harry was all alone, wherever he was, and while there had been dreams where he’d seemingly found something to entertain himself, Ariel couldn’t help but cringe, knowing it wasn’t to last. A ride on a swing-set cut short by a fat, blonde boy and his friends, chasing after Harry as he ran. Laying in his room, drawing on a piece of Muggle paper that he’d stolen from the at boy’s room, only to be called away by a high pitched shriek of _“boy!”_ Doing a bit of accidental magic, and smiling at it, amazement lighting up holly-green eyes before his face contorted into puzzlement at whatever he’d done.

Harry never looked frightened though — on the contrary, he seemed almost _indifferent,_ which was what caused Ariel to weep aloud in her bed at night sometimes. Her normal and _his_ normal were two very different things, and she longed to show him that reality was so far from what Harry had come to know.

 _“Harry.”_ Ariel whispered aloud one night, as if by speaking his name, he’d appear. But the bedroom stayed dark and quiet, but something in her heart changed.

She didn’t hide them from everyone, however.

“Are you okay?” Damon asked as they walked out of Charms one day, Ariel covering her mouth with a yawn, “This is the third time this week you’ve dozed off in class. You’re starting to worry me.”

“M’fine.” She muttered, “I’ve just been sleeping badly. Weird dreams.”

“About what?” He sounded concerned. Almost.

Ariel paused before answering, “Harry.”

“Harry?” Damon eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Is he alright? You haven’t mentioned anything about him.”

“That’s because there isn’t anything to say. They’re just dreams, Damon.”

Apparently, he thought they were something more just as much as Ariel did.

They were sitting in the library one day, studying for their upcoming Transfiguration exam, when Damon returned from scouring the rows to drop a book onto the table in front of her. It was so dusty that the particles danced and whizzed about in the rays of moonlight filtering in through the windows.

“What is _that?”_ Ariel said, coughing and trying to wave the remaining dust out of the area in front of her face.

“A book.” Damon replied, very matter-of-factly. He slid into the seat next to her and began flipping through it. “I thought we’d do some research into your little problem.”

 _“What_ little problem?” She asked, narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

“You dreams, Potter.” He said, like it was common sense.

Ariel exhaled loudly through her nose and crossed her arms. “Who said I wanted to do _research_ into them?”

“I did.” Damon said, wiping off some of the dust. His hand went black, like he’d drawn all over it with charcoal.

“So… you got, what? A _dream journal?”_

“Does this _look_ like a dream journal to you?”

“I wouldn’t know. I don’t _keep_ one.”

“Maybe you should.” He said lightly.

Ariel gripped her quill under the table and counted backwards from ten slowly.

“A bit of _light reading_ can’t hurt, don’t you think?” Damon asked, thumping the book open. The pages were old and wrinkled, the edges outlined in gold. _“Somnium Mentis._ Just what we need.”

“It’s in _Latin?”_ She complained, making a face. “I’m horrid at reading it.”

“Lucky for you, _I_ can.” Damon grinned at her. “Perks of having a private tutor, yeah?”

Ariel scowled at him and leaned back in her chair. Severus had been the one to tutor her when she’d been younger, usually after classes or on weekends. She’d been terrible at grammar and translations and all of that. She liked maths and Potions much more.

“Oja is always a treat — they only have one book by him in this whole library, can you believe it?” Damon sounded like it was anything but. “My tutor made Draco and I read a whole book and his study of magical minds… I think it had to do with magical supremacy, if you ask me. There’s gotta be _something_ in here about your dreams.”

“It says _telepathy —_ it can’t really be _Harry,_ Damon.” Ariel said, flipping over her parchment to start writing down notes to study from later on. “This is pointless.”

“It can’t _hurt.”_

She gave him a long look. “This Oja guy… what have you read from what he’s said before?”

“I don’t remember much.” Damon shrugged. “Just that he thinks stuff like this is predetermined.”

Ariel bit her lip. “It’s… not possible… it’s just a waste of our time.”

“Sure.” He quirked an eyebrow. “But what if you really _are_ seeing him?”

Her heart fluttered. She stared at the tabletop in front of her until her vision blurred, like it did when she was asleep. When Ariel looked back up at Damon, she gave a single nod. He grinned and flipped through the chapters, mumbling to himself until he found what he was looking for.

 _“A single view of telepathy is derived from the thesis that everything, including the soul, is made up of innumerable, indivisible, minute parts that are fractions of a whole.”_ Damon began. _“These parts, if you will, constantly emit images of themselves, which in turn are composed of parts that may belong to another. It is no simple task, you see, to communicate within the confine of one’s mind with another. It is not mere Occlumency skills that must be attained.”_

“So… then, it’s _not_ like mindreading?” Ariel asked, leaning over his shoulder to skim the words herself.

“I’ve no clue.” Damon frowned. “Where’d you get _that_ from?”

“He mentioned Occlumency.” She pointed to the word _occludo_ on the page. “That’s when you close off your mind so no one can read it.”

“Ah,” He looked thoughtful. “How did you know that?”

Ariel shrugged. “Dumbledore mentioned it to me once. He can do it, I think, and so can my — _Snape.”_

“You can call him _dad,_ you know. I don’t care.”

“You’re not _supposed_ to care, because you’re not supposed to _know.”_ Ariel pointed out.

“Touché.” Damon said, blue eyes lighting up mischievously. “Shall I go on, then?”

She nodded, glossing over the rest of the words on the yellowed pages quickly as he began to read again.

_“I postulate that the images projected by living beings, when emotionally charged, could be transmitted to a dreamer, based on their emotional state of the sender, consciously or unconsciously. When the images reached their destination, it is my conclusion that they enter the body through the pull of one’s magic, their aura, like the way a flower is plucked from a stem. Images emitted by wizards in an excited state were especially vivid and likely to reach the dreamer in an intact and undistorted form based on the strength of the bond.”_

“Harry never looks excited, though.” Ariel said quietly once he’d finished. “He looks… lonely.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s limited to _just_ excitement.” Damon said, rolling his eyes a bit. Ariel swatted his arm. “I think it’s any kind of powerful emotion, really. What do you feel when you see him?”

Ariel paused and thought, closing her eyes to picture the boy. She’d gotten used to referencing him as Harry, even if it wasn’t really him at all. She’d felt… _him…_ his loneliness, something entirely different from her. But there had been a kind of acceptance in it, and yet somehow still a quiet desperation.

She shook her head at Damon and swallowed the lump in her throat. “Keep reading.”

He gave her a look, but sighed and went on. _“However, this all is not a random series of events that any wizard can embark upon. The mind is not an open road, not welcoming or ready to accept all those who are prepared tread it. I have found, in my research, that there is a fine point of imitation between the two who share this gift. It is something preexisting, something placed there by the forces that be, or created, invented, spelled. It can awakened at any point, by the whisper in the wind, or the crushing tide of emotions conjured inside one’s soul.”_

“Well,” Ariel muttered. “Whoever wrote this certainly had a flare for the dramatic.”

Damon snorted. “You can say that.” His eyes skimmed further down the page, “There’s a spell here… to, y’know, _awaken_ whatever it is he’s talking about.”

“I’ll pass.” She slammed the cover shut, making him jump. “I’ll probably end up ripping out my soul, given _my_ luck.”

“Or you could just go plain mad.” Damon smirked. “How can you pass up _that_ offer?”

“Truly tempting.” Ariel rolled her eyes. He snickered, shutting the book as Madam Pince shot them a nasty look.

As Damon got up to put the book away, Ariel found herself wondering just what the spell entailed, but pushed the thought away. They were only dreams. A manifestation of what she thought she wanted more than anything.

There couldn’t be anything in her to awaken, because there was nothing special about her in the slightest.

* * *

Severus found himself sitting at his desk and nursing a glass of Elvish wine that same evening while grading, though he had yet to mark a single essay. His daughter was weighing down on his mind like an anvil. She was currently sulking in her bedroom in their quarters, sulking. He’d found her with Bellatrix’s brat in the library earlier, and as she’d been leaving, he’d snatched her.

He had yet to conclude if this act of rebellion was in retaliation for keeping her from her brother, or if she was truly _this_ desperate for a friend. He suspected it was a hefty combination of both. Severus didn’t know how to begin trying to mend things, or if he even could. His only solace was that hopefully, Ariel would see the light once Potter started attending next year, but _that_ thought made him almost crack the glass.

It was concerning, not only for her, but for him as well. He didn’t know why he couldn’t just let her be. Perhaps it was because she was being ridiculous — like her friendship with the boy would hold anything good in her future. Granted, her arrival to Hogwarts hadn’t been what he’d been expecting. Ariel hadn’t… grown into it as quickly as Lily had. Severus saw the way the children looked at her. It made him want to kill them all.

Ariel just wouldn’t _talk_ to him. _He_ couldn’t be depended on to do such a thing, because he was supposed to be distancing himself. Putting space between them was a _good_ thing, but not if it meant Ariel would be sucked down the same hole Severus had. He didn’t want her surrounded by prepubescent Death Eaters. He’d rather _Potter —_

No, he thought, with a lip curl. _That_ was somehow _worse._

But it would keep her _safe._ At least Potter wouldn’t try and kill her… intentionally.

He recalled the first time Ariel had ever asked about Potter. She’d been six-years-old — it had been the year Severus had first let her up to the Great Hall for the Christmas Feast.

Had Severus been expecting it, which he hadn’t, he would have prepared himself. Truthfully, he _had_ been anticipating her asking in a way since the day he’d gotten her. He thought he’d have more time… that there would be some kind of sign that Ariel was going to finally pop the question, and Severus was going to finally have a reason to drink that bottle of Elvish wine Minerva had given him his first Christmas at Hogwarts — the very bottle he was drinking now.

It was out of the blue one Thursday during the break between terms. Christmas had been nearly a week ago, and Ariel had kept herself wildly entertained with the gobstones Albus had given her. Severus himself had gotten her books — he’d rather shoved a fork under his fingernails than step foot into Pilliwinkle's Playthings. He relied on the staff for toys, though he gauged that the gobstones would die out within a week and a half. It wasn’t nearly entertaining enough to keep her interested for long.

Severus had been sitting on the couch in front of her that evening with Dumbledore’s Christmas gift to him — a book on antidotes that Severus had been wanting since he’d first left Hogwarts. It was a rare edition, a far too expensive to indulge in with a child — Severus hadn’t mentioned his interest in it to the old man before. He wondered how he’d known, but then again, Dumbledore seemed to know everything. It was a fact Severus had come to reluctantly accept over the past four years.

Every once in awhile, Ariel would stumble over his feet to reassemble the set. He’d watch her, from time to time, and his chest would tighten at the expression on her face. It was a look of concentration — the same exact one Lily had worn when she’d been taking an exam.

Half an hour into it, Severus had felt a weight leaning against his legs. He’d looked over the top of his book to find Ariel climbing into his lap, a gobstone in her hand. She hadn’t seemed too concerned that she’d interrupted him, her little fingers tracing over the binding of the book as she’d settled against him.

“Yes?” He’d asked dryly. If she asked him to play with her, he was going tell the house elves to put the gobstones in Dumbledore’s soup for supper.

“Why doesn’t Harry live with us?” She’d chirped up at him, eyes imploring. They’d briefly gone to the book he had been reading, obviously momentarily distracted by the illustrations. They’d been of moonseed bushes.

Severus had taken that small pause to formulate a response that wouldn’t end with the girl in tears. He’d blinked down at her, slowly closing the book. Ariel glanced back up at him, cocking her head in puzzlement.

He hadn’t thought of the boy… _often,_ then. He was a blip in the back of his mind, a reoccurring thought — an idea, really, since he’d never met the other Potter spawn. Potter wandered in and out of his thoughts when Severus heard Ariel talking to the picture of her family late at night, when a student near would mention one of them in passing, Minerva lifting Ariel up to see the engraved plate outside of the Great Hall to tell her that she and her brother would fly like their father one day.

He hated the brat, and then, had hated the idea of him. He could say _that_ much about him, at least.

“Because he lives with your aunt.” Severus had told her, watching her carefully to gauge her reaction.

Ariel’s eyebrows had furrowed, “So then… why don’t _I_ live with _her?”_

“Because you live with me.”

“Yes, but…” She had been too young to understand when someone was avoiding a question directly, “why aren’t we _together?”_

Severus had looked away from her dark eyes, which were rapidly growing with a _Pity-Me-I-Am-Small_ look to them.

“You're not old enough to understand such things yet.” He’d ushered her off his lap and stood.

“I am _too!”_ Ariel had said, giving a childish stamp of her foot, “How old do I have to be?”

“My age.” Severus had told her snidely.

“But I’ll never be _your age._ You’ll always be older than me!”

“Than I guess you'll never find out.”

 _“Daddy,”_ He’d hated when she called him that — it was like some sort of weapon Ariel yielded, not knowing what it did to him, “I want to know!”

Severus had turned, about to seat himself behind his desk. She'd followed him, pushing one of the chairs opposite him flush against the desk so that she could kneel on her knees and be level with him once he sat down.

“Please?” Ariel begged, “I just want to know why…”

He’d sighed, massaging his temple forcefully and falling into his desk chair. Why _now?_ Couldn't the girl just play with her blasted gobstones and forget about the boy, like Severus did?

No — of course she couldn't. Ariel wouldn't be Lily’s daughter if she did. But he certainly wasn’t about to tell her that Petunia hadn’t wanted her in the first place. Even if Severus explained that Petunia made up the very worst percentage of all humanity, painted her in a light worse than the Dark Lord himself, Ariel would be crushed.

Well, if anything, this gave him more of a reason to hate Lily’s miserable sister more than anyone.

“You were both in danger.” Severus had told her quietly. Ariel leaned forward eagerly, like he'd told her they were having a second Christmas. “Professor Dumbledore wanted you both separated and under varying layers of spells. Your brother was — and still is — under the protection of blood wards.”

“Because of Voldemorph?”

“Don’t say the name.” Severus had snapped, not bothering to correct her pronunciation.

“Professor Dumbledore says to.” Ariel frowned, “He says I shouldn’t be afraid to.”

“The Headmaster says many things, Ariel,” He’d pinched the bridge of his nose, “the majority of them as maddening as he is.”

“But _he_ said —”

“I know what he’s said, Ariel!” Severus had said sharply, “In _my_ presence, you will not say the name.”

She’d shrunk away from him, her bottom lip jutting out. “Okay,” Ariel whispered, “M’sorry.”

Merlin help him — her face twisting into that unfamiliar mask of hurt made his chest tighten. Lily never would have lowered herself to look like that around him. Severus still felt like he was taking something whenever he held the girl — how fucking depressing it was to be watching Lily’s child grow — but he didn't know how else to show he wasn't trying to be cross with her. Ariel was reaching into waters that Severus would have rather kept dark and uncharted.

He reached for her, and Ariel had crawled into his lap, her little face gazing up at him questionly.

“There were people who wanted to hurt you.” Severus had said softly, his stomach rolling as her eyes widened in fear, “The blood wards at your aunts keep Potter undetectable.”

“You mean Harry?” Ariel asked.

“Yes.” Severus had stifled the urge to roll his eyes.

“Would they have kept me unde-undetec-able?”

Severus nodded, “They still would, if you were to live with them.”

“Oh.” Ariel seemed to consider this, “Do _we_ have blood wards?”

“No, we have Hogwarts.”

“Which one is better?”

He blinked, several times, in fact, “You cannot compare the two. Both are impenetrable.”

“What does impene- im—”

 _It means I’m going to read you the dictionary every night instead of those ridiculous stories,_ “It means anyone wishing to harm inside cannot get through.”

“Not even Voldemorph?”

Severus had given her a look.

“Sorry,” She’d ducked her head, “I mean… You-Know-Who?”

“The Dark Lord is gone.” Severus told her seriously, “You know this.”

Ariel had simply shrugged. Gods, children, even if they were in his care and Lily’s, could be so annoying. Instead of answering him, Ariel had leaned her head against her chest and begun to play with the buttons on his frock coat.

“Ariel,” Severus had jerked her chin upwards, “why are you asking me about this?”

“I dunno.” She’d mumbled.

“Look at me,” He’d commanded harshly, and once her eyes met his, he quirked an eyebrow down at her, “tell me what you're thinking.”

Ariel tore out from his grip, her fists gripping his robes tightly. Severus almost felt like using _Legilimens_ on her, but he’d felt his inner-Hufflepuff screeching at him that using that on a six-year-old was a terrible idea.

“I want to see Harry.” Ariel had said before he could dump her off his lap and act like he was annoyed instead of unnerved.

“That’s not possible.” Severus had told her sharply.

She’d pouted up at him, “Why _not?”_

He’d quickly racked his brain for an explanation, but found himself unable to find one that couldn’t be easily waved off. Dumbledore and he had never discussed it, because one Lily-child was enough for him at the moment — or forever, really — even if it _was_ his. Ariel was still young, too young to understand such things…

“He’s a very long way away.” He had almost feel his inner-Slytherin smirking within him, but he was only outsmarting a six-year-old, which hadn’t made him feel any better. “We can’t travel during the school year.”

“What about the summer?”

“You know I brew for Madam Pomfrey then.” Severus had given her a mocking sigh of exasperation. He’d nearly felt guilty.

Her eyebrows furrowed into an expression of calculation. He merely smirked at it, raising an eyebrow of his own, awaiting her counter attack. Ariel squirmed a bit, sliding down and off his lap. Her eyes seemed to have doubled in size — another tactic Severus wasn’t sure Ariel knew just _how_ well she wielded sometimes. They weren’t Lily’s, but the way they morphed her face made him feel like he couldn’t breathe if he stared for too long.

Severus tried to stifle the way his heart panged in time with her steps as she walked away from him. Her head bent low, hair hiding her face, Severus almost barked for her to pick up the sodding gobstones she’d left out, but found himself pinching the bridge of his nose instead.

He’d begun to remove the bottle of wine from his desk drawer —

“Do you think he misses me?” Ariel had asked suddenly.

Severus had frozen. She’d turned on her heel, hands on her hips. Her lips pursed into a tight frown, but her eyes, the most expressive part of her face, had begun to tear. From behind his shields, Severus felt something akin to guilt tap away, letting it’s claws scratch at the glass.

 _You’re a coward,_ Conscious had said. 

“I doubt he remembers you, child.” Severus had sighed, and slammed the the drawer shut, “You were both very young —”

“You can miss someone you’ve never met!” Ariel interrupted, earning herself a stern look from him. She hadn’t seemed to take notice. “I miss Mum and Dad and I never met _them.”_

_You wouldn’t miss them if I hadn’t killed them —_

Severus had slammed his shields higher.

He’d given a slight inclination of his head, leaning out of his chair, “That is… partially true. You cannot miss what you never knew you had. I’m sure Potter… wonders.”

“Oh,” Ariel said quietly, “then, I guess… I wonder about him too. A lot.” Her face shifted then, into an expression of confusion, “What about my aunt? She’s my family too, isn’t she?”

Severus had a brief mental image of Petunia seeing Ariel, her horse-like face twisting into one of revulsion. _“Freaks!”_ She’d say, spit, even, at the sight of the girl summoning a toy, _“Just like my no-good sister — freaks, the lot of them! I didn’t want you, you miserable girl —”_

“I’m sure she’s… faring.” He’d said, unable to keep the contempt out of his voice.

Ariel nodded. She’d still appeared dejected, however, and Severus simply sat there. He was shit at comforting — even if the girl was part-Lily. Ariel rarely needed it. She had been … a reasonably happy thing. Minerva had expressed her concerns over the girl being lonely, suggesting that Severus put together playdates with children the girl’s age, but the day he did _that_ was the day he put his head through a wall. Other than that, she seemed content. _Quiet_ didn’t necessarily mean _unhappy._ She’d smiled and laughed — something Severus had never done at her age, and since his childhood was the only one he could compare hers too…

“I think,” She’d looked downwards, considering, in the way that children do, “I love the idea of them. You can’t _love_ someone you’ve never met, can you? But you can miss them… because if they were here, things wouldn't be the same, right? They’re not here, and they _should_ be.”

Ariel reached for him the same time Severus stood — _he had to leave he had to change the subject anything but this —_

He’d gone a week later to check on the boy, and had nearly burned Petunia’s fucking house down when he’d found the child under the cupboard. He’d been going ever since, because while he wouldn’t take the brat, he couldn’t stand the thought of Ariel hating him for letting _this_ happen. Severus did what he could without taking Potter away permanently, no matter how much he wanted to, some visits. He’d made Petunia give the boy a proper bedroom, and that he was fed and had clothes that fucking fit. After his first visit, he’d broken one of the chairs in Dumbledore’s office — it had taken him several hours to gather the strength to face Ariel afterwards. He’d never told her, because she was his, and those years belonged to _him._

And now, like he knew he was being thought of, Potter’s fucking wards were blaring in his ears.

Severus shoved the paperwork aside, growling as he grabbed his cloak and looked to the door, and then to his daughter’s bedroom. If he left, Ariel would leave — there was nothing stopping her.

He found the boy down the street.

Severus grabbed him, eliciting a startled cry from the boy. He whirled him around so that they were facing one another, green eyes widening behind the ugliest spectacles Severus had ever seen. He wondered if Petunia had gotten them specifically because they were so hideous — probably.

“I knew it!” Potter said before Severus could lynch him. He looked… unsurprised to see him… and smug. It made Severus feel oddly vulnerable — an emotion he’d never handled well.

“Knew _what?”_ Severus snarled down at the Potter-urchin. “What the hell are you doing out here? Are you _trying_ to get kidnapped?”

“You’re _watching_ me!” He said, looking triumphant.

Severus blinked back for a moment. Potter had never questioned him about his visits before — he’d been coming for as far back as the boy could probably remember. He’d only been five when Severus had found him under the cupboard, in a shirt six sizes too big.

It was… evolving.

Realization crept over Severus like a shadow.

“You left…” He let go of the boy, “because you had a _theory_ I’d appear?”

Blush crept into Potter’s cheeks, but he kept his gaze level with Severus. “How’d you know, then? Why’d you come? You show up the same day every month… and if I’m doing something I’m not — if I’m in _trouble.”_

“That’s none of your business.” Severus said in a dangerous voice. His daughter was frolicking around the castle with a death sentence and Potter’s son felt the need to _summon him —_

“You’re _spying_ on me.” Potter shot back. “You’ve… you _always_ have. Why?”

He was used to this question by now, but it hadn’t gotten any easier to listen to. Lily’s children were… insistent things, when it came to answers they wanted.

“Have you never heard of the boy who cried wolf?” Severus snapped.

“Well, if anyone’s going to eat me, it’s probably Dudley.” Potter shoved his hands into his jean pockets. “But I don’t think you care about that. So why do you come at all?”

Severus stared down at him and tried to make him shut up and start walking back towards Petunia’s house with the force of his glare. Potter looked back up at him, and his eyes widened, but not in fear. They filled with the same kind of light Ariel’s did when she talked to the picture of her family at night.

“I come,” He said tiredly, “to… alleviate the worries someone who cares about you very much has.”

It was Potter’s turn to blink, and then, his eyes shimmered with a kind of hope that made his chest feel incredibly raw. “Who?”

_It only upset me because he was asking about Harry —_

He couldn’t do this now. It was freezing out here — the boy was wearing a fucking t-shirt.

Severus didn’t answer. He looked across the street, finding a face in the window, watching with sharp eyes, critical ones, that reminded him of Petunia’s. He sneered at it, and it was quickly replaced with a curtain instead.

“Are you my father?” The boy demanded.

Severus nearly choked. _“No.”_

Potter looked back up at him, green eyes withering. “Can you at least tell me how you knew I left?”

Severus sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. _“Fine._ I have… monitors on you, and your aunts house.”

“Like… cameras?”

“No.” Severus said flatly.

“Then how —”

He gave her a look that would have silenced even Dumbledore. Potter looked down, kicking the gravel, and nodded in surrender.

Severus walked him home, and then, he Disillusioned himself, and waited for Petunia to return.

* * *

The weather wasn’t the only thing to change as winter settled into the school. If Ariel had asked certain students, they would have sworn the source of the cold was coming from somewhere in the dungeons. She would have sworn it was coming straight from Severus himself.

It seemed the more Ariel wanted to spend time getting to know Damon and figuring out what her father was really up to visiting the Malfoys, the more her father snapped at her and found reasons to keep her within his sights. She felt increasingly cooped up these days — both in Severus’ quarters when he actually cornered her, and inside her own mind. He couldn’t do anything during the day and in-between classes, but after dinner and the weekends, he’d grab her and Ariel would spend the day moping inside her room, wanting more than anything to leave. The winter holiday had been a game of cat and mouse between them. If Ariel didn’t show up to meals, Severus couldn’t grab her, and so he’d spend his days looking for her instead. Damon and her had come up with a series of hiding spots that were so far out of the way that she was quite sure he’d never find them.

It all came to a head on an especially testing Wednesday afternoon in late November in the middle of Potions.

In return for doing more than her fair share of their classwork, Damon talked about the parts of the wizarding world her father had conveniently left out. She had already learned that Narcissa, Lucius’ wife, had apparently _not_ been a Death Eater like her husband, and that his other aunt, Andromeda, had been disowned by the family after marrying a Muggle.

As the end of the lesson approached one day, their batch of Dreamless Sleep was clearly the only successful one in the room. Deep violet and almost gaseous in texture, Ariel was sure she could have brewed this one _in_ her sleep, having watched her father brew it so often over the years for Madam Pomfrey’s stores. Happy with it, neither Damon nor Ariel noticed Severus standing quite so close behind them as they chatted quietly, below the hustle and bustle of the classroom. Ordinarily, their conversation would never have been heard beneath the din, but of course once he was focused, very little got past her father. After all, he _had_ been honing his surveillance skills for much longer than Ariel had been practicing her deception ones, apparently.

“I wish first years were allowed down to Hogsmeade already.” Damon was whining to her. “I mean, it’s not like we can get into any trouble over there — it’s not exactly Knockturn Alley, is it?”

“Knockturn Alley?” Ariel quizzed, raising an eyebrow. The words felt familiar, but she couldn’t remember why.

“Yeah, it’s off Diagon Alley,” He responded. “It’s brilliant. You can find all sorts of _interesting_ stuff —”

He was rudely cut off by hand placed firmly on the back of his neck.

 _“Mr Malfoy.”_ Came the familiar snarky drawl. Damon closed his mouth at once, and Ariel spun around in her seat just in time to see something furious flash through obsidian eyes. “You were talking, and not about your work. _Detention.”_

Although the words were directed at Damon, Severus resolutely kept Ariel’s gaze whilst delivering them. Ariel felt her blood boil at the injustice, fully aware that her father was only issuing Damon with a detention to prove a point — that _he_ was in control and that he would not back down. It had been grating on her nerves for weeks now, and this seemed to tip her emotions over the edge.

She stood up, pushing her stool back with a clatter so she was standing directly in front of Severus. Sensing things were about to kick off, Damon moved to get up, but was held firmly down by the hand still on the back of his neck, which was now squeezing in a rather threatening manner.

“Stop it!” Ariel yelled directly at Severus. “Leave him _alone!”_

The rest of the class quieted, looking over at the commotion.

 _“Leave — him — alone!_ ” Ariel hissed, eyes narrowing as she lost sense of her surroundings. Some of the other students began whispering.

Ariel was distantly aware that she was holding her breath.

Severus released his grip on Damon and brought his hand down, grabbing Ariel by the shoulder of her robes.

He pulled her close — too close — and whispered menacingly into her ear, “I suggest you choose your next words very carefully, girl, or you’ll find that you will regret it.”

He let go of her robes, and she fled the dungeon, door swinging on it’s hinge in her wake.

* * *

Several hours later, Ariel found herself alone in her bedroom within her father’s quarters. The curtains were drawn and the room was in darkness, even though the rest of the students were only just preparing for dinner.

Ariel suspected she may not be eating this evening.

She pulled her blanket closer around her shoulders as she heard her father slam his study door shut behind him.

After she had fled the classroom, Ariel ran out of the castle, and didn’t stop until she had reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Emotions preventing her from thinking clearly, she stayed there for what seemed like hours, constantly on the verge of running on and never coming back. She cursed and threw rocks at the trees, venting her anger on things that couldn’t fight back — how _dare_ he ridicule Damon for no reason like that. It was one thing for her father trying to get one over on her, she thought, but it was another thing _entirely_ when (for as far as she could fathom) he had failed to provide a _single_ good reason to keep prying her away from the only friend she seemed to have at the moment. Sure, Ariel could understand his wariness, but Damon hadn’t done anything to her…  and even if he _was,_ Severus was apparently friendly with Lucius. Surely she couldn’t be in _that_ much danger.

And now, here she was, alone in her room and feeling even more rotten than before. When she’d finally built up enough courage to come back in from her sanctuary on the rock, she inadvertently ran straight into her father, who had been waiting for her just inside the castle doors all along. His face was ashen, and his nostrils flaring. Ariel could immediately tell that her flight had scared him, as she’d been within the depths of the Forest for the past several hours without telling anyone where she had gone, and Ariel felt a twinge of triumph at this.

Her father didn’t say a word as he grabbed her robes and practically dragged her back to his rooms. Once inside, he let go of her, and simply said _“Bedroom,”_ without even turning to look at her.

The air was blue with tension, and both sides stubborn as each other.

It was going to be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: The readings from the book Damon and Ariel found can be attributed to ancient Greek philosopher Democritus. I simply added in the bits and pieces of magical theory from my own brain. :P Please review!


	9. Leave My Body

It had taken sleep several hours to find Severus that night, and even then, it seemed to abandon him just as his eyes closed, something pulling him back into consciousness, where he would let out a loud groan and sit up, wondering if he should go and check on the girl. He’d had a house elf bring her food, but he doubted she’d eaten anything in the state she was in. Severus had nearly lost his mind after Ariel had run out his class, dumbfounded and completely baffled as to why the girl continued to defend Bellatrix’s son.

Severus had been hopeful that he wouldn’t have to deal with this until the following year, when Potter number two arrived. Ariel had been a mouthy child, but she’d never been anything like _this._ Openly defying him class and then running off to Merlin knows where for hours? Severus stifled the urge to throttle her out of whatever state she was currently in.

 _Just like Potter,_ a voice whispered inside his head, but Severus waved it away with a snarl and massaged his forehead forcefully.

He wasn’t wrong — at least not this time. Severus had made a great many mistakes in his thirty years on this Earth, but his stance on Damon Malfoy was not one of them. What else could he do, save chaining her in the dungeons, taking away the freedom she finally had as a student?

 _You agreed to treat her like every other student,_ the little voice hissed again, but this time, Severus justified it. Ariel _wasn’t_ like every other child here. People like the Malfoys and Lestranges, Merlin forbid they ever escaped Azkaban, would target Ariel until she was dead. The very thought made Severus’ blood run cold, but only solidified his pre-determined stance on the brat. She couldn’t be allowed to make mistakes that would cost her too much.

“Bloody Malfoys.” Severus muttered aloud, wondering why Lucius hadn’t taught the monster a little more tact.

“Dad?” A voice called from the door, which he hadn’t realized was open.

“You’re supposed to be in bed.” Severus sneered through the darkness, massaging his forehead forcefully again. He wasn’t in the right frame of mind to be having a reconciliation. He was still far too angry, not to mention exhausted.

“I was asleep.” Ariel said hoarsely, “M-my scar… it hurts. A lot.”

His eyes snapped up to the black silhouette in the doorway. Her scar? He couldn’t recall her ever mentioning it before, except of course, when the Dark Lord was mentioned. But even then, it was in passing, simply a reminder of that horrible night. A broken body on the floor of a nursery…

A cursed scar hurting in the middle of the night definitely did not seem like it should be happening, or good by any means.

Severus flicked on the lights and narrowed his eyes at Ariel to show that he was still greatly displeased with her actions earlier, but stopped himself when he saw how badly she was trembling.

“Come here.” He beckoned her forward, trying to make himself sound gentler as Ariel shifted uncomfortably.

“M’sorry.” She already had one foot out the door, “I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s nothing…”

 _“Ariel.”_ A command was evident in his voice, though it was lost when he saw her flinch. She inched her way over, tensing when Severus kneeled down beside her and brushed back her scarlet hair to look at her scar. It looked swollen and angry.

“It’s been happening for a long time.” Ariel continued quietly as he inspected her, “It started at the very beginning of the year, but it was barely anything. But the past couple of weeks —”

“Why haven’t you said anything?” His eyebrows pulled together, quickly running a Diagnostic just in case. There was nothing, as he expected, but instead of reassuring him that nothing was truly wrong, it only added to his puzzlement. His anger over the Malfoy brat was suddenly the last thing on his mind.

“I- I didn’t think it was anything. But Dad —” Her head bowed as she toed the floor.

“How bad is the pain?” Severus asked impatiently.

“It… it doesn’t hurt as much now, but it almost felt like a bad headache. When they first started, it was this weird ache, but now they’re almost like migraines. I have these dreams, and when I wake up my scar hurts. There’s a boy, and I think it’s —”

“Your _cursed scar_ has been waking you up for _weeks_ and you never thought to tell me?” Severus asked sharply, his face inches away from hers as he looked her over. She was still shaky and clammy to his touch.

“I wasn’t sure what it was in the beginning.” Ariel whispered, a barely detectable tremor in her voice, so different from the one that had shouted at him hours earlier, “But now I know. I recognize him, recognize the eyes. I… I’ve known for a while now.”

“What in Merlin’s name are you talking about?” Severus ran a hand through her hair in an attempt to calm her, though his own nerves now had him wide awake.

“Harry.” Ariel swallowed and averted her eyes from the ones that narrowed, “It’s Harry.”

_You’re a freak like me_

She had taken him off guard — Ariel had a talent for doing that. Severus stared at her, grabbing her chin so he could hold her gaze, watching her eyes swim. There was so much longing there that it made it difficult for Severus to breathe.

“For the love of Merlin...” Severus closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to control his newly ignited temper that had sparked at the name, “Ariel —”

“It’s him, I swear it!” She cried, clinging to the fabric of his nightshirt, “I know it sounds mad but I can feel him! They’re not like regular dreams!”

“Then what _are_ they like?” He rolled his eyes, but wrapped an arm around her to steady her.

“I… I can’t describe it.” Ariel stammered, “Sometimes the dreams repeat, some nights they’re new. I see Harry… he looks like Dad, but like Mum too… I… I can’t decide. He has her eyes, that’s how I decided it’s definitely him. T-there’s a woman and a man who are always yelling at _something._ Sometimes it’s Harry, sometimes they’re just gossiping, but I don’t think they like him.”

His heartbeat began to accelerate. It wasn't specific in the slightest, but it was close enough…

_He’s as unnatural as my sister was, as your own is_

“Stop.” Severus held up a hand and raised an eyebrow. “Do you _hear_ yourself, child? What you’re proposing is impossible.”

Her face reddened as she took a deep breath, “I _know_ it’s him.”

“You’ve never met the boy, Ariel, let alone _seen_ him. Your desire to see your brother is simply projecting itself into your dreams, and if you think you can use this to get me to take you to him…”

“Aunt Petunia!” She threw at him, watching him carefully as his mouth snapped shut, “You’ve never mentioned her name before, and yet I know it from the dreams. How could I know that if they weren’t real?”

_I know what you’ve done Lily told me you ruined my sister —_

_We didn’t want the boy where else were we supposed to put him it’s unnatural a freak of nature a stain on this family_

He visibly paled, “Who told you —”

“No one, that’s my _point!”_ Ariel threw her hands up in exasperation, “He called her that tonight, after she yelled him. She yells at him for _everything_. He does accidental magic sometimes, and if they catch him, they get really angry and call him a freak and don’t give him dinner…”

_We didn't want that freak of a boy in the first place_

_He's a freak a freak of nature_

“Ariel —” Severus grabbed her arm.

“Other times this boy… h-he picks on Harry, chases him into trees and then sometimes he’s just stuck cleaning and gardening while they just sit around and act like he doesn’t exist, which isn’t fair, and I know how completely _mad_ this sounds but —”

_I didn't do anything they just hate me_

_“Ariel —”_

“Why would you believe me anyway?” Severus was alarmed to see tears forming in her eyes, his hatred for crying never really curbed after all the years of parenthood, “It’s not like you believe me when I say Damon’s nothing like his family! Why should you believe me now?”

She… was telling the truth. If Severus hadn’t seen and known the boy and those wretched Muggles all these years, he’d of thought nothing of it. But… Ariel knew too much… things she couldn’t _possibly…_

Severus shushed as he lifted her onto the bed, something off in his usually steady voice, “I’m going to speak to the Headmaster.”

Ariel blinked up at him in what he assumed was shock, “W-what?”

“Wait here.” He ordered, wrapping the covers around her and trying to organize his thoughts, “I’ll be back shortly. Don’t move, understood?”

She gave a jerky nod in response and with that, Severus grabbed his cloak and billowed towards the Floo. A pinch of powder and a grunt of words later, he stalked into the Headmaster’s office, not at all surprised to find the old man awake and writing away at his desk.

“Ah, Severus!” Dumbledore smiled warmly as he approached, “Do not take this the wrong way, my boy, but isn’t it a bit late for a nighttime rendezvous?”

“This isn’t a rendezvous!” Severus growled as he crossed his arms tightly in front of him, “I’m here because my daughter just informed me of something rather… rather _alarming.”_

The twinkle in the Headmaster’s dulled, “Has something happened? Is Ariel alright? Minerva told me what happened today in your class… did she —”

“This has nothing to do with the issues between myself and my daughter!” He snapped, _“Why_ Minerva thought it prudent to tell you that is beyond me, but the _only_ reason I am voluntarily with you at this hour is because Ariel has just told me that her scar woke her up.”

“Her… her _scar?”_ Dumbledore stood, allowing his magenta robes to be fully visible to Severus, who stopped himself from making some kind of obscene comment about them, “What happened, Severus? Tell me everything.”

“She says it’s been happening for weeks. Months, probably. I wouldn’t put it past her at this point. She told me the pain wasn’t severe at first, but then they started turning into bad headaches.” His hands curled at his sides at this, wondering why in Merlin’s name Ariel hadn’t told him sooner, and why he hadn’t known.

“Is it just the scar?” Dumbledore asked seriously, “Are there any other side effects?”

“There are.” He paused, sneering when Dumbledore raised a silvery eyebrow, as if to say _“continue, please.”_ “She says she dreams… _vividly…_ of Potter.”

Blue eyes widened, “Harry?”

“Yes, _Harry.”_ Severus said slowly, saying the name as though the brat was some kind of foul creature.

“She _sees_ him? How often?”

“Seemingly frequently.” His lip curled, “I only took it seriously when she mentioned Petunia, as _I’ve_ never mentioned her by name. She… knew things that only I would be able to disclose to her…”

A look of understanding washed over the old man’s face, then, along with a certain amount of pity. Severus hated it. He fell into the chair opposite him and rubbed his face tiredly, trying to rid his mind of the pair of black eyes in his quarters that were so wide and lost and hurt, and green… _are you my father —_

“You have been putting this off, my boy.” Dumbledore said softly. “She deserves to know the truth.”

“Which one?” Severus snapped back before he could stop himself.

“It is unbearably painful, for the soul to love silently.” He said, blue eyes so soft they could have been satin. “There is much you haven’t told her… nothing of Lily, nothing of young Harry or yourself.

Severus sneered at him and closed his eyes tightly, trying to clear his drowsy mind. He felt alert, in a sense, but the part of him he supposed was instinctive wanted to go back to his quarters and make sure the girl was alright.

He’d thought about telling her a thousand times — there had been _ten_ thousand opportunities to do so. Severus hadn’t wanted to rip the happy family on that blasted picture from her. Ariel had clung to it — it was her bright spot. He couldn’t take that from her, the knowledge of a life she had once had undisturbed and hopeful. Severus didn’t know how to sit her down and tell her that the bitter, ugly man in front of her was permanently a part of her, that he had loved her mother so much that he had gotten her killed —

Ariel was supposed to age with grace. She was supposed to age without mistakes.

There was nothing he hated more than James fucking Potter, but Severus hadn’t been able to shatter her image of him. His cruelty didn’t reach _that_ deep, when it came to Ariel — to Lily.

“Is that the wisdom your imparting to me tonight, then?” Severus asked in a heavy voice. “My daughter is seeing a boy who is an entire country away and your wisdom is to _love_ the girl… as if I could any more…”

“Wisdom is nothing more than healed pain. My advice to you, Severus, is to pull back the veil. Tell her about Harry… give her this, if nothing else.”

“She’ll want to see him.”

“It has been ten years.”

Severus wanted to break something. He’d kept the boy from Ariel because these years belonged to _him._ While yes, she’d pulled away in a fashion he hadn’t been anticipating with Bellatrix’s brat, he couldn't… not Potter… not yet…

He had to. He couldn't… deceive her like _this._

“If I tell her,” Severus said in a heavy voice, “she’ll never forgive me.”

“It will be hard for her, I imagine.” Dumbledore agreed with a sigh. “Yes, anger is to be anticipated. However, you don’t give that girl nearly enough credit.”

“No,” He muttered. “I’ve never given her a fraction of what she deserves to keep her safe.”

“She loves you despite it.”

Severus snorted.

Dumbledore sighed, his suddenly somber demeanor brightening as he resumed his seat behind the desk, “What does Ariel think of this?”

“She’s…” Severus hesitated, “She believes they’re real, but she’s frightened by them. Her scar has never bothered her before.”

“She just dreams of Harry? Nothing else?”

“No,” His worry turned to suspicion, “Why? What is it you know, Albus?”

“I must admit,” Dumbledore mused, clasping his hands together in front of him, a thoughtful expression passing over the worn face, “what you’re proposing has never been thought or explored before.”

“And just _what,_ exactly, am I proposing?” Severus eyed him.

Dumbledore paused, leaning back in his seat, “Harry shares the same mark that Ariel does. Identical, in the same spot, the same shape, the same size. I’ve always wondered if they shared something more than just a scar… and it seems that the night that Voldemort went to kill them, more was left behind than I presumed.”

“You… you think there’s a connection because of it?” Severus swallowed roughly.

“I do.”

“Then how do we stop it?”

The ends of Dumbledore’s mouth twitched upwards slightly, ice blue eyes gazing past Severus and out the window.

“I don’t know.” He said in a very soft voice, “I think that for the time being, we should let certain events… _unfold,_ if you will. I will, of course, do research on the subject, but I’ve never heard of such a phenomena between a witch and wizard before…”

Severus’ nostrils flared at this, his apprehension of the subject on the edges of panic and fear, two emotions he did not handle well at all.

“Albus,” He said in a low, dangerous voice, “if this is some bloody experiment of yours that you know might end up with her somehow getting hurt, Merlin help you —”

“I’d do nothing of the sort!” Dumbledore looked back at him, startled, “I’m simply pointing out the fact that I don’t believe there’s very much you or I can do at this time. I trust that if it continues or worsens, you’ll inform me?”

“Yes, Albus, but —”

“Very good.” He picked up his quill and began writing again, “I’ll leave you tend to her now then. I’m sure she’s looking for answers as much as your or I.”

Severus was about to argue this, until he realized that he _did_ have a frightened eleven-year-old back in his quarters, who was convinced that she was seeing her brother on a nightly basis. He shot Dumbledore one last scathing glare as he Floo’d back, missing the knowing smile the old man had given him once his back was turned.

Snarling obscenities under his breath at the situation he was in, he was almost thankful when he found Ariel curled up in his bed, fast asleep. He hadn’t been a very good mood earlier, given the day’s events, but _now,_ after talking to the old coot and his efforts fruitless, he felt like smashing through a wall. Or several, perhaps.

Quite possibly the worst part of it, besides the fact that his daughter had been dreaming of the Potter spawn for the past several weeks and awakening in pain and _not fucking telling him,_ was that Severus was just as baffled as she was. There was nothing he could to, save badgering Dumbledore until he was given _something_ useful. But, as always, Severus had the unsettling feeling that the elderly, batty Headmaster knew more than met the eye.

_He has Mum’s eyes._

Wide, dark eyes looking up at him, pleading. The face, familiar, and yet, not. But _green..._

Albus hadn’t said if these dreams were true or not, but if they were, which Severus was starting to believe, how much did she know? What had she seen?

It wasn’t time for Harry bloody Potter to come to Hogwarts and put the inevitable rift between Severus and his daughter. _His_ daughter. Not Potter’s. _His,_ no matter how livid he might be with her at the moment.

If Ariel was sick or in some kind of danger and Albus let it play out, Severus was going to set more than just his questionable wardrobe on fire.

He fell into bed beside Ariel, watching her chest rise and fall. She’d curled herself into a ball, no doubt from how cold it was, as always, as the comforting rhythm and exhaustion soon let sleep find Severus again, only this time, it stayed.

* * *

“Dad?” A rough voice shaking Severus woke him the following morning, “What did Professor Dumbledore say? Are we going to get him?”

Severus groaned, cracking open an eye to half glare at the wide-eyed face gazing down at him imploringly, “If you had been so desperate to know, you would have stayed awake until I returned last night.”

“What did he _say?”_ Ariel demanded as he sat up, rubbing his face tiredly. “Are we going today? To see him?”

“I don’t know what delusion you’re living under to believe that we’re going to _get_ him.” He gave her a stern look at her cry of outrage, “He had little to say on the matter, except that Potter is —”

“They _hate_ him!” She said shrilly, “I know I should have said something sooner, but I- I wasn’t —”

“You’re exaggerating.” Severus muttered, rising and grabbing his wand from the bedside table. The boy was _fine —_ Severus had made sure of that.

“I’m _NOT!”_

“Do not raise your voice with me, young lady!” Severus snapped, whirling around as Ariel scrambled off the bed, “You are already out of line for your little show yesterday in class —”

“You’re trying to scare away the _one_ friend I have!” Ariel fumed, small fists balling at her sides as her face reddened, “You _want_ me to be all alone! That’s why you’re not doing anything about Harry!”

“Not _doing_ anything?” Severus snarled, towering over her menacingly. “Everything I do is to keep you _safe,_ you ungrateful —”

“You _want_ to keep us apart!” She shouted. “You don’t care that Harry is miserable… I’m the only one who does! He’s all I’ve got left —”

_All I’ve got left —_

Severus saw red.

 _“ENOUGH!”_ He bellowed, and this time, Ariel actually jumped, raw hurt flashing over her face.

Severus turned away from her and steadied himself on the bedpost. His ears were ringing, but he could feel the girl’s uncertainty behind him like a guillotine ready to drop.

“Go into the other room.” Severus said in a low voice. “We need to have a little _talk.”_

He heard her leave, and took his momentary solitude to try and pull his thoughts together into something coherent. Dumbledore was right — he had to tell the girl that Potter was under his protection as much as she was, but couldn’t do it without putting that inevitable rift between them.

_You don’t give her enough credit_

Severus wanted to believe those words — wanted it so badly that he nearly broke his hand trying to curb his anger. In a world, perhaps, where Severus being a double agent was a mere option… not the difference between Lily’s children living and dying, maybe, he could keep the girl close like she once was. If her departure was going to happen, however, Severus would rather it be on his terms than Potter’s.

There… wasn’t an easier way to go about this. Severus had set himself up for this the moment his guilty conscience had propelled him back to Petunia’s house.

“Shit.” He said aloud, fighting the urge to slam his head against the bedpost. He knew that making him a father was the worst idea Albus had ever had.

When he finally emerged from his bedroom, Severus found Ariel dressed not only in her school robes, but with a brand new layer of defiance on her face.

“Sit _down.”_ He said in a dangerous voice. Ariel did so wordlessly, her face pinched together like she was trying not to cry.

Severus took a seat on the coffee table in front of her and looked into her eyes, searching for something less abrasive to steady himself on. Ariel blinked back in puzzlement, some of the resistance fading. He took this opportunity to grab her hands in his to let her know he was being serious.

“I’ve been watching your brother since you were six.” Severus told her. “I went for you and for… for… a promise I made many years. I go once a month, if I can. His relatives aren’t… _fond_ of him, but I make sure that he’s safe and healthy and being taken care of properly.”

His words didn’t seem to register with her at first. Her eyes were still a muddled, watery mess of confusion, her mouth opening and closing. And then the realization crept in like a weak fog, slowly consuming the lingering defiance and sharpness in her face that belonged to the part of him that was in her.

“Wha… what?” Ariel bleated, edging away from him. “Y-you said we _couldn’t…_ you said it wasn’t _safe…_ that you didn’t _know_ where he was —”

“I know.” Severus avoided her eyes.

“Why would you…” Ariel’s voice thickened. “Why…”

“Your aunt,” Severus held onto her wrists. _“refused_ to take the both of you. _That_ is why I have you.”

Hurt filled her eyes to the brim. They looked like a night sky without a moon.

He really fucking hated Petunia.

“R-refused?” Ariel repeated.

“Your aunt and mother… there was bitterness on Petunia’s end, because she didn’t have magic like your mother. She knew you’d _both_ have magic… combine that with your resemblance to your mother. I don’t think she could have handled it… or you… not that’s she’s handled your brother in a greater light. She threatened to ship the both of you off to an orphanage if the Headmaster forced the both of you on her, and the protection of at least _one_ of you under the Blood Wards was necessary at the time.”

Ariel’s eyes left his as she took all this in. Severus kept his hold on her, afraid of letting her go, though he couldn’t understand why. It felt… impossible to let go of her, to let her simply curl into herself. He got the impression his touch was all that was keeping Ariel from crying.

“I asked you…” She whispered, “I asked you to go so many times… and you go… once a _month.”_

“Yes.” He clasped her hands tighter — she was trying to pull away. “You did. And it wasn’t… it wasn’t safe for us to go, for a long time. That part is true, child.”

“Does… does he know about me?” Her lip was trembling.

“He knows you… exist, I imagine. I don’t believe he knows that I have you.”

“You _imagine?”_ It appeared then — that spark of anger he’d been anticipating. “You… you haven’t _told_ him?”

“It’s not my place.”

“Not your _place?”_ Ariel struggled against him, struggling to get her hands out from his grip. “He’s _my_ brother! You… you took me… and you _lied.”_

“I did what I had to do.” Severus said tonelessly, raising his shields with every word he spoke.

“You couldn’t have taken me just _once?”_ She shouted. Her face had gone red, like Lily’s had when she’d been angry — it made her hair look like a living flame.

Severus didn’t answer her. He could tell her partial truths now… not the whole thing. Not that he wanted her to know at all, the thought that he couldn’t lose her to another Potter like he’d lost Lily, that she was destined to hate him, that he’d pledged his life to protect her from the shadows, where he would rather die than see her go —

“Why are you telling me this?” Ariel demanded, soundless tears streaming down her cheeks. “What’s the point in telling me how close he is when you _still_ won’t take me there yourself?”

“You need to know how serious these visions you're experiencing are.” Severus said flatly. “You cannot keep them from me — if they happen, I need to know.”

“What makes you think I’d trust you with _anything_ after this?” She jutted out her chin at him — a challenge.

“Because I’m your father,” He said coldly, “and where you are and what you do is dictated by _me,_ especially if it pertains to your safety.”

“I’d rather have gone to an orphanage with him.” Ariel threw at him. “Then spend another _minute_ here with you!”

He couldn’t help it — Severus flinched, and hated himself for it. He’d known it was coming, known that the girl would hate him because he cared for her and wanted her, but it didn’t soften it in the slightest.

Ariel face went smooth — void of the fury still roiling behind those eyes, behind that face.

She turned without another word, and bolted out the door.

He stalked after her, throwing the door to his quarter’s open and shouting her name down the empty hall, the sounds of her retreating footsteps barely registering. He shut the door with so much force that the vials lining the walls actually rattled, and for a moment, Severus contemplated smashing all of them.

How was in that two underage boys had managed to uproot the only good in his life? And one of them wasn’t even _here_ yet.

 _Selfish…_ that small voice breathed, though just barely, _you’re selfish. She’s right..._

 _“Dammit.”_ Severus snarled, throwing it to the back of his mind as he dressed and stalked to the classroom to prepare for his class. Something heavy was hanging in his chest, but he ignored it, because that was what Severus had always done, and he did it well.

It wasn’t until later that night that he realized he might not be able to do it forever.

* * *

She was ready to explode.

It wasn't an exaggeration, really. Ariel’s chest felt like it was filling with hot lead, expanding until it could no more.

Severus couldn’t have possibly given a damn about her to do _this._ He had known better than anyone how much she’d wanted to meet her brother… and _he had_ since she was _six._ For _five years_ her father had kept them apart. He had _purposefully kept_ _them apart_ he had _met her brother_ he knew Harry she wanted to know Harry more than anything —

Ariel had never wanted to hate someone before. It was harder than people made it sound. She wondered how Severus did it so effortlessly.

She sat at the very end of the Gryffindor table for breakfast, the dry toast she’d been trying to stomach tasteless. Severus didn’t show up at all, but Ariel could’ve sworn Dumbledore was watching her… more than usual. Dumbledore was strange, though, and him acting odd was something Ariel had gotten used to over the years.

Betrayal was the only thing she could label as the thing screaming inside her skull, bouncing off the sides and skidding down her spine. It felt a whole lot like being trapped in a small space, which _had_ happened to her once, when she’d been very little. There wasn’t anything Ariel could do, save shriek at Severus until he broke, but that didn’t seem very likely. He’d acted like… it didn’t matter. That him _knowing_ and _seeing_ her brother and _not telling her_ was like a passing storm.

Did he hate her that much? He’d said… told Lucius Malfoy she was nothing _extraordinary —_

Hiding had seemed like the easiest option, at first. Ariel had almost run straight to the rock in the Forest, where she’d gone yesterday, but that wasn’t going to solve anything. Harry _needed_ her. She had to get to him somehow… finding out where he was seemed like the best place to start. Later, Ariel could worry about _getting_ there, but for now, she had the advantage over her father.

She had a _bond._

Somehow, Ariel made it through the day without saying a single word. She didn’t think she _could_ talk without bursting into more tears, or completely losing it, which she didn’t want to do. Damon seemed to sense her awful mood the second he sat down next to her in Transfiguration.

“That bad with Snape, huh?” He said from the corner of his mouth as Professor McGonagall began class.

The flash in her eyes was the only confirmation he needed. 

The pair of them didn’t speak until just before dinnertime. That was another thing about Damon — he didn’t need to be told things. He seemed to know when to stop… when things were beyond words.

She finally pulled him to the side to talk as the students were piling into the Great Hall for dinner. She’d raised a finger to her lips, motioning for them to stay quiet as they'd huddled behind a column. Only when she saw Severus billow inside, looking ready to cut someone with the sharpness in his eyes, did she speak.

“Do you remember what book that spell was in?” Ariel asked in a tense voice. “About the dreams and connecting to someone through them?”

Damon blinked. “Uh, yes?”

“Go get it.” She said, letting go of his hand. “And meet me in the third floor corridor.”

He looked incredibly confused. “What is this about?”

Ariel walked away, and thought about not answering him for a moment.

“I’m going to find my brother.” She decided on.

Parting ways for the moment, Ariel finally found herself truly alone for the first time since school had begun. Not surrounded by gossiping classmates… no Severus… no professors… no Damon. It was just her as she climbed the stairs to the third floor, stopping at one of the windows to peer out. When she’d been very little — almost too far back for her to even remember sometimes — Severus had carried her up her one Christmas so they could look at the stars. Now that Ariel looked back on it, it was probably a way of getting her to fall asleep quickly.

She sat down at the end of the hall, twisting her wand in her hands as she waited for Damon.

“Why is it so empty up here?” He said once he found her. “It’s… creepy up here. Don’t they use these rooms?”

“I heard some of the professors say that they're clearing it out for something next year.” Ariel shrugged, patting the spot beside her. “C’mon — I want to get this done before my dad decides to come looking for us.”

Damon settled down beside her. “Madam Pince wouldn't let me take the whole book, so I copied it down for you. I can't do much… I know how to translate it, but this needs to be all you.”

“Fine.” Ariel nodded. “What do I need to do?”

“Well first, I should mention that we’re going to need to get our hands dirty.”

“You mean… we have to _kill someone?”_ She gasped, horrified.

“No — Merlin, bloody hell, no!” Damon rolled his eyes. He reached into his robe pocket to reveal a letter opener, the silver shimmering in the pale moonlight. “I stopped by the dorms before I came up here too. We need it.”

Ariel blinked at him, still not understanding.

“You need to…” He hesitated. “It needs a blood offering — yours, since you’re the one bonded to Harry.”

She seized. “That’s… dark magic.”

Damon’s eyebrows furrowed. “No, it's not.”

“Yes, of _is._ Anything with blood magic… anything that requires a sacrifice… my dad said…”

“Any _powerful_ magic requires a sacrifice.” He said quietly. “That doesn't make it dark.”

“It…” Her head was spinning. “It… it _is.”_

“Fine,” Damon began to roll up the parchment. “We’ll find another way —”

“We don’t have _time.”_ Ariel said, grabbing it from him.

“But… if you don’t feel comfortable…”

“We’re _doing_ the stupid spell!” She shouted at him.

He quieted then, and looked away with an expression Ariel had never seen him wear before. A rush of guilt crashed over her.

“You aren’t asking many questions.” Ariel said quietly, trying to make her apology heard in her tone. “You can ask why we’re doing this, you know.”

Damon shrugged, unrolling the parchment a second time. “He’s your brother. You can do what you want with him. I’m just your friend, and friends help each other out, right?”

She didn’t know how to respond to that. No one had ever been her friend before. No one had ever helped her in this way. Ariel simply studied Damon as he silently mouthed over the Latin, and then met her eyes. The blue in them was like the sea after a hurricane.

“It… we need to burn a picture of him.” Damon said. “Do you have one?”

“What? No, I told you… I don't know what he even looks like —”

Ariel stopped, the only thing tucked away in her robe, beside her wand, suddenly weighing down like a brick. She slowly removed the picture of her family, the one she’d kept close all these years, and handed it to him.

He frowned, “Are you… sure you want to burn this?”

“Whatever it takes.” She whispered.

Damon laid it out between them, smoothing over the surface. “The blood needs to land on it… and then we burn it, and say the spell. It sounds simpler than he makes it out to be, really.”

“That’s it?” Ariel raised a disbelieving eyebrow, “Cut, burn, and spell?”

He gave her a long, searching look.

“So, the idea is…” Damon cleared his throat. “We do the ritual… which isn’t much of a ritual if you ask me, but anyway — after you speak the words, if there’s a true _‘bond’_ there, it should work. That’s the fault with this… it only works if there’s a real connection…”

“Well, then I guess we better not botch it.” Ariel said, taking the letter opener. Damon’s mouth snapped shut. “What’s the spell?”

He pointed down to the scroll, at the words, _corpus meum._

She nodded, holding out her palm. The hand holding the letter opener was trembling — Ariel closed her eyes and concentrated on trying to stop it, but when she opened them again it only seemed to have worsened.

“Hey,” Damon grabbed her wrist. “I’m here, okay? It… it won’t hurt that much. You can do this. Think about Harry.”

Ariel took his advice — when she closed her eyes again, she pictured the boy in her mind and felt her heart leap up to her throat. She felt Damon’s hand against her arm, warm and real, and took a deep, steadying breath.

The blade slowly slid over her skin, and she heard it drip onto the photo like raindrops. She winced.

“Now we burn it.” Damon said once Ariel opened her eyes. She didn’t dare look down at the picture.

“Do _I_ have to do it?” She asked, surprised at how hard it was for her to speak. “Or can you…?”

Damon seemed to understand why she couldn’t do _this_ part. He nodded, lifting his wand just above the stained photograph and whispered, _“Incendio.”_

She heard it ignite, and grabbed the parchment.

“I just say the words?” Ariel asked.

“That’s what it says.”

“Okay.” She inhaled deeply through her nose, and closed her eyes again. _“Corpus meum.”_

It started like a trickle, in her ears and in the ends of her fingers. The sound was like rushing water, the feeling a mild tingle, like when her foot fell asleep. It slowly got louder and louder — it sounded like the tide coming in, and then, it spread up and down her whole body. She was distantly aware that she was shaking —

The thing in her ears roared, like a lion, and she heard Damon say her name as her scar split open. Something was filling her up, filling her veins to the brim. It was hot and alive and boiling like rage, but far more rich and delicate. It was wonderfully terrible, like a heart in your hand.

Her world went white, and then, there were whispers.

* * *

She saw

_he said someone cares about me_

nothing but

_someone it's me I’m the someone_

white, and then flecks of black

_her scar hurt_

and then,

_my scar hurts_

green.

_help_

Someone was calling her name.

* * *

He’d been sitting at his desk, a day of docking points from every Gryffindor he could find fault with and assigning Filch detentions doing nothing to better his mood. Ariel had been nowhere to be found all day. He’d scoured the Great Hall for her at lunch and dinner, but her seat at the Gryffindor table remained empty. Minerva had mentioned she’d seen her in Transfiguration, which was a good sign. At least the girl wasn’t upset enough that she had pulled the stunt she had the day prior. But then Severus noticed that Damon Malfoy’s seat was also vacant at the Slytherin table, and his vision had turned red.

Severus was going to murder the boy. And soon. And _painfully. Who_ had allowed Bellatrix to reproduce?

He knew the girl would emerge eventually, as Ariel always did after they fought. Given, this had been the worst row he could remember, but she was confused and bound to come wanting answers eventually. Damon Malfoy would be of little use to her, especially regarding cursed scars and her brother.

She would have more questions. He would give her half-answers. That was his only solace — Ariel might hate him, but she _would_ come back.

When the door flew open with it’s usual dramatics, Severus stayed at his desk, waiting for Ariel to enter and jut her hip out, cross her arms, and scowl until she finally spoke. His eyes stayed glued to his parchment, a fourth year essay he’d ornamented with red ink, as heavy breathing reached his ears.

“Ariel?” A boy’s voice asked anxiously.

Severus froze. _They had better FUCKING NOT BE —_

“Sir?” Bellatrix’s brat’s eyes met his, the boy seemingly not realizing that he was in a very, _very_ dangerous situation right now, “Sir, something's wrong! She can’t see…”

Severus rose, teeth bared and nostrils flaring, until his homicidal rage landed upon the figure that stumbled into the room and crumpled to the floor.

His shields shuddered so violently that it felt like he’d been slapped.

He was by Ariel’s side in the blink of an eye, grabbing her around the middle to break the fall.

“What the _hell_ did you do, boy?” Severus demanded in a voice so venomous that the brat finally backed away, hands up in surrender.

“There’s something _wrong_ with her — she won't stop shaking…”

His chest tightened painfully as his defenses, for the first time in many years, lowered themselves.

“Dad…?” Came the rough whisper from the girl, eyes half opened and face deathly pale. Her breathing had turned to shallow pants.

The shredded thing inside his chest was trying to choke him.

“I’ve got you.” He told her, picking her up in one swift motion, nearly trampling the other brat in the process.

“Dad…”

Severus crushed her to his chest and began to sprint towards the hospital wing with more speed he thought himself capable of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! xx


	10. Smoke and Mirrors

All she was was a passenger, watching watching watching

She couldn't _move._

His eyes were green, like they were when she dreamed. He was her height, the same height, because she was short but Dad had been tall Daddy had been tall —

She reached —

It was bright — a blinding light. Didn’t they say that when you died that you saw a light?

_Harry_

_Who are you_

_I’m_

She couldn't talk or move she was just just just

 _Come back to me,_ another voice whispered, like feet walking on broken glass.

He was looking at her and she was looking at him it was real but she couldn't talk talk _talk_ she wasn't real

The light so went bright that it took them with it.

* * *

“I… I don’t understand.” Poppy was murmuring to herself as she read the Diagnostic for the third time, “A girl her age… it’s not possible…”

Severus felt his teeth set at the medi witch's ramblings. He glanced back to the infirmary doors, expecting to see Dumbledore walking through any moment now, but the doors stayed shut and Severus fought the overwhelming urge to drag the old man down here himself. Beside him, asleep in a bed, lay Ariel, who Severus had yet to fully let go of since she’d collapsed in his quarters.

“What does it say, Poppy?” He asked in a very controlled voice.

“Her magical core is drained.” She ran a hand over the girl’s forehead, “A slight fever, as well, but I believe that’s due to her body fighting to regain its strength. But to have her magic so low, at such a young age… I’ve never seen it myself before, at least, not here. She must have… what in Merlin’s name was she doing, Severus? Were you with her?”

“No,” He muttered, “she was with Malfoy.”

Both adult’s eyes turned to the lone boy standing several feet away, watching the scene before him with wide, worried eyes, all of their expressions very different.

“What happened, Mr Malfoy?” Poppy asked in a gentle, but serious, tone.

Bellatrix’s brat shifted uncomfortably, squirming under Severus’ rabid glare for the first time he could recall, his usual boldness and swagger gone. Gone was his confidence, and in place, was worry and even a bit of _fear_ in his eyes. Bellatrix had never once looked so vulnerable, and for a brief moment, Severus questioned the boy’s paternity.

 _“Mr Malfoy.”_ Severus said coldly. _“Answer_ the question.”

He hesitated, “She… there was this spell…”

His hands cracked his sides. _“What_ spell?”

The boy looked between the two of them, and then directly at Poppy, as though deciding that meeting her eyes was the safer option. “It was to find her brother. I… I have the spell here if you want to see —”

 _“Give it to me.”_ Severus snarled, grabbing the parchment out of his hand before the brat could uncurl his hand to offer it.

He unrolled the scroll to find, in handwriting he’d seen on essays handed in, what seemed to be a step by step guide to giving one permanent brain damage. It was dark magic — the lightest form of it, but enough to cause enough damage if done incorrectly. Mind magic… not a spell or inventor Severus was familiar with. Where the _fuck_ had Ariel —

“She did this?” Severus asked in a dangerous voice, his eyes lingering on the line requiring one’s blood.

From his peripheral vision, he saw the boy give a timid nod.

Severus ran a hand over Ariel’s scar and tried to steady his breathing. He’d driven her to this… this place of desperation. It wasn’t guilt rendering him incapable of thinking straight… it was something greater, something much more powerful and terrible.

He remembered when he’d first gotten Ariel, how her eyes would linger on the book shelves full of dark literature. Severus had liked to imagine her sneaking out in the middle of the night to read them when she was old enough. He’d told himself that he would scold her, but not _too_ much, but he wouldn't actually _want_ her to stop.

That day had come when Ariel had been eight, and Severus had nearly lost his mind. She’d been bent over a text on human sacrifice, the look on her face nothing like Lily’s. Not famished, like Severus, but wide-eyed and intrigued…

He’d locked them all away that very night. Severus had learned the hard way that his child could not be allowed to dabble in the dark arts — no, he owed it to Lily to keep her pure and good and whole. Her soul would stay intact.

“Did Ariel say anything else when she woke up?” Severus asked the boy sharply.

“She… she mentioned Harry. She was upset at first, but she… she kept fainting.”

Poppy was finishing looking over the parchment herself as she raised her wand back to Ariel’s temple. “Nothing unusual appeared on my readings… her intellect is intact, Severus. It sounds like the spell simply… rebounded a few times.”

“Then why isn’t she _awake?”_ Severus rumbled.

“Because she’s suffering from magical exhaustion.” Poppy said, a hint of irritation in her voice. Severus didn’t care for it. “I did mention that, did I not?”

He grabbed Ariel’s hand — it was like ice. His other hand went to her scar again, which looked red and swollen. Poppy cleared her throat and motioned to something with her eyes — when Severus turned, Bellatrix’s son was still there.

“That will be all, Mr Malfoy.” He said in a hard voice, earning himself a reproachful look from Poppy. He was going to throw Albus off the top of the Astronomy Tower when he finally got here.

The boy nodded, but did not make any move to leave. Instead, he took a small step forward, hands balled tightly at his sides. “Is she going to be alright?”

“That’s none of your concern.” Severus snapped, as though it were an automatic response.

“She’s my friend.” Malfoy replied coldly, eyes narrowing.

 _“Touching.”_ He sneered, “Now, _get out.”_

The boy straightened up and looked Severus directly in the eye, “You can hate me all you want, but I would never do anything to hurt her. I’m not my mother, or my father, or anyone else you can think of to compare me to. You should know better than anyone, since you’re a Slytherin yourself. Not all of us go bad.”

And with that, Malfoy turned on his heel and stormed out of the hospital wing, leaving Severus scowling after him, though not with same viciousness he usually did.

Before he could think of the punishment he would dish out for the disrespect, the infirmary doors swung open and two figures appeared in the doorway.

 _“YOU!”_ Severus boomed, pointing an accusatory finger at the Headmaster as he and Minerva rushed into the room.

 _“Severus Snape.”_ Minerva began to rebuke, but caught sight of Ariel and paled, “My stars, she looks like death! What in Merlin’s name…”

“I _told_ you she was not to be one of your little experiments!” He shouted, stalking forward so that he was inches away from Dumbledore’s crooked nose, “I want answers, Albus, and I want them _now!”_

“What does Albus have to do with this?” Minerva cut in.

“What do _you_ have to do with this?” Severus shot back.

“I beg your pardon?” Minerva’s eyes narrowed dangerously, looking rather catlike for a moment, “I _am_ Ariel’s Head of House! Her well being is my responsibility!”

“And I’m her _father._ And I’m ordering you, Albus, to tell me what the hell is happening!”

The old man’s face grew grave, looking past a livid and shaking Severus to glance at the medi witch. “What’s her diagnosis, Poppy?” He asked quietly.

“Magical exhaustion.” She answered, looking just as confused as Minerva at Severus’ outburst, “Her core is severely drained, though a night of bed rest and a couple of replenishing potions will have her right as rain in no time.”

“She used _this_ spell.” Severus shoved the parchment at him. “Navigating her mind without _any_ notion of direction — like throwing a first year into the Forest without a fucking _wand —”_

“Severus!” Minerva tried to reprimand, but he ignored her.

“This is old magic.” Dumbledore said as he studied it. “Simple, yet precise.”

Severus’ glare was enough to peel the paint off the walls.

 _“Albus?”_ He said in a venomous, knowing voice.

“You know as well as I, Severus, that this is a rare, perhaps even the first of it’s kind —”

“I don’t _care!”_ His nostrils flared, “I want to know what the hell is wrong with my daughter, and I want to know how to stop it! You can put your bloody theories on hold until you tell me what needs to be done!”

“What would you have me do?” Dumbledore raised a silvery eyebrow. “Ariel did this of her own accord.”

“I want this… this _connection,”_ Severus gnashed his teeth. _“Blocked.”_

“Now wait just a second!” Minerva cut in, making Severus’ blood boil, “What exactly is wrong? Has this happened before?”

The rustling of sheets and a groan caused all four of the adult’s eyes to snap over to the now moving figure in the bed. Severus swooped over, mimicking the motions of some great bat and leaned over the girl, rubbing the pad of his thumb over her cheek as black eyes fluttered open.

“Dad?” Her voice was thick, eyelids heavy, as she struggled to sit up.

“Lie down.” Severus commanded, easing her back.

“M’fine.” She mumbled, fighting against him weakly, “Where am I?”

“It matters not.” He wove a hand through her hair. “Are you in pain?”

Ariel shook her head, and leaned up on her elbows, blinking several times before she realized that the other professors were surrounding the bed.

“Professor Dumbledore?” She asked, giving Severus a confused look, “What’s going on?”

“Your visions, my dear girl.” Dumbledore gave the girl a small smile as Severus sat down beside her and wrapped an arm possessively around her.

“We don’t need to have this conversation now.” Severus shot Dumbledore a glare, but Ariel leaned forward eagerly.

“They’re real!” She insisted in a loud voice, earning herself a _“hush!”_ from him, but wide, pleading eyes shot back and forth between her father and Dumbledore. Severus sighed in defeat.

“That is a very plausible possibly.” Dumbledore said in a kind voice as he seated himself at the edge of Ariel’s bed. Severus wanted to throw the bedside table at him.

She started back at him, her face full of unanswered questions that Severus didn’t think she, or that he himself, wanted to know the answers to.

“It is to the best of my knowledge,” Dumbledore began, his voice a mere breath as Poppy busied herself into her office and Minerva watched from several feet away, “that your brother’s scar remains on his forehead, just as yours has. A reminder of the night you survived.”

“What does that —”

“Let him speak, Ariel.” Severus whispered softly, running a hand through her hair before his face turned into a sneer when he looked back at Dumbledore, “ _Continue,_ Albus.”

“It has long since that night, been a theory of mine, as it is,” Dumbledore went on, looking out the window at the remnants of the day’s light, “that when Voldemort set his wand upon one of you that night…”

“One of us?” Ariel’s eyebrows pulled together, “But I thought…”

“His intent was to kill you both, but he could not have casted a Killing Curse simultaneously on the both of you. It would have been only one of you.”

Severus’ blood ran cold. His mind filled with a vision of the little thing in Minerva’s office all those years ago, the Dark Lord’s eyes unmerciful —

“So why didn’t it work?” Ariel asked in a small voice.

“Because of your mother.” Dumbledore sighed as blue eyes looked at the child sorrowfully, “When Voldemort came to Godric’s Hollow that night, your mother offered you the ultimate protection in sacrificing her life for yours, which is why the Killing Curse rebounded and destroyed Voldemort’s body. But I’m afraid, that in doing so, it left much more than just a physical mark. There is a connection between you and your brother, through your scars. You’re not only linked through blood, but mentally as well.”

_A body, lying lifeless on the wooden floor, a look of terror etched upon her frozen face..._

“So then…” She swallowed loudly, moving closer to Severus’ body, for which he was grateful, “That’s why I see him when I go to sleep?”

“Correct.” Dumbledore nodded.

“How?” Severus demanded, “How is that possible, Albus? And how the bloody hell do we stop it? If this happens again, it could very well kill her. It’s getting out of control.”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, “Well, firstly, any theories or previous beliefs of ours should have been validated by Ariel’s… experiment.”

Her cheeks flamed red — Severus’ face darkened.

“It worked.” Ariel tried, and his grip around her tightened. “If that… helps any.”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, “You _foolish_ girl —”

“What did you see?” Dumbledore interrupted, an intense mask of calculation on his face.

Her face pinched together, like it was taking all her concentration to recall. Severus almost told her not to hurt herself, but then thought better of it. He didn’t think she’d take kindly to that considering their… rocky relationship at the moment.

“I saw Harry…” Ariel finally looked back to Dumbledore, face still deep in thought. “But I couldn’t talk… I could hear his thoughts, I think. It was just… I couldn’t see or do anything. I just heard him, and me.” 

Both Dumbledore and Severus shared a look, though his was one full of worry.

“It relates back to the theory that because your magic is still developing.” Dumbledore said quietly, “so is the bond between the both of you. It may not have been strong enough to withstand the spell itself.”

“Albus,” Severus gripped a handful of sheets in order to curb his growing agitation and impatience, “ _how —_ do — we — _stop it?”_

“That,” Dumbledore gave a small smile, “has a simpler answer.” He reached a hand towards Ariel, placing it on her knee, “You’re familiar with Occlumency, aren’t you, my dear girl?”

 _“Occlumency?”_ Both Severus and Ariel echoed back, one in disbelief, one in puzzlement.

“The art of closing your mind to outside influences.” He defined, “Your father is familiar with it, as he’s a gifted Occlumens himself.”

“Well… yes, I know that.” Ariel looked skeptical. “But… I don’t think I could ever…”

Severus mirrored her expression, “Albus, she’s far too young. It takes years for even a natural to master it, let alone —”

“I’m not speaking in the context you’re familiar with.” Dumbledore interrupted, “I wouldn’t expect anything so drastic from a child. But she _must_ learn how to close her mind off before she sleeps, so that she does not wander. If she doesn’t, I fear that these episodes will increase, and if her magical core depletes too much…”

Severus gave a short nod as his heart skipped a beat.

“So does that mean Harry sees me too?” Ariel asked, the slightest bit of hope in her voice.

“I don’t believe so.” Dumbledore looked thoughtful, “He is younger than you, his magic is still developing. I would think that as you both grow, the connection will grow as well. He hasn’t mentioned it before, has he, Severus?”

All eyes in the room were on him, including a pair that filled to the brim with fresh pain. Severus kept his gaze level with Dumbledore’s and shook his head.

“And with Occlumency…” Ariel said slowly, “it’ll stop it?”

“Yes.” Dumbledore nodded.

“I’ll stop seeing Harry?” Her voice thickened.

Minerva, who had been unusually silent, stepped forward, her face almost sorrowful as Severus watched tears well up in the girl’s eyes. There was nothing he hated more than when she cried, but he was at a loss for words when Albus nodded and Ariel’s face twisted in pain.

“I’m afraid you must.” Dumbledore studied her as Severus fought the raw hatred burning in his chest. How was it that the Potter brat had caused so much trouble, and he wasn’t even _here_ yet? How did his daughter _already_ have this… this _loyalty_ to a child she hadn’t even _met?_

“I can’t leave him… I can’t… he’s all _alone!”_ Ariel pleaded, head whipping between Severus and Dumbledore, “I see him every night… his relatives are awful to him! _Please,_ we have to go and get him!”

“I _told_ you!” Minerva stormed suddenly, throwing her hands up, “I _told_ you, Albus Dumbledore, that they were the absolute _worst_ kind of Muggles!”

“Where else would he have gone, Minerva?” Dumbledore asked tiredly, “The blood wards there protect him.”

“Well, You-Know-Who is gone.” Minerva sniffed, “Which means that Hogwarts is more than safe for Mr Potter for the time being.”

Ariel’s face lit up, so much so that Severus was quite sure he would go blind if he looked at her. Dumbledore gave him a private look, one that Severus knew had been coming.

He didn’t know how to start this.

“Minerva, Albus,” Severus ran a hand over the top of Ariel’s head and closed his eyes, “give us a moment.”

Dumbledore gave him a nod, while Minerva opened her mouth, undoubtedly to protest. Severus stood and pulled the curtains around Ariel’s bed closed before she could argue with him, and wordlessly cast a Silencing spell.

When he turned back around, he was met with a reproachful child. And then, all he could see were her knees hitting the wooden floor of their quarters and hear her panted breaths thundering in his ears.

“What were you _thinking?”_ He grabbed both sides of Ariel’s face and gave her a small shake before he could stop himself.

Ariel didn’t answer him — she looked away instead. Severus could feel his temper simmering below the surface, like a furnace rumbling to life.

“You could have turned yourself into a sodding vegetable.” He went on, trying to get her to look at him. “You could have put yourself into a coma… gotten stuck somewhere in between… for Merlin’s sake, you could have harmed the _boy.”_

“How else was I going to get answers?” Ariel snapped at him, though a look of shame passed over her face.

“By tearing your mind to shreds?” Severus growled, trying to keep his anger reigned in. “Or _worse?_ What in Merlin’s damn name were you thinking?”

She scowled at him in response.

“Ariel…” He let his hands fall back to his lap. “Child, I know you’re… _angry_ …”

“Do you?” Ariel’s eyes flashed, like sunlight bouncing off marble.

Severus swallowed his retort and composed himself. “You have every right to be upset with me. I understand your confusion, and I will answer whatever questions you have, but firstly, we need to discuss this little… _stunt.”_

Ariel gave him a withering glare — there was something oddly defeated about it. It made the panic and fury trapped inside him die down, as though his emotions were a flame easily doused. She brought her knees up to her chin, and wrapped her arms around herself.

 _“Dark_ magic.” He hissed. “I _know_ I’ve taught you better than that.”

“Damon said it wasn’t dark.” Was her automatic response. Ariel still ducked her head, like she was ashamed, though her words and tone said anything but.

“Of course the brat didn’t.” Severus growled.

Her face went very smooth — like his insult had been at _her_ instead. “He was just trying to help, since you wouldn’t. I _told_ you my dreams were real, and you made it sound like I was going mad.”

Severus massaged his forehead temple forcefully and let out an annoyed breath. “The boy isn’t the problem, Ariel. It’s his family, and what you befriending him could mean for you. Bellatrix would not take kindly to her son on friendly terms with the girl who led to the downfall of the Dark Lord.”

“He’s my only friend.” Ariel curled into herself. “I don’t care about his family — if they work for Voldemort, they’ll hate me anyway, right?”

He felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. Severus knew what it was like to be alone — he’d spent the last two years of school isolated, save the times the budding Death Eaters were successfully able to lure him out of his dorm. Could he truly blame the girl for latching onto the only company that had found her? Severus could certainly blame the _boy_ for being fucking persistent. Couldn’t Ariel see that he was only doing what he thought would protect her?

“I worry that he will do more harm than good in the long run.” Severus whispered in a hard voice, “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I trust him.” Her face peeked out at him, “I think all he wants is for people to stop assuming he’s like his mum. I’m the only one that gave him a chance.”

_Not all of us go bad._

_I don’t want to see you end up like all the other Slytherins, Sev. Don’t put any weight into what James and Sirius say. They don’t know you like I know you._

“I know.” Severus said, putting his hand back on her arm, “He… perhaps that is what the boy needs.”

Ariel’s head shot up, eyebrows hitting her hairline, “Do you really believe that?”

He gnawed at the inside of his cheek, and begrudgingly said, “In part… I can entertain the thought. _However,_ giving you dark spells that you damn well know I wouldn’t let you do in a million years doesn’t help his image in the slightest.”

“He wasn’t trying to hurt me!” Ariel argued. “It… _worked…_ kind of.”

“Your mind isn’t developed, or strong enough, for that matter, to be able to navigate whatever this madness is correctly. Whatever his intentions were, you were both still incredibly stupid.”

She winced. “But… if was for something _good —_ right? How can it be dark if I was just… I just wanted to see him…”

It was such a childish, naive answer, that if Severus had not felt a rush of fondness for the girl, he’d of sneered at her response. He had asked the same question when he’d been her age, hungry for something beyond what he’d been given. When Lily had told him that his darkness had scared her, he’d responded with the same question. Severus would used it to protect Ariel now… he had used it for something he’d blindly believed in all those years ago, but today, in this moment, he would risked his soul if dark magic meant protecting his daughter.

That didn't mean _she_ was going to be allowed anywhere near it.

“Dark magic,” Severus said in a hard voice. “is… not the act itself that destroys you. It's the addiction… the way it makes one feel when it floods your mind and soul. It’s intoxicating.”

She looked like she wanted to say something, but tore out of his hold and avoided his eyes.

“What is it?” He grabbed her chin.

“It did… feel like that.” Ariel rasped. “Good… and bad… I don't know how to explain it.”

His stomach tossed nauseatingly.

“That is the danger.” Severus said, grabbing her wrist. “The smallest push can send you toppling over the edge.”

“How would _you_ know?” She shot back.

He knew because it was his ruin. Severus had carried the thirst for it — had concealed it and silently loathed it for the sake of the girl inches away from him. Granted, he hadn’t allowed it to sink it’s claws into his mind, like it had the Dark Lord’s or Bellatrix’s, but he new the temptation. One of the first things Dumbledore had him do before he’d begun teaching was swear that he would never practice the dark arts within the school.

Severus couldn’t tell Ariel that, though.

“I’ve seen what it can do firsthand.” He said instead.

“I just wanted to see him.” Ariel’s voice broke. “You… all this time you’ve known him. Why didn’t you just _tell me?_ I… even if I still couldn’t _see him…_ we could’ve written… or something, maybe —”

She began to weep, then. Severus retracted his hand and tried not to look completely and utterly helpless. He didn’t know how to comfort her when _he_ was the cause of all her sorrow.

He saw everything in it’s entirety, in that single gutted look. Ariel was searching for something she couldn’t reach. It hadn’t mattered when she had been little, because Severus had been just enough. Now, as a student, as a growing girl who would soon no longer be simply a _child,_ Potter represented a right of passage, her way of making sense. The other cretins… they hadn’t taken to her because Ariel was waiting… because she had known, even if she didn’t know it herself, in it’s full clarity, that Potter would understand her in a way no one else did.

The boy would be like her. He _was,_ in certain ways — the little Severus had picked up on over the years. He had _denied_ her that because he didn’t want to let her go, even if he had to — he was selfish a coward he was —

“If Aunt Petunia had taken me,” She said suddenly wiping the tears from her eyes with her sleeve, “would you have come to check on the both of us?”

_Yes_

Severus didn’t know why this was a question. “I can’t answer that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t know.”

“It wouldn’t have changed much.” Ariel said, looking down at her hands. “You were still friends with Mum… and she’s part of the reason you… why I’m here with you now. I never really thought about it before… but I figured there has to be a reason you tolerate me.”

Severus frowned at the word _tolerate —_ his heartbeat tripled at _mum._ “She is… part of it, yes.”

“Is she part of why you kept us apart?” Ariel gave him a semblance of a glare — there were still tears in her eyes.

“In part, it was due mostly to your aunt.” He growled. “She’s a bitter and envious woman.”

Ariel studied him with skeptical eyes for a long moment. “So why did you make Harry stay? Why didn’t you take him away from there?”

“Where else would he have gone, Ariel?”

“Here.” She said, very matter-of-factly. “He could have stayed here — with us.”

“No, he couldn’t have.”

“Why? You took me…”

The day when he’d been given her, when something inside of him had changed and he’d sworn he’d never let go of. Whatever it is, it was shining at him in Ariel’s eyes now — _not even for me?_

He reached for her, and she pushed him away.

“Please, don’t.” Ariel croaked.

Severus curled his hand away and let her bury her face in her hands. Her grief was striking that rare and unknown place inside of him — it was making it hard to breathe, making his throat close. He couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t stand to see her so fucking miserable and have himself be the goddamn cause.

He leaned her forehead against hers, and sighed.

“As soon as you are able,” Severus said quietly. “I’ll take you.”

Her eyes snapped open, wide and disbelieving.

“Really?” Ariel whispered.

“Yes.”

 _NO,_ said Conscious.

“Really, really?” Her voice got smaller, for some reason. “You mean it? You won’t change your mind?”

“I promise.” Severus brushed the hair matted to her tear-stained cheeks from her face. “As soon as Madam Pomfrey says you’re healthy, we’ll go.”

He would never had anticipated her throwing her arms around his neck.

“Thank you.” Ariel said.

 _Don’t thank me,_ he wanted to shout, _you incomprehensible girl —_

He felt warm, the way her body was in his arms. 

But then he remembered that she would be meeting Potter, and his heart hardened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: In case you're wondering, YES, Harry finally comes in next chapter! 
> 
> Happy Thanksgiving to all of you who celebrate! 
> 
> Please, please, review! Xx


	11. Not For Nothing

“I’m thinking about trying to snag that crayon box from Dudley’s room. Think it’s worth it?”

No response.

“I think maybe I can grab it while they’re eating.”

Nothing.

Harry huffed, tapping his foot impatiently. “You’re not being very helpful.”

The robin nesting in the tree outside his window blinked back, looking mildly offended. Harry sighed when it began to flap its wings and took off, leaving him alone once more. 

Harry sat on his bed, memorizing the cracks that lined the small ceiling above him for the millionth time. He was quite sure he knew each and every one at the point, knowing where each one lead, where they began and stopped, and if they crossed paths with others. When he was younger, Harry had liked to imagine they were rivers, winding and twisting wherever the water led them. But of course, the roar of Uncle Vernon’s voice was nothing like the rush of water, nor was Aunt Petunia’s high pitched screech birds nesting in trees that may lay above them. Harry was too old for such fantasies now, anyway, but sometimes, especially if he was feeling particularly lonely, he still imagined.

His abode was humble, the paper and crayons he’d managed to snag from Dudley’s second bedroom neatly hidden under his mattress, several little figurines he’d collected throughout the years as well, some broken, some not. There was a green blanket full of holes Harry had for as far back as he could remember, his handful of clothes, and lastly, the picture of his family, hanging from the wall so that he could fall asleep looking at it every night.

The man in black had given it to him.

He’d been coming for a long time — maybe Harry’s whole life.

Harry remembered the first day he’d come like it was just yesterday. He’d been five, still living in the cupboard under the stairs, until the door had been thrust open and The Man’s hooked nose had been inches away from his. It had been in the middle of the night — Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had been asleep. For a moment, Harry had thought The Man was simply there to murder him, and how happy the Dursley’s would be when they woke up and found him dead.

“Why are you sleeping in a cupboard?” The Man had asked in a dangerous voice — like a layer of frost with something burning underneath.

“They don’t like me.” Harry had whispered back. “Where else would they keep me?”

The following morning, he had woken up to Aunt Petunia dragging him upstairs and shoving him into Dudley’s second bedroom. It had taken Harry a while to realize that it was _his_ room now, and that The Man from the night before hadn’t been some strange dream. It had taken Harry even longer to put together that The Man had made Aunt Petunia give him his own room.

He’d never expected to see The Man again, but the next time he’d come, Harry had been cleaning the attic. The Man had appeared in the doorway, staring at him with hatred that put Aunt Petunia’s very worst glare to shame. Harry had dropped an entire tea set he’d been polishing — the entire set had shattered into pieces. The stone cold glare had gone to the pieces of porcelain at Harry’s feet, his stammers and whimpers seemingly not heard.

The tea set had reassembled himself before Harry could manage an apology, or hear Aunt Petunia’s shrieks from somewhere in the house. In it’s place, where the handle of the teapot had been, was the picture of his family hanging on his wall now.

Harry had theories, since he had a lot of time to think. At first he thought The Man was just a figment of his imagination, but that was soon crossed off the list when The Man had demanded to speak with Aunt Petunia after Dudley and his gang had a successful game of Harry Hunting. She hadn’t so much as looked in his direction for a whole week — that was when they’d installed the catflap in his bedroom door. When The Man saw _that,_ Harry had finally heard words exchanged.

He’d only recently figured out that The Man was like him, and that he was somehow keeping an eye on him when he wasn’t here. Aunt Petunia never spoke of him — Harry had asked once, and she’d tried to hit him with a frying pan.

The Man had never told him his name, or where he came from, or why he came at all. He had become a constant — a familiar thing, like Christmas. He came periodically, and did exactly the same thing every time.

“Why isn’t the boy making breakfast?” Uncle Vernon’s voice grunted from downstairs, tearing Harry from his thoughts.. The walls had always been thin — it made it impossible for Harry to do anything even remotely fun.

“I’m bringing him something later after his… _episode_ yesterday.” Harry’s stomach accompanied that statement with a loud growl.

There were mutterings of an insolent brat and an orphanage. Harry simply sighed and rolled over, wondering just how he was going to make it through another Saturday locked in his room, which they did usually after he got sick to avoid infecting the rest of the family. Even chores were beginning to look appealing now. At least they made the days go by quickly and gave him something to do. But ever since The Man had come, Aunt Petunia had left Harry alone to his own devices, if he wasn’t being punished, that is. He’d gotten in a boatload of _that_ yesterday, when he’d passed out in the middle of recess. Dudley had been nearly bouncing with excitement when their teacher had to call Aunt Petunia to report the incident. His scar, which had _never_ bothered him before, had felt like it was splitting open, and then he’d heard voices…

He hadn’t told Aunt Petunia, or his teacher that, though. All the Dursley’s needed was an excuse to ship him off to an asylum.

A loud _CRACK_ echoed through Harry’s room, making him sit up, obviously startled. The neighborhood was usually silent, except maybe for the other kids on the street playing or the occasion car honking.

Or The Man —

Harry bolted to the window, pressing his nose up against the glass just in time to see _him,_ along with…

His heart skipped a beat.

There was someone _with him —_ a _kid_ someone. _That_ had never happened before. He was _always_ alone.

“The bloody hell was that?” Uncle Vernon gasped from the kitchen.

The television made a _click_ and Dudley screeched in protest as Aunt Petunia replied. “Perhaps the car? You’d better go and check, Vernon.”

_“MUUUM!”_

“I’m sorry Diddykins, just give Mummy a minute —”

And then there was another _BANG_ so loud that it drowned out the Dursley’s second round of hollers. Harry could hear the plaster crinkling off the walls as heavy footsteps stepped through what sounded like the front door. Uncle Vernon was spluttering something incoherently and Aunt Petunia let out a second scream. He could hear the silverware falling off the kitchen table.

Harry leaned his ear against the door, struggling to listen. There were footsteps banging up the stairs. Harry could feel his pulse in his ears as he skittered back to his bed.

“You stay up here.” A familiar baritone voice snapped through the pause of silence that followed the explosion, a coldness around the edges that made Harry shiver. “Do you understand?”

There was a mumble of something that sounded like _“fine.”_

Harry then heard a series of clicks, and when he looked back to the door, the lock was being undone, and the door clicked open.

It was… the strangest duo he’d ever seen. There, standing in the doorway, was The Man, sallow and ugly as ever. The lines in his face were biting, his hooked nose hidden by that curtain of greasy black hair that match his strange clothes. The girl next to him was wearing the same clothing, but seemed to be the complete opposite of him. She had long, dark red hair tied back in a braid, a flush in her cheeks — she was very pretty.

The biggest difference was that the girl was smiling at Harry, and The Man was not.

“Harry?”

It took him a moment to realize that the girl had said his name. Harry hesitated, his hands clammy — The Man had never brought anyone with him before. He’d never mentioned having kids… Harry didn’t even know his _name._ All he _did_ know was that The Man knew when Harry was in trouble, and that he was watching him, and that he didn’t like him much.

“Um,” Harry cleared his throat. “hello.”

“Hi.” The Girl whispered. She was staring at him like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time. No one had ever looked at him like that before.

Harry looked to The Man for some type of an explanation, but he was looking at The Girl, an emotion on his face Harry had never seen him wear before. It was a mixture of fondness and anger — it made Harry’s fingers tingle.

The Man cleared his throat, and placed a hand on The Girl’s shoulder. “I trust you can handle it from here.”

She didn’t look back up at him. She simply nodded, though Harry would have bet that she hadn’t really heard him. The look in her eyes was both far away and very close at the same time. The Man gave Harry one last lingering look — there was some sort of a goodbye in his eyes he didn’t understand, and stalked out of the room. His weird clothes flapped behind him, like he’d conjured a breeze.

“So,” Harry’s eyes flickered to the now uninhabited space next to The Girl. “Who was that?”

She blinked, startled by the sudden vocalization. “Haven’t you seen him before?”

“Well, yes, but… he never _talks_ about himself. He kind of… appears… takes care of whatever it is he’s here for, and leaves.”

The Girl was frowning now. “He’s never introduced himself?”

“No.” Harry squirmed uncomfortably. “I’ve tried to get him to tell me, but… he’s… er —”

“Why am I not surprised?” She muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose. Harry was quite sure he’d seen The Man do that several times.

She looked… almost distraught. Harry watched her fidget with herself, her eyes glued to the floor, like whatever she was trying to think of would float out of the floorboards. Harry half expected it to — stranger things were happening, and he didn’t know when they would stop.

Harry cleared his throat rather assertively. The Girl looked up and gave him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry… that’s my um… my dad.” She toed the floor. “Or at least, my adoptive one.”

“Oh.” Harry said, trying to connect the word _dad_ to The Man. It was like trying to call a crocodile _fuzzy._

“His name is Severus.” The Girl grinned sheepishly. “Severus Snape… if that helps any. You must be pretty confused if he hasn’t told you anything.”

“He doesn’t seem like the dad type.”

She snorted. “You have no idea.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything. The Girl just kept staring at him strangely — hungrily, maybe, or perhaps it was the same shock Harry felt hammering away in his chest.

“So… you’re an orphan?” Harry swallowed audibly.

Her eyebrows furrowed, but The Girl nodded.

“My… my parents died too.” He said. “When I was a baby.”

The Girl smiled at him again, though this time, it was sad. “I know.”

“Y-you do?” Harry’s head was spinning. “H-how?”

“Because I’m your sister.”

Something wonderful roared in his ears at her answer. It sounded like the river Harry imagined on the ceiling, but it felt like it was drowning him — like the water had slammed into his chest and knocked the breath out of him.

The Girl reminded him of his Mum and sister in the picture —

Harry’s eyes shot right to it, his eyes meeting his mother’s, and then going to the little girl in her arms who had the same eyes as the girl in the doorway. Red hair, fair skin, the same face…

Harry’s heart swelled so big that his chest felt like it was going to cave in.

“Y-you can’t be!” He stammered, mind swimming, “My sister is _dead!_ My family died in a car crash when I was a baby!”

 _“What?”_ She looked bewildered. “A _car crash?_ Aren’t those the things Muggles drive around? We don’t really have them where I live… the streets are too narrow. And well, Hogwarts isn’t exactly Muggle friendly either.”

Harry blinked a couple of times, trying to steady his breathing and wondered if The Girl was trying to make fun of him.

“They told you I was _dead?”_ Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Well, where else would she have gone?” Harry demanded. “Why wouldn’t she be here with me?”

“Petunia… didn’t want me.” Her voice went hard, like there was something lodged in the back of her throat. “She refused to take the both of us… so Dad — er — _Severus_ took me in.”

Harry wanted _so_ much to believe that this stranger could truly be who she said she was. Harry had never wanted anything so badly. But where could she have been all these years, then? Why hadn’t she been with him since the beginning? Something was off… it didn’t seem right.

Then again, it sounded just like Aunt Petunia to not want _two_ freaks. How many times a day did she say she wish Harry hadn’t been dropped on her doorstep?

If this girl was telling the _truth…_

It felt as though Harry were looking at a ghost. He reached a trembling hand towards her, not exactly in complete control of his actions, and not entirely knowing why he was doing it at all. It felt as if she were some kind of mirage that would disappear with Harry’s next breath.

Her cheeks were red, chest heaving up in down, just like his own, and eyes black as night, and full of something lighter than air. He could see similarities as he searched her face for him. They shared the same nose, the same lips and ears, and with that admission, Harry gasped aloud.

She gave him a small smile as a tear rolled down her cheek. “Hi, Harry.”

He wasn’t alone — he wasn’t _alone he wasn’t alone —_

“What’s your name?” He croaked.

The Girl brushed the stray hairs out of her face, and then wiped at her eyes frantically. “Oh, I’m sorry — I keep forgetting… I’m messing up this whole thing. I’m Ariel. Ariel Potter.”

“Ariel.” Harry repeated softly. “Aunt Petunia wouldn’t tell me your name — I only know Mum and Dad’s because they were on the back on a picture I have.”

“You have Mum’s eyes.” His sister — his _sister —_ whispered, her own eyes watering again. “But you _really_ look like Dad. Like… a lot. Wow.”

He swallowed and nodded, “You… you look like Mum. You have her hair.”

She smiled, “Everyone says that. Wait until everyone else meets you. McGonagall will have a fit…”

_“Who?”_

“She’s a professor at the — where I grew up, with Severus. He teaches there too.”

“He’s a _teacher?”_ Harry goggled.

“Yes.” She muttered. “When You-Know-Who murdered Mum and Dad… the school was the second safest place for us… besides here.”

“Wait… _what?”_ Harry’s head was spinning, “Who am I supposed to know? And what does he — Who-Know- _What?”_

It was Ariel’s turn to blink. “Do you not know any of this? Dumbledore told Aunt Petunia everything in a letter, apparently. You should know at least _something_ about who you are.” 

“Who’s Dumbledore?” Harry looked around wildly, wondering if there was anyone else with her who could help him understand what the heck was going on.

“You really don’t know.” She looked at him, marveling, “I mean… I figured they wouldn’t tell you _much…_ do you even know you’re a wizard? No… I suppose if Dad couldn’t care enough to tell you his _name,_ then he wouldn’t tell you the truth.”

“I’m a _what?”_

“You’re a wizard, Harry!” Ariel grabbed his hand. “Like I am… well, I’m a _witch…_ but you can do _magic.”_

He stared at her, “I can’t be a wizard! I’m… I’m just _Harry!”_

She grinned, “Exactly. You’re Harry Potter — the Boy Who Lived.”

He had run out of words to say. He simply stared at her, mouth agog and stunned. _Wizard? Him,_ a _wizard?_ Sure, freakish things had happened to him his whole life, but surely it couldn’t be _magic._ That kind of stuff wasn’t real. Though hadn’t Ariel _just_ said that her father — whoever _he_ really was — could do magic too? Uncle Vernon _had_ banned the word from the house… but his aunt and uncle _were_ known to keep certain truths from him…

When he didn’t answer, Ariel stopped smiling and cleared her throat awkwardly, as though she didn’t know what to do. “I would have been here a lot sooner if I could have, believe me. But my dad and Professor Dumbledore were afraid that Voldemort, he’s the evil wizard that killed Mum and Dad —”

Harry was owl-eyed at this point, “An _evil wizard?”_

“Why do you keep repeating everything I say? It’s not _so_ far-fetched —”

“Show me.” He interrupted.

She quirked an eyebrow, “Show you _Voldemort…?”_

“No. _Magic._ I want to see it. I’ve seen… um… that man do it, but…”

Ariel gave the open doorway a sideways glance before she reached into what looked like a long dress-robe or something and extracted a piece of wood, smooth and refined, from her pocket.

“What’s that?” Harry inched forward, curious.

“My wand.” She held it up proudly. “You’ll get yours at the end of August, I imagine. Can’t start school without one. _Lumos!”_ She gave it a quick flick of the wrist and a glowing light appeared at the end of her wand.

“I… don’t understand.” Harry stammered, not knowing just why he was shaking so badly, “If you’re _alive,_ then where have you _been?_ Why haven’t we ever met… why did my aunt tell me you and Mum and Dad all died in some drunk driving accident? Why didn’t your… _that man_ ever say anything?”

Ariel’s eyes narrowed as she wiped away a few stray tears. “A drunk _what?_ Like on a broom?”

“No, like a car… wait, _brooms?”_

“I don’t think they knew how to drive a _car,_ but Mum and Dad didn’t die in one, or _plastered,_ for that matter. They were murdered by Voldemort. They weren’t _drunks!”_ Ariel snarled, her glare moving to the door, “How _dare_ they! How could they have kept that from you! Of all the —”

But Harry was still reeling over the fact that his sister was _alive_ and that magic was _real,_ so he simply stared back at the Ariel as she ranted. She turned on her heel before Harry could recover and flounced out of the room. He stood there, dumbly, not even sure if he _could_ move, when he heard knocking, and then the kitchen door open.

“What are you —” The Man’s voice boomed from somewhere downstairs. “I _told you_ to stay with your _brother!”_

“They told him Mum and Dad died in a drunk Muggle accident!” His sister’s furious voiced shouted back at him.

There was a long pause. Harry could have sworn the air began to vibrate.

“What’re you doing?” Ariel’s voice said, sounding suspicious. “Are you —”

The kitchen door slammed shut again, this time, shaking the house itself. Harry heard Ariel sigh, and then her footsteps coming up the stairs.

“I hope he turns them into toads.” Ariel seethed as she reentered the bedroom.

“Can he do that?” Harry asked in a very small voice. He tried to steady his breathing for fear he may pass out.

“Worse, probably.” Ariel shrugged, still looking furious. “He wasn’t… well, he’s not in a very good mood right now, in case you couldn’t tell.”

“Is he… he’s not _hurting_ them is he?” He asked nervously, wondering if he was next.

She shrugged, “I don’t know. They deserve it if he is, I would imagine. I don’t he’s going to do any real damage, though.”

Harry stared at her, horrified.

“No… I didn’t mean it like _that.”_ She laughed awkwardly, “I think… Merlin, how do I explain this? We’ll have all the time in the world to talk once we get back to Hogwarts.”

“What’s Hogwarts?” Harry asked warily. He had no idea if a slaughtering was going on on the other side of the door. But then again… it _was_ only the Dursley’s…

“It’s a school for magic. Dad teaches Potion’s there. You’ll get an Owl on your birthday, but since you’re coming with us —”

“I _am?”_

“Of course you are!” She grinned widely and Harry’s heart seemed to burst in his chest. “Why do you think we’re here? It’s been nine years since I last saw you… besides, you’ll be starting in a few months anyway. There’s no harm in taking you with us early.”

He was going to live with his _sister —_ his _living_ sister — in a world where the freaky things he’d done for as long as he could remember were _real_ and _normal…_ he would _learn._ And perhaps this was finally Harry’s chance to have a family… to find a home with the last family he had left.

He was leaving the Dursley’s.

_He was leaving the Dursley’s._

Harry had forgotten how to breathe by the time the the sound of the kitchen door flying open cracked through the air again. Ariel scuttled to Harry’s side as the sound of boots stomping up the stairs made the house quake, and then, the hooked-nose man was standing in the doorway again. His face was as turbulent as a lightning storm, a vein pulsing furiously in his forehead as he nearly turned Harry into a scorch mark on the wall.

“I thought I told you to _stay put.”_ He snarled at Ariel. “I didn't want Petunia — Christ, girl —”

“I’m not afraid of her.” She huffed, crossing her arms.

“How very _Gryffindor_ of you.” Snape-Man said flatly. “Defiance disguised as bravery.”

“This is why you should have told him _something!”_ She pointed a finger at Harry as she fumed up at The Man — no — _Snape._ “They told him I was _dead._ He didn’t even know _I_ was around!”

“That wasn’t _my_ responsibility.” He bit back. “I came simply to ensure that they didn’t get the boy killed, or the Potter didn’t kill _himself.”_  

Harry didn’t like how they were talking about him like he wasn’t here, though it was quite different for someone to be arguing on his behalf. If his mind wasn’t racing a million miles a minute, he might have been grateful.

“You’re as bad as them!” Ariel crossed her arms defiantly. “He said you’d never told him your name… I think it’s about time you two have a proper meeting.”

Harry could have sworn that the air around them began to sizzle. Even Ariel took a step back, eyeing the man who was supposedly her father with caution. The Man looked about as thrilled at that idea as Dudley being denied a third helping of dessert.

 _“Ariel.”_ It sounded like he was chewing on nails.

“Dad, meet Harry.” She gave Snape-Man a cheeky grin. “Harry, Dad.”

Harry gave Snape a quick glance. He wasn’t even looking at him. He was glowering at Ariel — the muscles in his face were clenching, like he was trying not to scream.

“Thank you for the introduction.” Severus-Snape-Man said after a long, awkward silence. His tone said that he wasn’t very thankful at all. “Are you quite done?”

“Why’re you interrogating Aunt Petunia?” Ariel went on. “You had them all in Body Binds, didn’t you?”

“In _what?”_ Harry whispered. Snape’s eyes flashed at him, like he was some irksome fly.

His glare should have turned her into a puff of smoke. “Because your _brother_ apparently suffered the same episode you did after your little _experiment_ and she didn't think to _alert me.”_

She went as red as her hair.

Harry turned to her. “What is he talking about?”

“Uh,” Ariel looked up at the ceiling, suddenly very interesting in the molding. “Your scar wouldn't have happened to have been hurting you a few days ago, would it?”

Before Harry could bleat out how the heck she knew that, Snape-Man rolled his eyes and looked straight at him.

“Potter.” He said as something went _POP,_ making Harry and Ariel jump. “Grab whatever is yours, and do it quickly.”

Had Harry heard him correctly? Was this really happening?

 _“Potter!”_ The Man barked when he didn’t move.

He saw Ariel begin to frown out of the corner of his eye, but stumbled forward and looked about the closet he’d made his own for the past nine years. His frantically whipped his head around, searching for anything he could bring with him, soon realizing he had close to nothing. His blanket was torn and tattered, a brick for a pillow, and only two shirts and a pair of pants, which he was already wearing. Harry grabbed them quickly, before his eyes landed on the picture that he’d been falling asleep to since he was five, grabbing it quickly and wondering if wishing hard enough really did make dreams come true sometimes.

“I’m ready.” Harry announced quietly, shirts slung over his arm and picture clutched tightly his chest.

“That’s _all?”_ Ariel asked, looking horrified.

“Come then.” Snape-Man ignored her and stalked out of the room. “I don’t have all day, and I’d rather get this over with sooner rather than later.”

“Get what over with?” Harry whispered nervously to Ariel as they headed out the door.

“I have no clue.” She rolled her eyes at the dark figure descending the stairs. “He’s very dramatic, in case you couldn’t tell.”

* * *

Severus was in the foulest of moods, and _that_ was saying something, for there had been many a time when his wrath had been unleashed upon the school due to things much more serious than a ten-year-old boy.

But this wasn’t just _any_ ten-year-old dunderhead. Oh no, this was the end of days for Severus as far as he was concerned. Satan’s seed had been brought to Hogwarts, and was currently chatting amicably with his daughter, as if nothing was wrong. And as if things weren’t bad enough, Severus _himself_ had been the one to bring him here. _Voluntarily._

How long would it before the boy took Ariel from him, just as James had with Lily?

The girl was going to be the death of him. He should have said no — let the Potter-brat stay another couple of months and remain ignorant of what really went on in Petunia Evans’ home. But he wouldn’t conceal the fact that what he had seen had made his blood boil, that taking the Potter brat from the confines of that _fucking cupboard_ had made him feel better, though just barely, all those years ago. When he’d passed by Potter’s old prison, he’d caught sight of the sloppy scratchings of _“Harry’s room”_ on the wall, to the hand drawn pictures shoved under the thin mattress, and the motionless picture that hung from the low ceiling, Severus had very nearly stormed back into the kitchen and Hexed all three Dursley’s into kingdom come. He’d left them Stunned — they wouldn’t move for a day or so in the stasis he’d trapped them in. They deserved much worse, but the last thing he needed was Dumbledore or Ministry officials on his case about magical misconduct.

 _A Muggle car crash. Drunks._ Not even Potter deserved that much, Severus had to admit. But to imply that Lily had been some pansy who had little to no regard for the very children she had stared death in the eye for…

The quill he’d been holding snapped it two, earning himself another look from those heart-wrenching green eyes.

No child of Lily’s deserved to suffer, even if they did look like Saint Potter. To see _Potter’s clone_ with _her eyes_ did things to him that he thought long gone and buried deep beneath the surface. Part of him wondered if this outrageous act had happened too late.

He hadn’t said a word to the boy since they’d Apparated back to Hogwarts. Potter had vomited once they’d landed, and Severus was forced to wait impatiently as Ariel helped hold the brat up, sending him daggers as he stood by and did nothing. What had she expected him to do? Show _sympathy?_ Everyone suffered from sickness their first time Apparating — even Harry bloody Potter.

He’d brought Potter up to the Dumbledore’s office as soon as they’d passed through the threshold of the castle. The old coot had mysteriously —  and conveniently — disappeared, and so Severus had been forced to bring the boy down to his quarters, to Ariel’s delight.

The boy kept peering over at Severus from his spot on the sofa — _Severus’ sofa_ —as if he was some kind of damn phenomenon. He, of course, wasn’t going to initiate any kind of dialogue with him. Ariel arguing with him in front of the little urchin had taken the majority of his control. Severus knew he wasn’t in a good frame of mind, and even though the bulk of it had to do with the cretin, a lot of it had to do with Petunia Evans.

_That’s why you took the girl and not the boy, isn’t it?_

And then the girl had _knocked on the fuckng door._ The last thing Severus needed was for Ariel to overhear something and start putting the pieces together. He was still determined to keep the truth of his role in the war a secret, and he wasn’t about to have it uncovered, _least of all_ by the likes of Petunia.

“Dad?” Ariel’s voice broke him from his inner ponderings. “Can I show Harry the castle? Please?”

He’d lost the strength to argue for the time being. Severus simply waved her away, sighing when he saw her smile and drag her brother out of the quarters before he could warn her to be careful. Maybe Potter would fall off the Astronomy Tower if he was lucky.

Just as as buried her face in his hands in a show of stress, a flash of red bolted through the door again and stopped in front of his desk.

“Thank you.” Ariel nodded in appreciation, giving him a small smile before heading back out the door.

The boy was watching, unconcealed uncertainty on his face as he peered out at him.

 _Dammit._ Why did he have to have _her_ eyes? Of all the things, he couldn’t have been spared at least _that?_

A low chuckle made his head spin around, finding Dumbledore emerging from his Floo, “She never stops, does she?”

“Where have you _been?”_ Severus demanded, rising to meet him. “I’ve been stuck with the boy for _hours!”_

“Has Harry caused any trouble?” There was a knowing undertone in the old man’s voice and a growing twinkle in his eyes.

“Not yet.” He said under his breath.

“I didn’t catch that.”

“He’s not staying here another moment, Albus!” Severus snapped, “Find somewhere else for him, but I will _not_ take him! Do you hear me?”

Dumbledore gave him a long, almost sad, look, before seating himself on the very couch Ariel and Potter had just been sitting on, “I had no intentions of letting the boy stay with you, though I am rather surprised. I have yet to meet the boy myself… but…”

“Just get him out of here. I can’t stand to be around the brat another fucking minute.”

“Brat?” He frowned, “Severus, surely you couldn’t have formed such an opinion so quickly. You’ve known the boy…”

“He’s his father’s son.” Severus hissed, “A bloody _clone.”_

“He is Lily’s son as much as Ariel is her daughter.”

“Ariel is _mine.”_ He snarled, shooting Dumbledore a glare that would have sent a first year in hysterics.

Something flickered through the Headmaster’s ice blue eyes, and it was void of compassion and held some kind of apprehension.

“I don’t care what you do with Potter.” Severus continued in a rough voice, pinching the bridge of his hooked nose. “But he is _not_ staying here. He _can’t.”_

“What is it you fear, Severus?” Dumbledore asked, silver eyebrows furrowed together as he rose and walked towards him.

“I fear nothing.”

“That is a coward’s answer.”

“Do not call me coward!” Severus bellowed, “You judge me for hating the boy, but _you_ left him there!”

“I always knew Petunia held a certain… _contempt_ towards her sister.” Dumbledore said quietly, “but never did I fathom that she would be capable of taking out such petty emotions on a child, her _nephew_ of all people. It’s not as though the beat the boy —”

 _“No,”_ He snapped, “they only locked him in a cupboard the neglected him his entire life. _Surely_ that’s alright, as long as they didn’t lay a hand on him. The only thing stopping them was probably because they feared the boy’s magic turning on them somehow. _Stupid, idiotic Muggles_ that they are…”

“I don’t understand you, Severus.” Dumbledore shook his head, “You berate Harry for looking like James one moment, and the next, you’re furious with the environment he was raised in. You yourself did nothing, and you saw it firsthand.”

“Just because I don’t like the little monster doesn’t mean I’m _heartless._ No child, not even a bloody _Potter,_ should be treated as such. There were hundreds of good families lined up to take him, and you _had_ to choose the one that didn’t even _want_ him. A _cupboard,_ Albus. Do you forget that’s where I found him?”

Severus swallowed loudly, trying to burn to searing image of Potter with her eyes, the image that had tortured him for so long. The true testimony, the irrefutable proof that she had loved James fucking Potter, that Severus had pushed her away and into his arms. The combination that formed Harry Potter was enough to make Severus want to scream.

“He can’t stay.” He turned his back to Dumbledore, bowing onto the desk. “If I am to spy for you again… the girl is already a risk…”

“I ask it rhetorically. I know it can never be possible. Harry Potter cannot stay at Hogwarts, or under your roof.”

Severus tried to tell himself it wasn’t guilt that he making his insides twist in his gut, guilt that he had failed to keep Lily’s child from being neglected as such. He couldn’t decide if he should let his loathing of the boy win, his lifelong guilt, or his own self loathing. Or maybe it was his daughter’s own pain manifesting itself.

“He has his mother’s eyes.” Severus said in a ragged voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I have finals for the next 3 weeks, so updates may or may not happen. I’ll do what I can when I can, but please review. It’s incredibly motivating — you’ve no idea. Xx — Sam


	12. If Only For a Night

_“Lumos.”_ Ariel said softly as Harry followed her, wondering how on Earth they were going to find their way out of this never ending maze of corridors. He had no clue where they were, or how they had gotten here. Harry had been in a dreamlike daze since he first set his sights on the castle. Every once in awhile, he could hear the rush of water from within the walls. 

They’d spent the better part of the day somewhere below the castle, or at least, that’s what Harry had guessed. It wouldn’t have surprised him if Hogwarts just went on and on and on. He hadn’t had any time to process just _what exactly_ was happening, or why he’d been taken so suddenly from the Dursley’s. Why was it that after all these years, _now_ Harry was being told the truth? What had changed?

“Do you know where you’re going?” Harry asked Ariel, staying close.

“Of course I do.” She threw a smirk of her shoulder at him, “These passageways are meant to look more intimidating than they really are. No professor wants their quarters found by students, especially Dad.”

Harry could see the tall, dark man who had been shooting him daggers since he’d brought him to Hogwarts barricading his quarters all too easily.

“What his deal, anyway?” Harry fell into step with her as her wand lit the way.

“What do you mean?”

“He… he doesn’t seem to be very… er…”

“Friendly?” She guessed, “Nice… approachable? You don’t have to try and spare my feelings, Harry. I know Dad is kind of odd.”

“It’s not that he’s _odd,_ he just doesn’t seem to like me… or anything, really.” Harry hadn’t tried to speak to the man, but he’d been watching him.

Every time his eyes met Snape’s, he was reminded of a dark tunnel. They held something unfathomable and incredibly unsettling. Harry got the impression that Ariel’s _father_ didn’t like him very much —  maybe even _hated_ him. But surely that was insane — this Snape guy couldn’t hate him. He’d been coming to see him for years. He’d made the Dursley's feed him and give him his own bedroom and the picture of his family…

“He really never said anything about me to you?” Ariel asked quietly. She bent her head low, like she was putting all her concentration into walking straight.

Harry shook his head. “The only reason I knew you existed is because of the picture I had. When I asked Aunt Petunia, she said you’d died in the car crash…”

“There _wasn’t_ a car crash.”

“I know that _now.”_

A funny look passed over Ariel’s face — it was somewhere between exasperated and hurt, though Harry could see it wasn’t directed at him.

“He’s a very private person.” Ariel sighed. “Sometimes, I don’t even think I know him. But… he’s a good man, deep down. He just doesn’t let anyone get close to him… maybe that’s why he never… I don’t know…”

“What about you?” Harry raised an eyebrow, wondering why in the world his sister would be adopted by someone who was so private and reclusive — by the man who had ignored his questions for _years._

She hesitated. “We… we’re close, but I’m sure there’s things he’d rather keep to himself. I certainly see more of him that everyone else… except for maybe Professor Dumbledore.”

“He… you said he’s the Headmaster, right?”

“Yes, I’m sure he’ll be by to meet you sooner or later.” They were climbing a flight of stairs now, and Harry was relieved to see the late afternoon sun at the very top.

 _“Nox.”_ Ariel gave another wave of her wand and the tip of it went out as Harry found himself back in front of the gargantuan hall that they had passed earlier. He’d stopped to gawk at it, taking in the hundreds of floating candles before Ariel had tugged him away, assuring him there would be plenty of time to look later.

It was like breath of fresh air after a lifetime of drowning. There was a life in the air around them, tingling against his skin. For a moment, Harry wondered what it was, before he realized that he was in a _magic castle. Magic_ was surrounding him from all sides, and the understanding of that concept was breathtaking.

“What do you think?” Ariel flashed him a smile as they slowed, allowing Harry to wander into the hall this time and peer upwards, finding that the ceiling was a clear blue sky, an unknown light source emanating from somewhere above he couldn’t locate.

Harry’s jaw dropped as Ariel grabbed his hand, pulling him further into the hall, which for the most part, was empty, with the exception of a couple of students.

“What holds them up?” Harry asked in amazement. Ariel opened her mouth to reply, but Harry beat her to it. _“Magic._ Right. I keep forgetting that it’s a thing now.”

She laughed, giving his hand a squeeze, “This is where you’ll get Sorted in September. Did I mention the Houses to you yet? I don’t think I did...”

“You didn’t.” Harry glanced around, his hand still tightly holding his sister’s, realizing that there were four separate tables filling the room, “What’re they?”

“There were four Founders of Hogwarts.” Ariel explained, taking a seat at the table second to last to the right, patting the bench beside her from Harry to sit, and he sat, “Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. You get placed into a House based on your traits and personality.”

“What're the traits?” Harry leaned forward, curious.

“Well, Ravenclaws are smart — they think critically. They really like the challenge of figuring out a problem that no one else can. Hufflepuffs are probably the _nicest_ of the Houses… not that they’re all _not_ nice, but I don’t think I’ve ever met someone unpleasant from there. But they’re not pansy’s either — they’re fiercely loyal, so it’s probably best not to make one angry. Then there’s Gryffindor which is _my_ house.” Ariel smiled proudly, glancing up at a flag that had a lion embroidered on it, “We’re known for bravery, usually the heroes in stories and such. Dad says our downfall is our arrogance sometimes though… which I can see, I guess. There’s definitely a couple of toerags in our House. And then there’s Slytherin, which is Dad’s House. He’s the head of it actually. They’re ambitious really, cunning, smart in a talking your way out of a bad situation kind of way. I almost got Sorted there, y’know.”

“Why didn’t you, then?” Harry asked, looking around and wondering where he was best suited himself.

Ariel shrugged, “I told it to put me where I belonged. I guess Gryffindor was better for me than Slytherin.”

“Was your… your um… your _Dad_ disappointed?”

“He… he said that I was where I needed to be. He said he couldn’t hold that against me…” She trailed off, and Harry wondered even more about this mysterious man who had adopted his long lost sister.

“Who is he, anyway?” Harry queried, “Was he a friend of Mum and Dad’s?”

Ariel didn’t answer for a long moment.

“No, he says he didn’t know them.” Her eyes lowered themselves, as though she was in deep thought, or even trying to convince herself, “He helped fight against Voldemort during the war, and then when our parents died, Dumbledore was afraid of keeping us together. There were a lot of people who still wanted us dead… and since Voldemort disappeared when he tried to kill us, there was… there was a lot of risks. The Ministry — they’re our government — ended up rounding up the worst of them, but it still wasn’t safe, I guess. So I ended up with Severus.”

“You never explained that, you know.” Harry studied her closely, though not in scrutiny. He was still afraid the school and his sister would disappear, and he’d awaken from whatever cruel dream this was. “Who was Voldemort? Why did he kill our parents?”

Ariel’s eyes fell to the table, a sad look passing over her face. “No one really knows why.” She said softly, “I mean… he was mad from the very beginning. He had a pretty large group of followers called Death Eaters that murdered and tortured people and stuff. They wanted to enslave Muggles and Muggleborns, make sure that only those of mostly magical descent were in charge… I don’t really know the specifics, Dad never liked to talk about it. Mum and Dad fought against him, and once he decided to kill someone, there was no way to escape that. For some reason though, when he pointed his wand at us, it didn’t work. He just disappeared.”

“Just like that?” Harry raised an eyebrow, “He just _died?”_

“Well…” Ariel bit her lip, “They never found a body or anything. I’ve heard rumors that some people still think he’s still out there, and Professor Dumbledore’s also let on that he thinks there’s more to it. He’s never _said_ it, but I’m pretty sure Dad has a lot to do with that. He’s a little… _overprotective.”_

“I can tell. Is that why he so angry when he came to the Dursley’s this morning?”

Her face reddened as she allowed her ruby hair to hide her face a bit, like a curtain.

“What?” Harry nudged her, trying to lighten the mood a bit, but hungry for answers.

Ariel looked up at him, appearing a bit nervous.

“What?” He asked again, his smile fading a bit.

“Have you ever wondered about the scar on your forehead?” She asked, watching him carefully.

Harry’s hand flew up her forehead, touching it absentmindedly. “I’ve always liked it.” He admitted, “It… it was something different about me. Aunt Petunia I said I got it in the car crash —”

Ariel visibly stiffened at this.

“ — but I always thought it was something about me that no one else had. I mean, who else has a lightning bolt shaped scar?” Harry laughed a bit, but when he saw that his sister didn’t join in or even crack a smile, he stopped.

Her lips twitched, but she slowly lifted her hand to her own forehead and moved her hair away, revealing a lightning shaped scar identical to his.

Harry’s eyes tripled in size, _“H-how?”_

“It’s the only proof that Voldemort tried to kill us.” Ariel said quietly, “A mark he left behind.”

“On _both_ of us? How is that possible?”

“How did we survive that night?” She shrugged, “I don’t know. No one does… except maybe  Dumbledore.”

Harry wondered if everyone in the wizarding world was so needlessly complicated.

“Our scars are the reason we came this morning.” Ariel continued, averting her eyes to anywhere but his face, “Voldemort left more than just those behind. We’re connected through them.”

He blinked, _“Connected?_ What —”

She held up a hand, “I’m… I’m probably not the _best_ or most _qualified_ person to be telling you this, but uh… I’ve kind of been watching you for the past couple of months.”

“W...wh...what…?” Harry’s head swam, not understanding why her sister’s dark eyes almost looked fearful, “I thought you said you weren’t allowed to see me?”

“It wasn’t exactly… it was out of my control.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I.” Ariel swallowed loudly, “It wasn’t much at first, but after a while, it got clearer and clearer. I had dreams… I would see you.”

“You… would… _see me.”_ Harry repeated slowly.

“We uh… we’re connected through our scars.” She cleared her throat uneasily, “So I’ve been seeing you… through it and uh… I dream about you when I go to sleep. Except they’re… they’re not dreams — they’re visions. I wasn’t sure in the beginning, but they got stronger and there was no doubt about it after a while. I told Dad a couple of days ago, and when I mentioned how miserable you were…”

“So your dad took you because you kept seeing me when you feel asleep.” Harry said aloud, trying to process the words, but failing.

“Yes, but Harry…” He felt her hand rest of his arm and a frown in her voice as his world spun, “Harry, are you alright? You look pale…”

“Hey, you’re alive!” A brand new voice called that sounded incredibly relieved as Harry struggled to steady himself before he ruined everything, but found that it was proving more difficult than usual, “Where have you been?”

“Not _now,_ Damon!” Ariel hissed, the hand holding onto Harry tightening.

“Who’s that?” The voice sounded like it was right across from him.

“Damon, _please._ Go away!”

“What did you _do_ to him? Poor kid…” The voice named Damon began to tease, and Harry looked up to see a blue-eyed, black haired boy watching him in amusement. But it was short-lived, as once Damon’s gaze landed on Harry’s scar, his eyes tripled in size and he took a step back.

“Merlin’s balls…” The boy broke into a grin. “Is that —”

“Yes, it’s Harry freaking Potter!” Ariel snapped, “Now, will you _go away?_ In case you couldn’t tell, we were having a discussion!”

“What did you _do_ to him?” Damon snorted. “He looks terrible!”

“Damon, this _really_ isn’t the time for you to make jokes…”

“You broke the bloody Boy-Who-Lived!”

Harry had heard his sister call him that back at the Dursley’s, and even though he still didn’t know what it meant, something about the way this Damon stranger said it made Harry fly out of his seat and begin to run from the Great Hall, determined to find a place where he was away from all of this for just a brief moment. He just needed to process everything. All the information being thrown at him at once was too much, and while he’d fallen in love with the fact that he was more than just the freak under the cupboard, something pulled him from everything that was apparently always meant for Harry. He felt like he wanted to cry, and he didn’t know why.

 _“Wait,_ Harry!” Ariel called after him as he stumbled to a sharp halt.

He didn’t even know what he was running from. One moment, Hogwarts was saving him, and the next, it felt like it was suffocating him…

 _“Harry!”_ A hand grabbed his, pulling him to a quick stop. He nearly pulled her to the ground with him, but caught himself on the stone wall and squeezed his eyes shut.

Harry was grateful when she didn’t say anything at first, but could feel her eyes staring at the back of his neck.

“What did you see?” He croaked out after a long moment.

“What?” The hand fell from his.

“When you saw me when you went to sleep… what did you see?”

Harry heard Ariel struggling with her words before she sighed, “It was mostly just you wandering the neighborhood… doing chores… I purposefully triggered it the other day. Is that what Aunt Petunia… Dad mentioned that you fainted back at her house…”

“That was you?” He muttered, feeling the heat to his face.

“Yes.” She was right behind him now, “It was getting bad… stuff like that can take a toll of your magic, so I convinced my father and the Headmaster to get you.”

It still seemed too good to be true. Surely this state of dreaming would shatter, but perhaps it was for the best…

“What’s wrong, Harry?” Ariel whispered. He finally turned around to find her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but everything else clouded over in worry. “I’m sorry about Damon… if he upset you, he wasn’t being serious. He rarely takes anything as it is…”

“Who is he?”

“He’s um…” He glanced up to find her shifting awkwardly, “He’s my friend. Actually, my _only_ friend… he’s in Slytherin.”

“So he’s your best friend?”

Ariel blinked before collecting herself, “I… yeah, I guess he is. Now, will you tell me what’s wrong?”

 _Nothing_ was wrong — _that_ was the problem. Harry had realized early on that not everything Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon said was true, but then again, he hadn’t had much to go on. His parents _hadn’t_ been drunks, he _had_ a sister who _was_ alive, and he _wasn’t_ some weird kid who had freakish things happening to him almost all his life.

The Man was a father, but not his. He was _Ariel’s._

“It’s too good to be true.” Harry said plainly.

Ariel blinked right back at him, “What is?”

“This!” Harry gestured to the hallway, pausing to watch as what appeared to be a paper airplane whizzed by with impossible speed. “I mean… _that!”_ He gestured to the now long-gone airborne object.

She followed his arm, staring at the empty air for a very long time, even after Harry let his hand fall. And then a smirk spread across her face that made Harry’s chest lighten, a smile that had something in it that was so familiar that in that moment, he knew that this was real life.

Ariel held out her hand to him, cocking her head to the side as her eyes sparkled mischievously, “C’mon. I want to show you something.”

“What?” Harry asked, eyeing the invitation with caution.

“Everything.”

And she showed him everything.

They began with that very hallway and the golden plate that said _“James Potter, Chaser,”_ on it that nearly made his heart explode. His nose was pressed up to the glass, hungry to touch it or, or hell, Harry even contemplated _stealing_ it if he got that far, but then Ariel pried him away and showed him the grounds.

They were _massive,_ but she’d started with she deemed to be her favorite — the dark Forest that surrounded the castle. Ariel had said that the Forest wasn’t usually a place one might go often, (she’d mentioned it all too casually, that if Harry had not been paying attention, he may have missed it) but she apparently liked to go there to think. They stood atop a large boulder that overlooked a considerably large drop, yelling from the top of it and listening to their echoes until they were both holding their stomachs from laughing.

And then there was the lake that was apparently inhabited by a giant squid and rumored to also have merpeople, but Ariel hadn’t been so sure about the last part. There were boats they could use, and so they rowed to the very middle of the water and laid on the floor, watching the birds fly overhead. She spoke of their fame, of how many wizards and witches believed them to have some great powers that helped them defeat Voldemort. Harry had to agree with his sister when she said that she didn’t think that was the case—because although strange things had happened to him his entire life, whatever had happened the night their parents died had still left them orphans, and there was nothing very special about that at all.

But Harry’s favorite part had been the large man who lived in a hut on the edge of the grounds that had tears well up in his eyes at the sight up him, who told him that the last time he’d seen him he’d been the size of his hand. He’d known his parents, had been the first person besides his sister to validate that they were wizards just like he was, and that he had been loved.

The next part had been the castle itself, which Ariel had nearly dragged him around. They ran through the halls, laughing when Harry tried to stop, only for Ariel to pull him forward and tell him that they’d have _years_ to explore every inch of it together, but for now, he needed to see everything at once. She showed him Gryffindor Tower, where she lived during the year with her fellow housemates. Ariel had introduced him to two of her friends, Fred and George, who had nearly screamed with joy at the sight of _Harry Potter._

There were now five people who had acknowledged him as a person, and Harry thought about how on Earth he could have ever felt as if he were drowning.

The halls were never ending, and it wasn’t until Ariel stopped to catch her breath that Harry looked out of one of the windows to gaze outside and found that they hundreds, maybe even thousands of feet in the air at this point.

“Where are we?” Harry asked, the wind sifting through his hair as he leaned out.

“Near the Astronomy Tower.” Ariel’s popped out next to his, red hair whipping into his face as he held onto his glasses. “It’s the second highest point in the castle.”

“What’s the highest?”

“The Headmaster’s office.” She tugged at his hand again, “C'mon, I want to show you my other secret spot.”

“There’s _more?”_ Harry asked, half joking, and half incredulous, but followed suite and climbed the winding stairs after his sister.

Ariel led him through a small, wooden door that led to yet _another_ set of stairs, but as Harry’s head popped up over the last step, his jaw dropped for what seemed to be the umpteenth time that day.

Over the trees that littered the outskirts of the fields and hills, Harry could spy mountains, clouds at the very tops. Clouds had begun to cover the sky, blocking out the setting sun that he could just barely tell was just above the mountaintops. Harry stumbled forward, using the narrow walls around them to guide him towards the gigantic window that Ariel had already seated herself at.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” She brought her knees up to her chest as Harry sat down across from her.

“It’s…” Words failed him as a smile crept across his lips.

“Is it still too good to be true?” Ariel raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yes.” Harry replied, resting his chin on his knees, “And no.”

 _“Still?”_ She gave a mocking sigh, “Do I have to drag you around the castle _again?”_

“I’d rather just sit and watch for now, actually.” He said softly, eyes lowering themselves to the ground so far down beneath them.

And then, as they sat down and let a comfortable silence fall over them, the sunset finally cracked over the horizon. His green eyes fell upon the grounds, soaking in every detail of it. The way the mountains painted the background, how the pinks and yellows lit up the sky and reflected against the tall grass that covered the earth like a thick blanket. It was so beautiful, so otherworldly that Harry was so sure that this fantasy would shatter, and the realization of that would surely send him gasping for air in his bedroom back at the Dursley’s.

But that wouldn’t happen, because it was all very real.

“I wanted to come for you.” Ariel said as the late afternoon sun broke through the dark sky and hit their faces.

It took Harry a moment to realize what Ariel had said, turning to find her looking out at the very scene he’d just be staring at himself.

“So why didn’t you?”

“I wasn’t allowed.” He could hear a throbbing in her voice, “I wanted to… I begged Dad for years, but they always said that we couldn’t. They were afraid that if they took me, we’d somehow be followed, even though where you were was protected.” She sniffled and looked back at him, eyes watering, “But for what it’s worth, if I had a choice, I would have been with you from the beginning.”

“It’s not your fault.” Harry said quietly, but felt his heart pang painfully at this. But he took her hand in his again, the feel of her close and here and _real_ enough, and smiled at her.

Ariel wiped her eyes and returned the grin, “You know, you look just like Dad. It’s a little scary. Haven’t you ever gotten a haircut before?” She reached out to ruffle his hair and he playfully dodged it.

“Aunt Petunia attacked me with scissors every couple of months. It always grew back after a couple of hours. I’m guessing that was my accidental magic?”

“Probably.” She agreed, “Dad used to have Madam Pomfrey —  she’s our medi witch — cut my hair, and I think that happened to me a couple of times. I think my thing was setting baskets of laundry on fire.”

Harry gave a short laugh, his thoughts traveling back to the hooked nose man clothed in black that had scared that living daylights out him. It was hard to see The Man as a professor here teaching kids, let alone _raising_ one. If anything, Snape looked like he _ate_ children.

“Is Snape a good father?” Harry asked suddenly, not bothering to worry if the question was appropriate or not.

Ariel looked back at him, dark eyes flashing, “Why do you ask?”

“I’m just curious.” He shrugged, “He… he doesn’t seem the _type.”_

She snorted, “He thinks instilling fear in his students will keep them from blowing up cauldrons. I think it carried into how he comes across to everyone else.”

“So he’s not that way with you?”

“Only when he’s mad at me.”

“And when he’s not?”

“Then he’s…” Ariel paused, looking deep in thought, “He’s…”

She stopped then, eyes locked on the ground beneath her as Harry watched. His eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, and wondered why questions that any normal kid would answer automatically were giving his sister so much trouble. It had seemed as though she had a much better life than he had so far, unless she was hiding the truth from him…

“Was he like the Dursley’s?” Harry asked quietly.

Ariel’s head snapped up. “No!” She said loudly, obviously startled. “I mean… he… he’s good to me, great, even. I’ve always been happy with him, and I love him, but on his end, the message isn’t always as clear.”

“You don’t know if he loves you?”

“I… I mean I _know_ he _does.”_ She sounded as if she was convincing herself now. “He just doesn’t really ever _say_ it… come to think of it… I don’t think he’s ever…” She trailed off, swallowing audibly.

Neither of them said anything for a very long time.

“Let’s go outside.” Ariel stood, holding a hand out to him to help him up, “Just keep your head down so that we don’t attract attention. It’s dinner time, so a lot of students are bound to be out.”

Harry grabbed her hand, but for some reason, neither of them let go until they reached the landing that looked like to the entrance to the Great Hall. There was another staircase, though it veered towards the left, and Harry realized that they hadn’t gone up that way.

“What’s up there?” His green eyes tried to see past the darkness, but he could only make out the first step or so.

“Dumbledore’s office.” Ariel waved him forward, the chilly, evening March air hitting their faces as they approached the castle doors, “I’m sure you’ll see that soon enough — I didn’t take you up because I figured we’ll probably go tonight or tomorrow. I’m actually surprised he hasn’t been by to see us yet…”

They began to walk through the grass slowly, watching several students in what looked like uniforms throwing a large, heavy looking ball while carrying brooms.

Ariel watched the broom-carriers along with him, poking Harry in the ribs and gesturing to them, “Dad was a Quidditch player, you know. Maybe you’ll be one too.”

“What’s Quidditch?”

She gave him a strange look before bursting into a fit of laughter.

“What?” Harry smiled awkwardly, catching the eye of the throng of students, whose eyes furrowed in confusion at the sight of he and his sister.

Ariel shook her head and giggled, and when she looked back at him, her eyes shined with a lightness that made his own reflect the same, “I think you’re the first person to ever say that to me. It’s ironic, because Dad was a nut about the stupid game. _Everyone_ here is a bloody fanatic. I hate it — it’s _dreadfully_ boring.”

“Do you remember them?” He sank into the grass, relishing the feel and the smell of it, letting the cool, comfortable March air fill his lungs. “Mum and Dad?”

“Barely.” She sat down beside him, and they laid back simultaneously, arms side by side.

“Do you remember me?” Harry grinned crookedly at her.

“No,” Ariel’s lips twitched, “I have pictures of you zooming around on a broom, though. You knocked over a vase. You can see Daddy chasing you in the background.”

“I only have one picture of them.” He said, feeling for the folded picture he’d kept in his pocket since he’d left the Dursley’s and handed it to her.

She took it, as though cradling something precious, and opened it, a sad smile forming on her face. “It’s not magic.” Her fingers traced over it, “It must have been taken with a Muggle camera.” She flipped it over, _“‘81.’_ Must have been taken right before we went into hiding.”

“There are _magic pictures?”_

“Yeah, I have a whole bunch of them back in my room.”

Harry sat up so quickly that it was a wonder he didn’t get whiplash. _“You do?”_

“Of course I do.” She scowled. “Lemme guess — Aunt Petunia didn’t?”

“That’s the only picture I’ve ever seen of them.” Harry’s eyes gazed back to the wrinkled paper, and Ariel huffed in annoyance. “Your dad gave it to me.”

“Well, then, let’s go.” She hopped up, grinning back at Harry, “I think we’ve seen enough of Hogwarts today, don’t you think?”

He joined her, nodding in agreement, but in his mind, he knew that he could quite possibly never get enough ever again.

* * *

Ariel’s bleary eyes blinked open, a searing pain in her neck. She’d fallen asleep on Harry’s shoulder, which would explain the ache. She stretched slowly, careful not to wake her brother, and stood.

The photo albums laid strewn across the room in front of them, the largest sitting in their lap. Photo Mum and Dad were making baby Harry wave up at them, brilliant smiles on all their faces.

She had longed for as far back as she could remember for her parents to somehow return to her, but as time went on and Ariel had grown up, she realized that there was no happy reunion to be held. The only thing she could hope for was her brother, and now he was here.

Ariel grabbed the blanket from her bed and threw it over Harry, snickering a bit when his mouth opened a bit and he let out a snore. A part of her couldn’t believe Harry finally _here_. After all these years of waiting and wondering, her little brother was _here,_ fast asleep in her room.

Ariel tiptoed away softly, keeping her eyes glued on Harry, afraid that he’d disappear once she turned her back. Completely illogical, but could she blame herself? After nine years of separation, wasn’t she allowed to still have doubts?

Of course she was. Everything she’d believed to be true was a lie.

She closed her bedroom door softly, barely making a sound as she crept into her father’s living room. The lights were out, the only source of light coming from the fireplace, which was roaring and popping wildly. Still a bit drowsy, her eyes watched the flames danced, as though she were hypnotized, until she realized that her father was sitting on the couch adjacent from the fireplace.

Ariel crept over, peeking over the armchair of the couch to find him leaning forward with a glass of firewhiskey in his hand.

“You should be in bed.” Severus said in a quiet, yet stern, voice.

“We fell asleep before.” Ariel said as she stretched, hopping onto the couch next to him, “I wanted to come and talk to you.”

“Shouldn’t you be with your brother?” He said in a half-sneer that made Ariel frown.

“He’s still sleeping.” Ariel crossed her arms up at him, raising an eyebrow when he finally looked down at her, “Would you like me to go?”

He didn’t answer her, but turned his eyes back to the fire. Her father had always acted distant when he was angry or bothered, but he was acting a different kind of strange that made Ariel lose her usual defiance for when he was in a bad mood, and instead, wring her hands in her robes. She could tell he was furious about _something,_ but it was more like it was simmering below the surface, and Ariel definitely didn’t want to be around when it boiled over.

“Are you okay?” She asked, bracing herself for the probable explosion.

His chest stopped rising and falling in rhythm for a moment, before what sounded like a growl came from somewhere deep, “I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem _fine.”_

“A keen observation.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice, “And you would know, as you’ve been with me all day, correct?”

“I don’t have to be with you all day to know if something's bothering you.”

Her father didn’t answer.

“Is it something _I_ did?” Ariel asked in a small voice, suddenly afraid that she _had_ done something that had made him angry. He would usually tell her right off the bat, but _this_ kind of Severus was making her very, _very_ uncomfortable. Maybe even a bit scared. He’d been absolutely _livid_ this morning, but as soon as they’d returned to Hogwarts, he hadn’t said a word. His silence was worse than anything he could have said or done.

“Do you have a reason to believe I _should_ be disciplining you?” His obsidian eyes were searching hers, but they were missing something. His eyes were empty, a hollowness in them Ariel had gotten flashes of from time to time. Sometimes she’d see it when she mentioned her parents or the war, but they were talking about neither right now, and the look in his eyes was more than fleeting.

“You just seem like you’re upset with me about something.” Ariel said, giving him the doe eyes that had never failed when she was younger.

His own eyes widened in what looked like— was that _horror? —_ before he turned his head away.

“Dad? Seriously, what did I do? Did something happen?”

“No, Ariel.” Severus picked the glass of firewhiskey back up, swallowing the rest with a single gulp.

Ariel frowned and crossed her arms, picking apart his behavior for ammunition. “You only drink when you’re stressed.”

“Go back to _bed.”_ He snapped suddenly, head whipping back around to glare at her.

She jumped, nearly falling off the couch in the process. Tears stung at her eyes as she backed up, wondering why he was so furious with her, and why he wouldn’t tell her why. They _always_ talked if she was willing, and right now, she was certainly more than.

_He doesn’t seem to like me… or anything really._

Harry’s words echoed in her ears, and her throat tightened. Her brother had seemed baffled that Severus had adopted her, a concept Ariel had never really questioned, but as she stood there, looking at the enraged look at her father’s face, a shadow of doubt fell across her and took root somewhere strong deep inside her heart.

Had she been living some kind of delusion all this time? Maybe Severus only thought of her as a ward, the way Aunt Petunia thought of Harry. Or maybe he was just doing a job, like the countless ones Dumbledore had asked of over the years. He’d certainly hid more than Ariel had realized — the Malfoy visits being at the top of the list. As she stood there and watched Severus, she couldn’t help but wonder why he had never once told her that he loved her or cared for her, or hell, had even _wanted_ her in the first place.

Was it selfish of her to think that when Harry had been rescued from worse circumstances hours earlier? Maybe. But she had to know.

“You didn’t want to go and get Harry, did you?” Ariel asked, letting all of her hurt and confusion show on her face, “You’re mad because I made you do something you didn’t want to do.”

His face turned into his infamous impassive mask, all traces of annoyance gone. “It was my responsibility to go and get your brother. My personal opinions on the matter are irrelevant.”

“It matters to me. He’s _my_ brother.”

“That’s right.” Severus snapped, _“Your_ brother. You have been pestering me for years to see him, and now that he’s here, you are _still_ complaining.”

“I’m just asking a question.” Ariel shot back, “I think I should know if the man who raised me has a problem with the only family I have left!”

He went very, very quiet, pouring himself another drink as she readied herself for the inevitable shouting that would surely come in response to her cheek.

“Is that all I am?” His voice was so cold that Ariel could have sworn a chill passed through her. “The man who raised you?”

Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times, hating herself for letting so stupid slip like that. “I… didn’t mean it like that. You’re my family too… I just —”

“It’s different.” Severus finished flatly.

“No, it’s not! That’s not what I meant…”

“Go back to bed, Ariel.” He poured another glass of firewhiskey.

There it was again — that edge in his voice that burned. She had always hated it, hated how small and insignificant it made her feel. Severus never took her seriously because to him, Ariel wasn’t worth the time. Growing up had made her realize that. He hadn’t wanted her, and he hadn’t wanted Harry.

Ariel didn’t move, but stood there and lowered her eyes to the floor. Her vision was blurry as tears began to stain her cheeks, and in a very quiet voice, she said, “You don’t even like me, so I don’t see why it matters.”

He went still, and then, very slowly, his head turned in her direction. _“Excuse me?”_

“You’ve never told me why you took me in the first place.” Ariel set her jaw, wondering why so much seemed to have changed this year between them, and why it had taken her this long to realize something deeper was going on. “And you obviously have a problem with Harry. You haven’t spoken a single _word_ to him. So is it me too, then? Is that why you don’t want me around?”

 _“Ariel.”_ Her father had gone as still as a statue, his hand was gripping the glass a too tightly. He looked like he wanted to reprimand her, which only confused Ariel even more.

“You don’t want me me.” She squared her chin. “It was just your job to raise me, right? You… you _must_ hate me. I see the way you look at me. I guess… I’d hate me too, because I’m not what everyone was expecting. The girls in my year… they think I’m a _joke…_ and I… I don’t know how to feel anymore, about anything except for Harry.”

It shouldn’t have been possible for a man of Severus’ skin color to turn as pale as he did, or in the least, it should have stopped Ariel right then and there, but she locked her hurt eyes onto his and waited.

Her father simply looked straight back at, his face blank and void of any emotion. It was so far from the anger he’d just been displaying that Ariel wondered if she’d been _too_ blunt, but then again, Severus had never really cared to soften _his_ blows. He just continued to stare at her, mouth parted slightly as he set the drink down with far too much care than needed.

 _“Hate_ you?” Severus said in a low voice that rattled along the edges.

“Damon told me what you said to Lucius — that I’m nothing extraordinary.” Ariel said. “And maybe you’re right… but at least tell me. Don’t lie to me again.”

He didn’t seem to hear her now — his eyes were faraway. There was something oddly raw in his face, something Ariel had never seen before. It reminded her of snow melting slowly and the flowers underneath breaking through.

Ariel’s chest heaved up and down, and to keep herself from shaking, she counted her breaths, making them deep and far between. Her head felt like it was full of stars.

“You think that… I hate you.” He said. His voice sound hollow — it didn’t even sound like _Severus._

“You never wanted me, did you?” She asked in a tiny voice.

Neither of them moved for a very long time, and when Severus finally did, it surprised her.

He knelt down in front of her, something terrible in his face. Ariel couldn't tell what it was — it was so close to cruel and hateful, like the blade of a sword, and yet, there was something in her father’s expression that made her heart feel like it was going to cave into her stomach. He grabbed both sides of her face so that she was forced to look at him.

“You’re all that I am.” Severus said in a voice like winter. “You’re all that I _have.”_

Ariel simply stared back at him, stunned at his words. He’d never spoken so genuinely to her before, never once expressed if he truly _did_ care for her, or if his protectiveness was just because Dumbledore had asked him to raise the Girl-Who-Lived.

Had she really just forced her father to say that? And did she really have no idea how to respond to it?

“Okay.” Ariel swallowed and cleared her throat, nodding to herself and wondering what in Merlin’s name had come over her. “Okay, I uh…”

“Ariel…” The hand on her face became firm.

How could she have _questioned_ that? What was _wrong_ with her? _She_ hadn’t been the one to grow up with people who had despised her simply because she was _herself._ He had gone to make sure Harry was _okay_ because Ariel had… because of _her…_ oh gods —

She averted her eyes to the floor and began to pull away, mumbling an unintelligible apology that only made Severus raised his other hand to her face.

“Oh, child.” Her father murmured.

“I just…” Ariel wiped at her eyes frantically.“You… you’ve never said why or how or even that you _wanted to._ I know I’m… I’m _trying._ The stupid Hat wanted me in Slytherin… maybe I should have just _listened.”_

“You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone, you ridiculous girl.” Severus smoothed back her hair. “You’re not unwanted here, _least_ of all by myself.”

“You could have said that… maybe just once.”

Severus’ eyes flashed, like something had inside his head had taken up space and exploded.

“I want you.” He said. “I _wanted_ you, and the boy is here because I _want_ you happy and safe.”

Ariel snorted, letting out a hiccup as she continued to try and hide her tears.

“Which means,” Severus went on, stroking her matted curls away from her forehead. “that I would not have gone and gotten your brother if I was that strongly opposed. I did it because you asked, and because it was the right thing to do.”

“So then why are you so mad at me?”

“I’m not…” His head bowed, “I’m not upset with _you,_ Ariel. It’s just been a very, _very_ long day.”

“Are you sure?”

Severus looked back up at her, eyebrows raised, “Are you calling me a liar now?”

“Then why did you say those things to Lucius about me?”

He threaded a hand through her hair and sighed. “Needs dictate my words when it pertains to the Malfoy family, child.”

“So… you just pretend to hate me in front of them?”

“Yes.” Severus grimaced. “Those visits are never pleasant.”

“I feel like you’ve been pushing me away.” Ariel said quietly. “I thought maybe… it was because… that you thought what Damon said you said…”

Her father growled and pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is exactly why I don’t want you friends with the boy.”

Ariel gave him a look, and then bit her lip. “Maybe Harry and I… we can be extraordinary together, instead of ordinary apart.”

She could have sworn that she heard Severus’ heart thundering from his chest — or maybe it was her own. Being this open with her father was… a cross between cathartic, and the most terrifying thing she had ever done. And she’d performed _dark magic_ a day or so ago.

He grabbed her chin so hard that it felt like it was going to bruise. “Don’t you think for a second that your title defines you, or Potter. You are already something unforgettable — if the rest of the little cretins don’t see that, then they’re too stupid to realize it.”

Ariel leaned back into him, resting her chin on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck tightly. Her chest was so tight that she was quite sure she’d suffocate soon.

“My girl.” He whispered. “You deserve so much better than anything I could ever give you.”

“You already gave me the only thing I ever wanted.” Ariel said into his neck. His words — he _cared —_ cared enough to go and get Harry, to watch him…

To keep her.

* * *

_The only thing I ever wanted_

The boy.

She valued Potter’s fucking son over everything, the way Lily had the father. 

And Severus hand delivered her to him, complete with gift wrap and a bright red bow.

He held his daughter close, and inside of him,

_over my_

took hold

_dead_

and sunk

 _fucking_  

it's claws in deep.

_body._

* * *

Harry watched the scene from the door as though it weren’t real. It looked as though there was some kind of film between himself and the people standing in the living room, and it was then that Harry felt himself go back into the cupboard under the stairs and peek out at yet another happy family.

He slowly backed away, seating himself among the pictures of a life long lost to him, and pulled the blanket up to his chin and fought the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks.

The castle was real, his sister was real, and magic was real, but the reality was that Harry had not found his rightful place just yet, even though it was so close that he could almost taste it. But the problem was not that Harry couldn’t _find —_ it was that he couldn’t find a way to hold onto it and make it his own.

Harry had yet to actually hold a conversation with Snape, but the little spark of hope that maybe, just _maybe,_ he would be welcomed in the little family went out. They already had a life for themselves, and Harry wasn’t a factor in it. What was wrong with him that someone couldn’t love _him?_ Harry had his sister now, and while the thought nearly made his chest burst with happiness, something was still missing. Snape obviously cared a great deal for his sister, but meanwhile, he’d only spoken five words to him? What was wrong with him to be treated like he didn’t exist? He was just inches away, and Snape hadn’t so much as _looked_ at him… but he told Ariel that…

What was wrong with him? How could it be that he’d found everything, and yet lost it?

(It wasn’t _fair_ )

Harry buried his face in his arms, his throat tightening as he heard his sister quietly enter the room. He knew none of this was her fault, and had believed her when she’d said that if they’d had a choice, she’d would have been with him since the beginning, but it wasn’t like that changed anything _now._

“Are you awake?” Harry heard Ariel breath.

He tried to deepen his own, making few and far between, under heard the sound of paper shifting and someone sit down next to him, leaning against him until her own breathing began to match his.

He couldn’t stay here. He didn’t belong… at least, not yet. Perhaps it would be different when school started again in the fall… when had Ariel said he’d get his letter? His birthday? Surely he could deal with the Dursley’s for only a couple of more months. From now until September, with something to look forward to, Harry could certainly make it work. He’d done it for nine years, hadn’t he? And the Snape bloke _had_ seemed to have scared the Dursley’s pretty badly this time…

His dreams were filled with Snape laughing at him, and when Harry awoke, it was in a cold sweat.

Ariel was sprawled across the floor, a pillow tucked under her head and the sheets from her bed covering her. Harry threw the comforter she’d thrown across him before she’d gone to speak with Snape off of him, pulled on his shoes, and walk straight out of Snape’s rooms.

The dungeons were easier to navigate than Harry had originally thought. He accidently made two right turns, but they led him straight into walls, so he was able to find his way back with much difficulty. The sunrise was teasing its way through glass windows the the cracks in the castle doors, now closed. It was strangely quiet, and Harry reveled in it, feeling the magic that the school seemed to thrive on neutralize, instead of sizzle and pop in the atmosphere like it had yesterday.

“Beautiful morning, is it not?” said a voice from behind Harry, making him spin around suddenly.

It belonged to an old man with silvery-white hair that stretched down his back, both from his head and his beard. While Harry could tell the elder had seen many years, there was a youthful spryness to him he didn’t quite understand, and a mischievous twinkle in his ice-blue eyes. His robes also added to his oddness, a bright pink that too Harry several seconds to recognize as an actual shade.

“Yes, sir.” Harry agreed quietly. He looked behind him, at the staircase that Ariel had said led up to the Headmaster’s office.

“I’ve always been awake before the rest of the castle.” The man continued, moving so that he was standing in front of the door, and with the flick of a wrist, they flew open, letting the sunlight invade the space. It sparkled and shimmered, dust particles prancing as the cold morning breeze moved through the hall. “I find the early morning hours to be a good time to think.” He smiled down at Harry, “I sense you are the same.”

Harry only nodded this time, taking a hesitant step towards the staircase. He was nearly bursting with questions, and while he didn’t want to be rude, he wanted to find Professor Dumbledore before his sister or Snape woke up.

“You’re looking for the Headmaster?” The old man raised an eyebrow as Harry’s eyes flitted back and forth between him and the staircase.

“Er… yes, sir.” Harry said, “I wanted to speak with him about something important.”

“Well then, fire away.” He folded his hands in front of him, prompting Harry to continue.

He blinked, “Sir?”

“I’m all ears, Harry.” He smiled down kindly, but his eyes sparkled in a way that made Harry realize just what was happening.

“You… _you’re_ Professor Dumbledore?” Harry asked, feeling a bit embarrassed and a little irritated. Why hadn’t he just said so?

“Well, I would certainly hope so.”

“How do you know who _I_ am?” He demanded back.

“Why, your scar of course.” Dumbledore’s eyes landed on his forehead, and Harry unconsciously let his hand move over it, “And your striking resemblance to your father, James. Except for your eyes… you have your mother’s eyes.”

“That’s what Ariel said.” Harry said quietly.

He chuckled, “I’m sure she did. She’s been waiting a very long time to meet you, my dear boy.”

“Why did she have to, then?” He asked, lowering his eyes to the floor and toeing the ground, not quite sure why he felt uncomfortable about asking the questions that had been eating away at him for the past twenty-four hours.

The Headmaster’s expression softened, “There were many people who would have liked to see you dead, Harry. We could not take that risk.”

“Then why put me with the Dursley’s? They didn’t want me…”

“I never imagined your aunt would harbor such resentments toward her only nephew.” He sighed, “I believe she was quite cold to your mother when she discovered she was a witch. I didn’t think her capable of being so bitter towards a child.”

“So that’s the only reason I’m here now, then?” Harry asked, biting his lip, “Because Ariel saw and you realized?”

“I’m afraid so.” He reached a wrinkled hand towards Harry and squeezed his shoulder comfortingly, “I’m sorry, my boy. Truly, I am. If circumstances had been different, I would never have separated the both of you in the first place. But you’re here now, Harry.”

“But I can’t be.” Harry said quietly, “I don’t… I can’t stay.”

“Harry…”

He took a deep breath, “I want to go back to the Dursley’s.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ten points to whoever spots the Grey's Anatomy quote ;)
> 
> This is an early update because I want to dedicate this weekend to studying, and the majority of this chapter was already prewritten. I went as in-depth about certain subjects as I think an eleven-year-old and a ten-year-old mentally can. If you still want more details about Snape's visits, his incredible talent for lying/doing things behind Ariel's back, and how the heck Ariel exists, this is all going to be discussed in great detail. It's a slow burn, friend (in regards to Harry and Snape's relationship). 
> 
> Please review. I hoard them in my email and read them when coursework makes me cry. Until next week! Xx


	13. Land of Confusion

It was the wrong night to drink.

Severus hadn’t been able to help himself. It felt… like the proper occasion to indulge for once. With Potter’s son sleeping in the room next door, and his daughter throwing around words like _hate_ and _never wanted me,_ Severus felt like his chest had been ripped open and thrown into the fireplace. He only drank when he was stressed, and surely tonight counted as the fucking pinnacle.

Steadying himself back into his chair beside the fire, Severus downed a third glass, and then a fourth. There was an echo in his mind that he wished the alcohol to drown out. In reality, the firewhiskey just made it seem louder.

Ariel growing into an insecure young girl had been something Severus had anticipated, but had hoped would have skipped her generation. Lily had been that way — she’d hated the attention other students had given her sometimes, but had put on a bright face to appease them. She’d worried relentlessly that they’d see through it — _that’s why I have you, Sev, we can bitch to each other all we want —_

And, well, Severus’ own childhood had been a shining example of self hatred. He’d be a fool to think that just his eyes had been passed on to Ariel. Severus hadn’t exactly showered the girl with compliments and beaming smiles and embraces, but he had liked to think she’d known…

He was such a fucking idiot. She’d thought that… he felt something less than adoration for her. Severus didn’t know how to convey it to her any way other than letting her do with him as she pleased now that she was a student. He didn’t know, because he didn’t deserve her. Ariel had the world at her fingertips, like the boy did, and yet, she’d sought out _his_ approval.

He remembered the beginning — when Dumbledore had given him that first year to get settled with the child and keep her out of the public eye. It had taken him hours to baby-proof the house, _with_ said baby on his hip, because Severus wasn't about to let a two-year-old run about unattended. Knowing his mother, she’d of left something behind that would have left Ariel incapacitated — or worse.

Ariel hadn't talked the first six months. Not one word. She’d just… followed him around, like a small phantom with wide, confused eyes. The puzzlement had faded out and been replaced with curiosity after the first couple of days, but even with Severus’ coaxing, Ariel hadn’t vocalized her thoughts.. She hadn’t asked for Lily, or for Potter, or anyone else. Usually, Severus had to guess if she needed something, and Ariel would either shake her head or give him a nod. Sometimes, if she was feeling specific, she’d draw him a picture.

It had… disturbed him. Surely a two-year-old should have been capable of _something._ Dumbledore had mentioned that Ariel had spoken before her parent’s death — he’d stopped by every week or so to make sure Severus hadn’t completely lost his fucking mind. He’d been reaching the end of his rope, between the Lily-clone and Real Lily being gone. She wouldn’t _talk_ — she just stared with His Eyes and smiled with Lily’s lines in her face.

Ariel had woken him up one night the way she usually did — by headbutting him, nearly knocking the breath out of him as Severus jolted upright. Nightmares were a common phenomenon — they happened weekly, but because the girl didn’t _talk,_ Severus hadn’t a clue what it was that was frightening her.

She’d clung to him and Severus had rocked her awkwardly — being a parent was still a ridiculous fucking thought to him at the time — until Ariel had quieted. When he’d stood to carry her back to her own bed, she’d let out a cry of protest.

“You can’t stay here.” He’d said to the top of her head, tired and frustrated with her never-ending silence. “You have your own bed.”

Her grip had loosened, and with an exasperated sigh, Severus had tried to stand again, only to be stopped by something brand new. 

“No, Daddy!” Ariel had whimpered into his nightshirt. “No!” 

It had taken him a minute to collect himself — her words had forced him back down onto the bed. They traveled up his spine and flooded through his head, making his ears roar and vision fuzzy.

“Alright.” Severus had said, stunned and a bit frightened. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“‘Kay.” Ariel had whispered, burying her face against his chest. He’d only been able to hold her, unable to say anything else, and wondered how the fuck he was going to manage this if the girl saying three words was going to render him incapable of moving. He hadn't even thought of what the child would call him. He’d toyed with _father_ and Severus, but ultimately decided that his own name was probably better. _Daddy_ was…

When Dumbledore had heard Ariel call him _Daddy_ a week later, he’d given the girl ten boxes of chocolate frogs, and Severus a teaching contract.

Severus realized that that was when he’d started loving her. That had been the moment when something new had lit up his chest and the tattered thing inside him had begun to beat again. He’d felt so ridiculous at the time… the girl had only sought him out because she’d had a bad dream…

He realized, that the incomprehensible heart of his and Lily’s child, would not let him distance himself. If Severus forced it, like he’d tried to, _minimally,_ then Ariel would be shattered.

“Good fucking grief.” He mumbled into his arm. He wasn't supposed to be important to anyone, least of all that little girl.

Severus couldn't let her go. He couldn't force her to distance herself from him — and he couldn't bear to see it happen. It was a new kind of pain, to even conceive the thought of them drifting apart and becoming strangers.

Which was why he hated that Potter was here.

He had heard the tone in Petunia’s whiny voice, laced with a hint that she knew more than she should when Severus had entered the annoying-familiar kitchen. It both worried him and annoyed him, and the worry was digging right into his soul, especially now that he had time to think in the quiet of the night. The last few days had been a whirlwind and now that he had stopped, Severus’ mind was entering overdrive. The boy had _passed out_ and Petunia hadn’t contacted him, like he’d _told her to_ if _anything_ were to happen —

_She looks like you. You can see it in her face — the same pathetic way you used to look at my sister._

Well, really, Severus should have expected that himself. After Ariel’s little stunt with Bellatrix’s bastard, he should have checked on the brat immediately, but his mind had been elsewhere.

Draining his glass for a final time, Severus felt the edges of the world begin to blur around him. The room began to swim, and he finally felt his body begin to relax beneath him. It had been almost ten years since he had drank so much, and he was not used to the feeling in the slightest. Usually he prided himself on his sharpness of instinct and told himself he had a child to think about, Merlin forbid something should happen and he find himself immobile due to his intoxication. There was also the fact that he’d sworn never to become his father, but clearly, those concerns were not present, or at least, not for tonight.

He staggered to the bedroom, and fell into bed.

That night, Severus dreamed.

He dreamed of a world where he had not spoken to Lily since they were fifteen, a world where they had not met in a bar. A world where he’d seen the wedding photos in the paper and thrown them into the fireplace, only to try and salvage them, because he hadn't been able to watch Lily burn, even if she was Potter’s glowing bride on paper.

He dreamed of her death, and his shame and guilt, only this time, there was nothing. Severus looked for Ariel, searched, but when Dumbledore’s hands opened to him, there was only the shattered remains of his heart. Severus begged him — screamed until it felt like his throat would tear in two, but Ariel was nowhere to be found.

Time was insurmountable. Years and years past, and yet, they felt like they each lasted a lifetime. Severus was alone with his grief and sorrow, so red that it felt like it would surely drown him. There was no Ariel running about his quarters, no child to remind him of something to hope for. It was an emptiness so deep and so dark that Severus let himself fall, hoping it would make it all end.

And then, one day, a small James Potter running, then, and Severus chased after him, throwing Curses and Hexes as dark figures tried to grab him. Every time he drew his wand, he lost a piece of the glass heart Dumbledore had given him. And the small James Potter laughed and laughed, didn't thank him, but sneered at him instead. But he had Lily-eyes… Lily-eyes and Potter-hair like Harry Potter did, only _this_ Potter wore Gryffindor robes and looked at him with so much hatred that it felt like a physical blow.

And then Severus found himself inside the shack where Lupin and Black and Potter had nearly killed him, and he was lying there, looking into James Potter’s face, trying to find something left of Lily, but it was too dark to see the eyes, too dark too see anything and it _hurt —_

He awoke with a jolt, and immediately emptied his stomach onto the floor beside him.

* * *

“You… _want to go back to the Dursleys?_ ” Dumbledore repeated back, appearing uncertain that he had heard correctly.

Harry shyly nodded his head, his scruffy hair falling back over his scar, which he’d been painfully conscious of ever since Ariel had mentioned Voldemort. Harry’s heart only beated faster within his chest, awaiting Dumbledore’s reply.

Now it was Dumbledore’s turn to take a deep breath,

“Come, Harry.” He quietly commanded, extending his arm for the boy to take.

Hand in hand, the old man led the way into the circular staircase guarded by a towering stone eagle. Harry fell into him a little as the staircase shuddered into action and they were steadily propelled in an upwards spiral. Even though he knew that this strange man was to blame for him not knowing the truth, there was something weirdly comforting about him and Harry wanted to trust, but found that he just couldn’t.

The door at the top opened in perfect synchronicity with their arrival. Dumbledore gently encouraged Harry inside — his eyes were rapt wide, taking it all in.

“Sit, Harry.” was the next injunction, delivered just as quietly as the last.

Harry sat in a plush leather wing chair in front of what he assumed was Dumbledore’s desk, taking his place in the centre of the office. He couldn’t believe how vast the rooms were, spreading far to the back, and quite high up a couple more staircases. He recalled Ariel saying that the Headmaster’s office was the highest part of the castle, and now he could see it for himself. He glanced out of a window that was off to the side, all too aware that he would probably never see that incredible view of the lochs and mountains again.

Years formed in Harry’s eye as he looked around the room. He saw shelves lined with leather-bound books that he would never open, paintings full of interesting looking people that he would never know the names of, and a very odd bird with bright red feathers that he would never know what it was. He wiped his eyes on the back of his sleeve before Dumbledore could see him crying, all of these temptations were right at his fingertips, but Harry knew that he would never belong in this World. No, going back to the Dursleys was the right thing to do. Harry would never belong here.

Dumbledore walked around to the front of his desk, and took the seat next to Harry, facing him squarely.

“Harry.” He began, “You are _sure_ that you wish to return to the care of your Aunt and Uncle?”

A firm nod, more confident than before.

“Tell me why.” Dumbledore asked, and it was then that Harry realized that this was quite possible the first adult who had ever asked something out of _concern —_ a chance to explain his feelings in a secure environment, quite possibly for the first time in his life.

Snape had never done that — Snape had saved him from Dudley and given him food and clothes and made sure Aunt Petunia didn’t lock him out of the house when it got too cold, but he’d never acted like he cared. Sometimes, Harry had thought he wasn’t capable, but that obviously wasn’t true anymore. He’d heard what Snape had said to Ariel downstairs…

Without a second thought, Harry blurted out, “Because I don’t _belong_ here.”

He did not mention the way he felt seeing Snape and Ariel earlier, feeling like there was no place for him in his sister’s family.

“I don’t know anything about all this,” He said, waving his arms around the room, “and I don’t know anything about why people know my name. I only know how to live my old life. _Please_ let me go back.”

Dumbledore swallowed, before offering a compromise. “I know you feel like your sister and Severus already have a life that you know little about, my boy. However, please be assured that they both care for you deeply, in their own ways. I am truly sorry for separating Ariel and yourself when I did, but nothing can change the fact that you and her share much more than just your parentage.”

Harry felt unsettled, as though the old man had just reached inside of him and read not only his mind, but the secrets of his soul, too.

“I see you are not comfortable here right now, Harry. The events of the last few days must have been particularly unsettling. You must be given time to come to terms with the truth in your own way, and if that means retreating from our World until you are ready, then I must allow your that comfort. It really is the least I can do.”

Dumbledore paused, like he was trying to just watch his reaction.

“Until I am ready?” Harry jumped up, confused. “No, I mean, I _need_ to go back to them now, forever!”

The old man placed a hand on the boy’s arm. “You must listen to me closely, Harry. You _do_ belong here. You _are_ part of all this. You _will_ join us as a student in September, and we will welcome you with open arms. I shall arrange for you to return to Privet Drive as you have requested, in order that you may reflect and prepare to return when the time is right. This is your birthright, my boy. I will not deny you that.”

Harry continued to look confused; this was not at all what he had meant.

“There will be some changes there; I shall ensure that your Aunt and Uncle treat you correctly this time, and Merlin forbid if they should go back to their old ways. There will be people around to keep an eye on you, my boy — people that aren’t Severus, if you don’t want him there. I shall arrange for Hagrid to escort you there without delay, if you are sure that is what you want.”

“Yes, sir, it is.” Harry confirmed. He wanted to get away from it all as soon as he could; he’d deal with the matter of _‘returning in September later,’_ he thought.

Dumbledore rose from his seat, and approached the very odd bird with bright red feathers. He took a feathered quill from his desk and wrote something on a small piece of parchment, before rolling it up tightly. The mysterious bird extended it’s leg without being asked, and balanced itself carefully while the headmaster tied the rolled note to it with a thin piece of leather. Once secure, Dumbledore stroked the bird’s head, and whispered into it’s ear.

Harry watched as the odd red bird stretched its wings and took flight through the open window. He did not stop watching until it became a tiny speck of scarlet against the dawn.

* * *

Severus awoke with a start only three hours later, his Wards rousing him to the fact that his Floo had been activated. He cursed under his breath as realized he was on the floor, limbs heavy and eyes groggy from the firewhiskey he had consumed until the early hours of the morning. His head was throbbing.

Dealing with the more immediate matter of compromised Wards, and without bothering to pull on his robes, Severus made his way directly to the hearth in his living room where faint traces of green sparks were dying among the embers.

“Damn it, child.” He muttered, pointing his wand at the fireplace to find the details of where Ariel had gone. Severus knew that the boy had no idea what the Floo network even _was,_ so Ariel _must_ have been the culprit.

Not for the first time, Severus was glad he had locked off his fireplace so that it could only access locations within Hogwarts itself — wherever she had disappeared to, Severus was at least reassured that Ariel had not been able to leave the school’s boundaries.

Diagnostic returned, Severus saw that the last known use of the Floo was from his own quarters to the Headmaster’s office. This news seemed to make his headache even worse. He grabbed a handful of powder from the jar on top of the mantle, and threw it straight into the coals.

“Dumbledore’s office.” Severus snapped. He was still furious that Dumbledore hadn’t even bothered to come and meet the boy yet, let alone take the brat off his very full hands.

As the portal opened, Severus walked straight through the flames, finding Ariel standing right in front of Dumbledore. Whatever they were talking about, it looked to be very serious. Not bothering with formalities, Severus aimed his speech directly at Ariel.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, young lady?” He growled at her. “When have I _ever_ allowed you to Floo alone?”

She looked away, down at her feet, as though she were fighting back tears. Severus gave Dumbledore a nasty look, immediately thinking responsible for daughter’s demeanor. Ariel had been fine just hours ago… what had changed?

He couldn’t take those eyes and that face twisting into the expression that looked back up at him. At least, not right now. How different Ariel looked to him now that certain words had been exchanged. Clarity made her look —

“I brought her here, Severus.” Dumbledore answered in a soft voice, keeping his blue eyes on the girl in the chair, “Harry was missing when she woke up, and I thought might like to know where he had gone.”

His stomach heaved.

“Potter’s _missing?”_ Severus hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose and cursing whatever deities were listening. The _one_ time he’d drank in the past ten years, and he’d managed to let not _one,_ but apparently _two_ children, one of which had no bloody clue how to navigate a magic castle, leave his quarters unescorted and unbeknownst to him.  

“No.” Dumbledore said. “He’s with Hagrid. I asked him to take him back to his Aunt and Uncle’s.”

Severus froze, refusing to believe he had just heard the old man correctly.

“You — did — _what?”_ He asked in a dangerous voice.

“The boy came to me this morning and asked to be returned to their care. I’ve asked Hagrid to ensure he gets there safely and settled, and I’ve put people on watch, but I assume that you might like to —”

“He _asked?”_

“He believed it beneficial to go back until September.”

Severus felt his anger burn through him, alongside the puzzlement that clouded his mind, although he believed that might be more or less the firewhiskey. Did the boy not think Severus’ care good enough for him? He hadn’t heard him complain, but he could only imagine the things Potter had said to Ariel about what he thought about his introduction to the wizarding world. Surely living in a cupboard, however unjustified and _vile,_ could not squash out the spark of James Potter that most certainly lived on in his little clone. And now, Severus could openly despise the boy without feeling that twinge of guilt, because Ariel was _his._ After all he’d done for that boy over the years — dealing with Petunia —

“And you just _let him go?”_ Severus snapped, “Without _consulting me?_ I’m the one who went and got him, for Merlin’s sake! _”_

“I believe he wanted to avoid any hard goodbyes.”

Both their gazes landed on the grief stricken girl in the chair, and Severus nearly broke something. It was one thing for the brat to leave without letting Severus know he wasn’t happy — good fucking riddance. Severus didn’t care one bit if the little monster stayed or not. But to leave without saying goodbye to his _sister,_ the girl who had her magical core drained, had been seeing him for _months_ on end, and wept to him over the idea of being _separated_ from her only brother…

He was going to murder the little cretin when he got his hands on him.

“Was it something _I_ did?” Ariel asked in a small voice, finally lifting her dark eyes to look at Dumbledore.

“Of course not.” Both men chorused.

“Then what was it?” She whispered, her head whipping back and forth between the two of them, “Why does he want to stay there? They treated him _terribly!_ He _belongs_ here!”

“Apparently, Harry does not agree.” Dumbledore sighed. “I would not force him to stay if he didn’t want it.”

“Why not?” Ariel said angrily, “You forced him to stay with the Dursley’s all those years! You _both_ did!”

 _“Ariel.”_ Severus rebuked quietly, and at this, her fury landed on him, and he nearly flinched away at those eyes on that face, not bothering to stop her as she bolted from the room and down the spiral staircase.

“He could not have stayed here.” Dumbledore said as soon as the sound of her running footsteps faded. “But I didn’t think the boy would ask to go _back…”_

“He can’t live there, Albus.” He fell into the chair his daughter had just been sitting in. “I won’t allow it. Not after… this. Ariel will never forgive herself.” _Even if it’s not her fault._

“I have protective measures in place, my boy. I’m sure you instilled a certain… shall we say, _fear,_ with your previous visit, but _Hagrid…”_ He gave a small chuckle.

“I won’t allow it.” Severus repeated flatly, “He’s going somewhere else. If he doesn’t want to see the girl, _fine,_ but I won’t have him around that Muggle _filth —”_

 _“Now now,_ Severus--”

“Lily wouldn’t have wanted this!” His hand slammed down on the arm of the chair, and before he could realize what he’d just said. Dumbledore’s eyes grew dim, as though a light had flickered off.

“Lily?” He raised an eyebrow, “I would have thought that after all this time…”

“That _what?”_ Severus snarled, “That I would _forget?”_

“Not forget, but Severus… it’s been many years…”

“And nothing has changed.” He gritted his teeth and cursed the firewhiskey sitting nearly empty in his desk into oblivion, “I promised to protect her children, and placing the boy back with Petunia after him finding out the truth is not what she would have wanted. He needs… to be eased into this life.”

He owed that much to Lily, at least. Had the circumstances been different, Severus would have said _fuck it,_ to the brat. Let him sulk at his relative’s house. Hell, Potter could even have the cupboard back if he wanted it. Severus, however, owed it to her, and to their daughter. Despite how much he wanted to smite the little beast at the moment for making his daughter _cry,_ Potter had to be placed somewhere Severus knew he would be _safe._ The blood wards at Privet Drive might protect him from outside harm, but other than that, Potter was isolated and ignored. Not to mention that Ariel would mope for _months_ on end about this, and Severus didn’t think he could bear see her so miserable. Especially if she thought _she_ had done something to offend the boy.

The brat really, _really_ deserved it, but Severus had made a promise. He didn’t care how damn difficult Potter was — he would not break the vow he’d made.

“There has to be someone!” He tried desperately. 

“I had considered the Weasleys.” Dumbledore finally conceded, leaning back in his chair, “They have a boy Harry’s age I thought he might get on well with… but if the boy doesn’t want it…”

Severus stood, already stalking out the door as the Headmaster called, “Severus, where are you going?” in a weary voice.

“Let the Weasley’s know the bloody Boy-Who-Lived is coming.” He snarled over his shoulder.

* * *

No sooner had Severus Apparated in the middle of a Muggle suburb, a loud _CRACK_ echoing off the linoleum sidings of the ticky-tacky houses, did he hear a terrified shriek come from the house in front of him. It hadn’t even been twenty four hours, and this was the _second_ time Severus would be seeing Petunia. The thought made him want to incinerate the tree in front of the home, but he held back his boiling emotions and slid through the front door, allowing it to slam against the wall.

Petunia was standing in the hallway, like she had been awaiting him, brown eyes wide and body tensed, as though she were bracing herself to run.

“Where is he?” Severus growled.

“That _thing_ b-b-brought him before!” She extended a bony finger to the stairs, “We didn’t ask for him back, I swear it!”

“I didn’t think you did.” He sneered, and with a flip of his cloak, he flew up the narrow stairwell and stalked down the hallway, finding one of the doors cracked up and a familiar mess of raven-black hair sitting upon the bed.

 _“Potter!”_ Severus barked, sending the brat jumping at least a foot in the air.

The boy’s head whipped around, green eyes widened in surprise — or perhaps it was horror. He really didn’t care for either.

“Sir?” He gulped, stumbling off the bed as Severus swooped into the room, “What are you —”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He towered over the boy menacingly,  “Do you have _any_ idea — _firstly,_ you leave my quarters to gallivant about, and then you _leave_ without a single word to your sister. Haven’t you _any_ conscious, boy?”

Those unbearable eyes grew as least four sizes, finally free of that infuriating confusion that made Severus’ temple throb, and with another emotion he hoped made the brat think twice from now on — _guilt._

“Does she hate me now?” Potter asked in a very small voice.

“You idiotic boy!” Severus leaned down so that he was face to face with the Potter clone, “She thinks _you_ hate _her!_ How _dare_ you run off without giving her a reason! You’ve _no_ idea how long she’s been waiting to meet you —”

“It wasn’t her.” The boy whimpered, “I… it’s just…”

“Wizarding life not enough for you?” He spat.

“N-no!” Potter looked alarmed, “It’s brilliant… I just… I shouldn’t be there…”

“What the devil are you talking about, Potter? You’re a _wizard._ Every magical child _must_ receive an education.”

“Not me.” He toed the floor, “I… I just don’t belong there.”

“That doesn’t make any sense, Potter.”

“It’s not like it matters to _you.”_ He blurted out, “You don’t even _like_ me! Why do you care?”

Neither of them breathed for a very, very, _very_ long time.

It seemed like every tiny, microscopic detail of Severus’ past was resurfacing at once, and he did not like it one bit. Between Ariel being right on the cusp of uncovering his secrets, and the boy’s intuition, it was a wonder Severus hadn’t ripped out any hair yet.

“It’s not that I don’t like… _you.”_ Severus tried, failing.

_Yes it is, yes it bloody is you liar._

Potter raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t like… _people.”_

“People?” The brat parroted.

“I don’t like anyone.” He corrected, cursing the firewhiskey violently in his head.

“Except for Ariel.” Potter concluded.

Severus ground his teeth, glaring down at the suddenly inquisitive child, “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because she doesn’t run away for nefarious reasons and question my every motive!” He grabbed the boy roughly on the arm and began to drag him on the room. He’d get the blasted child to the Weasley’s one way or another, even if it meant putting a leash on him or a full Body Bind. And if Severus got creative, he could even —

“Stop!” Potter squirmed away, eyes widening in alarm, “I _told_ you, I’m not going back! Please, just let me stay here!”

“I’m _not_ taking you back to Hogwarts, Potter!” Severus snarled, tightening his grip, “The Headmaster has informed me that there is a more suitable wizarding family that can take you until term begins.”

He went rigid, and then his eyes narrowed warily, “Who?”

“The Weasley’s. There’s an entire brood of them to entertain you. I’m told they have a son your age.”

The boy said nothing, and Severus gave a great, deep sigh.

“Your sister will never forgive me if I let you stay here.” He managed to grit out, “Do me the great kindness of coming quietly so that I may return and inform her that those _things_ downstairs did not lock you in that blasted cupboard or chain you to a piece of foliage or some other barbaric thing.”

“They never chained me anywhere.” Potter muttered, but he went limp and Severus released his hold, finding that the boy’s head was bowed in defeat.

“I was being sarcastic.”

“I know.”

Severus rolled his eyes, “Will I have to carry you, or will you come willingly?”

Potter peered up under the mess of hair, “Are they nice? Do they like kids?”

“They have seven of them.” He said dryly, “I would assume they wouldn’t have so many if they didn’t.”

“Not everyone who has kids like them.” Potter said under his breath, and Severus found that it was becoming a bit harder to breath at those words.

“I imagine very few people dislike the Boy-Who-Lived — especially the Weasley’s.” Severus massaged his forehead, suddenly desperate to placate the brat at this point and get as far away from him as humanly possible.

“Will I be able to see Ariel?” His eyes glimmered hopefully, and he recalled seeing that same emotion flicker through replicas many years ago.

“Perhaps.” He turned away, resting a hand on the doorframe and squeezing his eyes shut, hiding his face from the brat.

He felt a hand slip into his, a small voice saying _“okay,”_ and Severus knew in that moment that Lily’s children were going to kill him. 


	14. Up In the Air

They landed with a loud _THUMP,_ sending a large flock of birds screeching and panicking to get out of the way. For a long moment, all Harry could hear was the sound of wings and feathers taking flight, until all of a sudden, they were all gone, and he realized that he was clinging to Snape like they’d been glued together somehow.

Harry quickly removed himself from him, cringing a little when the man’s nostrils flared down at him. But Snape didn’t say anything. He simply fixed his robes and gave a quick jerk of his head, motioning for Harry to follow.

They were in what seemed to be a marshy field of some kind, a large house several stories high looming in the distance. Morning fog surrounded them, for it was still rather early, perhaps eight or so. Harry unconsciously moved closer to Snape, a bit intimidated by the foreign setting and its apparent gloomy demeanor.

And then Harry realized that the method of travelling they had used had made him nauseous, and he promptly vomited into a nearby bush.  

“It happens the first several times.” Snape said, sounding as though he was speaking about the weather, head still turned in the direction of the strange house. He reminded Harry of some kind of great nocturnal bird, awaiting danger and readying himself for flight.

If that was supposed to make him feel any better, it didn’t. Harry felt a blush rush to his cheeks, ducking his head and giving him a reluctant nod.

“Come along, then.” Snape sighed, looking put upon. It struck Harry as odd, seeing that he had left voluntarily, knowing from the man’s demeanor that Snape didn’t like him to begin with. Was it really _just_ because Ariel didn’t want him back with his Aunt and Uncle, or had Harry found himself in the clutches of someone who just really, _really_ wanted to make his life difficult?

No — that couldn’t be true. Snape had gone out of his way repeatedly to make sure Harry was doing alright.

For Ariel.

But then he remembered what Snape had said about Ariel being upset and resigned himself to believing the former, and trudged along behind him.

“Do you know them?” Harry asked Snape, finding it hard to follow the man’s long legs.

“Not well.” Came the short reply.

“That doesn’t exactly make me _feel_ better.”

“I couldn't care less about how you _feel_ right now, Potter.” Snape threw a sneer behind him.

“And _I_ couldn't care less about living with the Dursleys until September.” Harry muttered under his breath, though apparently not quietly enough.

Snape turned suddenly, glaring down at Harry. He nearly slammed into his legs, for he was jogging alongside him in order to keep up.

“Do you _really_ believe it wise to _complain_ right now?” Snape asked in a soft voice that made him cringe.

“No, sir.” Harry mumbled.

 _“Speak up,_ boy.”

“I said _no,_ sir.” He repeated louder, giving Snape a half glare. It paled in comparison to his.

“Good.” With the flick of his robes Snape stalked away, leaving Harry to fumble after him in his wake. Ariel had mentioned that he was needlessly dramatic, hadn’t she? He was certainly acting like that now.

As they approached the odd looking house, Harry noticed that the same magic he’d felt at Hogwarts was here as well, though not as tangible. He looked around, trying to see if he could find any hints that wizards lived here, finding that Snape was watching him closely.

“There are wards in place.” Snape said, as though he’d read Harry’s mind, “They make the Weasley’s home undetectable to anyone who might wish them harm. They’re minor, but enough. I sense that you can feel them.”

He nodded, “Do all wizards have them?”

“If they’re smart, they do.” They’d reached the door at this point, a single knock from Snape causing something to go _CRASH_ from inside. Harry jumped, immediately hiding behind Snape’s tall frame and earning himself an eye roll.

The door swung open, revealing a stout woman with red hair who already had a small smile on her face, hair tied up in a messy bun and dressed in the same strange clothes Snape and Ariel and Dumbledore had been wearing. Her smile widened, eyes softening when they landed on Harry, who slowly inched out and gave a hesitant one back.

“Molly.” Snape greeted curtly, giving only the slightest inclination of his head.

It was then that the kind-looking woman finally seemed to realize Snape was even there, brown eyes glancing up at him and smiling waning just a bit into one that was a little more reserved.

“Severus.” She returned the greeting, opening the door wider for them to enter.

“Come in! You’ll catch a death of cold if you stand out there any longer!” She welcomed, clearly directing the missive more towards Harry than Snape.

Snape swooped inside, steering Harry along with a rough hand on the back of his neck.

“Potter, meet Mrs Weasley.” Snape said in a very bored voice once the door had closed, eyeing their new surroundings with a look of trepidation.

It was warm, but in a different sense that Harry was used to, and the complete and utter opposite of what the Dursleys’ house had been. It was like someone had taken the essentials of what a house needed and scattered them randomly about the place. Harry tried to keep himself from gawking at the pan floating into midair, being scrubbed by a brush that seemed to be moving of it’s own accord. He briefly noticed Snape trying to incinerate a glass figurine of a doe nuzzling her fawn with his glare.

Snape gave his shoulder a little shake, breaking Harry from his daze.

“Hello.” He said quietly to the woman, who had broken into a large smile that made feel him as warm as the house did. No one had ever looked at him like that before, except for Ariel, and Dumbledore, maybe.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Harry!” Mrs Weasley said in a bright voice, “I er… I apologize for the mess. We weren’t expecting company, you see, and Professor Dumbledore just Floo’d to say that you’ll be staying with us until September.”

“It was rather unexpected.” Snape agreed, giving Harry a knowing look that made him squirm. “I’m sure Albus apologized for the timing.”

“Of course.” Mrs Weasley said, wiping her hands on her apron, “Should we be expecting the girl as well?”

It was as though a great storm cloud had passed over the man’s face.

“No.” Snape said flatly, “You should not.”

Mrs Weasley frowned, “But surely —”

“You accepted Albus’ offer?” Snape interrupted rather rudely, one eyebrow raising rather sharply.

“Of course.” Her brown eyes lost a bit of their warmness and narrowed, “We told him from the very beginning that if he needed us —”

“Good. Then he told you the situation, I presume?”” He crossed his arms, face twisted into outward annoyance at the setting, which Harry seemed to be loving more and more with each passing second.

There was an awkward moment of silence. Harry looked between the two adults, both not masking their growing annoyance and distaste very well.

“Ariel is still with _you?”_ Mrs. Weasley finally asked, her voice not at all disguising her unhappiness with that fact.

The temperature in the air seemed to drop almost instantly. Snape’s eyes glittered dangerously as he crossed his arms tightly in front of him. He narrowed his eyes and spoke clearly. “She is.”

“And she didn’t want to come with her brother?” Mrs Weasley sounded doubtful.

“Ariel doesn’t know the boy is even _here.”_ He snapped, “And since she is _my_ responsibility, I hardly see how these questions are relevant.”

“I’m just making sure.” She said, tilting her chin to look him up and down, “Albus wasn’t specific, and I’d like to make sure I wasn’t misinformed of anything.”

“If Albus wasn’t specific, it was for a reason.” Snape replied nastily.

 _“MUUUM!”_ A boy’s voice called from somewhere within the house, causing Mrs Weasley to recoil from the pouncing position she seemed to molding into. The glare that had been focused on Snape quickly disappeared, leaving Harry to wonder how someone so kind looking could ever look so fierce. It made him wonder how anyone, even Snape (who Harry figured by now wasn’t pleasant to anyone, really), could be rude to her.

Harry could see Snape biting the inside of his cheek in agitation and he wondered why the man didn’t just leave already.

 _“Mum!”_ A skinny, redheaded girl bounced into the room, ribbons tying her pigtails today, and yet, she was wearing baggy overalls. “Mum, Ron won’t give me my Gobstones back! He _promised_ he’d play with me, but now he’s taken them all for himself…”

“Sweetheart, Mummy’s busy at the moment…” Mrs Weasley shot them an apologetic look, though it was aimed more at Harry than Snape.

The girl look puzzled, and then her brown eyes landed on Harry and they widened in what looked like shock. She almost reminded Harry of Ariel, but her features were not as sharp and defined as his sister’s, nor were her eyes and hair as dark. Her eyes were the color of milk chocolate and hair lighter.

And then she promptly bolted from the room.

Harry looked up at Snape in confusion, and perhaps a reason for what the heck _that_ had been, but he quickly turned his attention back to Mrs Weasley when he saw that Snape looked like he’d bitten into a lemon.

“I’m sorry about that…” Mrs Weasley cleared her throat, “Ginny’s er… I would imagine she’s a bit _starstruck.”_

It took Harry a moment to realize what she meant by that.

“Oh,” He mumbled, shifting his weight uncomfortably, “it’s alright. I guess that’ll take some getting used to.”

“I can certainly see never quite getting used to that. I haven’t told the kids you’ll be staying with us yet...” She motioned for them to follow, and with a stiff nod of approval from Snape, Harry did so, finding themselves in the kitchen where the pan was still washing itself, “I’m sure it was a shock for Ginny to come downstairs and find the Boy-Who-Lived in her living room. But I’m sure you get that a lot, now don’t you?”

“Not really.” Harry looked up, expecting to find the ceiling twinkling like the one in the Great Hall back at Hogwarts, but it wasn’t.

He felt something bump his shoulder and Harry peered back at Snape, who was glaring, although Harry was quite sure he hadn’t stopped since they’d arrived.

 _“Stop staring.”_ He hissed.

If Mrs. Weasley had heard Snape, she didn’t make it known to them. “But surely _some_ folks must recognize you. I’d imagine it must be rather annoying at times…”

“Mr Potter was raised by Muggles.” Snape said in a cool voice, “He’s just found out recently about his celebrity status.”

Harry felt his newly improved mood deflate a bit.

 _“Muggles?”_ Mrs Weasley looked surprised before bending over to take something out of the oven that made Harry’s mouth water. “Well, I’m sure Arthur will want to hear all about your way of life, Harry. He’s fascinated by them… he works in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts at the Ministry… you two will hit it off nicely.”

“They weren’t anything special.” He shrugged, meaning every word.

He could have sworn he saw Snape’s mouth twitch.

 _“MUM!”_ Came another voice, this time, a boy’s, from somewhere nearby, “Mum, tell Ginny to stop being a baby!”

“For the love of Merlin…” Mrs Weasley stood, slamming the oven shut and spinning on her heel, hands on her hips. “What in Godric’s good name could they be going on about _now?”_

_“MUUUM!”_

“Ronald Bilius Weasley!” Mrs Weasley shouted as a skinny, redheaded boy with freckles covering every inch of his face skidded to a halt in the doorway, “There is absolutely _no need_ to shout!”

“But Ginny says Harry Potter is in the house!” The boy named Ronald panted, holding a hand over his stomach, “She keeps insisting on it! Tell her to —”

And then his blue eyes landed on Snape, and they widened. Then they landed on Harry, and widened even more. Harry wondered if Ariel had ever gotten used to this, or if he had a long ways to catch up.

“Harry, this is Ron.” Mrs Weasley gestured to her son, leaning against the counter and looked tired and even more apologetic, “He’s your age, so you’ll be starting school together in the fall.”

“Really?” Ron’s eyes brightened and Harry felt himself take a relieved breath, “Brilliant!”

Mrs Weasley seemed to relax, giving Harry another kind smile as Ron walked into the room, “Ron, why don’t you show Harry around a bit? I’d like to have a word with Professor Snape before he leaves…”

“Sure.” Ron waved him forward, giving him an almost shy smile, “It’ll be nice to have someone else besides Ginny around until summer starts, anyway.”

Harry grinned back, but not before he turned back to look at Snape, whose eyes had turned into black marbles that held none of the warmth he had seen in them last night when he’d been talking with Ariel.

He swallowed hard and ducked his head a bit, “When will I see you again?”

“I don’t know.” Snape replied coldly, “I would like to think that it is up to you.”

“Will you tell Ariel I’m not mad at her?” Harry bit his lip and toed the floor, “Can… can you tell her that it’s not her… it’s me?”

“You could have told her that yourself.” He snapped.

“Can I see her soon?”

Snape crossed arms tightened, “If she wishes it.”

Harry simply stared back at him, waiting for his approval — a head nod or a sneer or _anything_ that would let him know that Snape would make, or _let,_ a reunion happen.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” He sneered as Harry blinked blankly at him, “You’re making Ronald stand there — _go.”_

He jumped and scampered over to Ron, who was watching Snape now with a look of fear and a hint of recognition. It was then that Harry saw the resemblance between him and the twins Ariel had introduced and he wondered about the others Snape had mentioned.

“You came here with _him?”_ Ron whispered as soon they were out of the adult’s earshot.

“Yeah…” Harry sighed, feeling dejected and filled to the brim of guilt. He wished he hadn’t left so quickly. He wished Ariel were here.

“I’ve heard about Snape.” He went on, guiding Harry up a flight of stairs that creaked and moaned as they went, “My brothers say he can turn very nasty in class.”

Harry couldn’t agree more with that statement, despite never having been a student of his.

“Two of them know your sister.” Ron continued, “Fred and George — they’re twins — say she covers for them when they pull pranks. They say they’re famous all over school for it, but I think they’re bluffing.”

“I met them yesterday.” Harry said.

“You did?” He looked surprised, “You’ve been to Hogwarts already?”

“Yeah, my sister lives there. I’ve just met her too.”

“She _lives_ there?” Now Ron looked confused, “But if she lives there, where do _you_ live?”

“We were separated. I went with my Mum’s sister. Ariel got Snape.”

“She _what?”_ His expression quickly twisted into horror, “Ariel Potter grew up with _him?_ I’m sorry mate, that’s bloody awful…”

Harry didn’t bother to point out the irony in that. He just gave another half shrug and followed suite, trying to clear his muddled mind of the hooked nose man downstairs and focus on the fact that he was in a place with kids who were just like him. He wondered if Ron was just being nice to him because he was famous.

“Is it just you and your sister and the twins then?” Harry directed the conversation towards Ron, quite done with talking about his suddenly incredibly over complicated life.

“Merlin, no.” He rolled his eyes as he led him down a hallway, a dustpan sweeping debris into itself to its own doing, “There are my other brothers — Bill, he’s the oldest, and then Charlie who travels all over the continent breeding dragons…”

Harry couldn’t have heard him say dragons, but he didn’t bother to ask, for fear he’d sound rather stupid.

“...and then there’s Percy, but he’s a bit of a prat if you ask me… or anyone really. And you met the twins, Fred and George. They’re all graduated or going to Hogwarts now, ‘cept for Ginny and I. She’s a year younger than us.”

“She ran away when she saw me.” Harry said, looking around for the strange redheaded girl.

“She has a bit of a thing for you.” Ron rolled his eyes, “I mean, with the entire wizarding world knowing you and your sister and all… she gets all goo-goo-eyed whenever Dad tells the story.”

Harry’s mind wandered to the boy Ariel said she’d been friends with… had his name been Damon? His eyes had widened in precisely the same manner as Ron’s sister’s when he’d seen the scar on Harry’s forehead.

“Oh.” Harry said dumbly, not really knowing how to respond to that.

“It’ll be nice to have you around.” Ron grinned at him as he lead him into a room that made Harry’s jaw drop, “Ginny is great and all, but she can be bratty. Gets a little lonely, is all.”

“I know how you feel.” Harry said, a little hollowly. Dudley had never been anything like a brother to Harry, but he definitely understood the brat aspect, though for some reason, he thought Ron may be exaggerating just a little about Ginny.

The room was small and cluttered, much like the rest of the house. Harry got the sense that the Weasley’s didn’t mind a mess, which he didn’t either, but it was so unlike the Dursley’s that it was almost a culture shock to him, though it was nothing like Hogwarts.

Around him, the posters of men on brooms moved, and although Harry had seen a ton of his parents yesterday, he still couldn’t quite find the strength to close his jaw as it dropped open of its own accord. What had Ariel called the sport? Something that started with a Q, he recalled.

“Almost everyone on the English team.” Ron said proudly, beaming at his collection, “You have a favorite position? Mine’s Vosper.”

“Never seen a game.” Harry shook his head.

Ron’s blue eyes tripled in size.

“You’ve never seen a game of _Quidditch?”_ He shrieked, practically rattling the room.

“I lived with Muggles.” He pointed out.

“But you’re _Harry Potter!”_ Ron wailed, “How could have the Boy-Who-Lived never have seen a game of _Quidditch!_ Your sister never took you?”

“I don’t think she likes it much.” Harry said, remembering the face she’d made when she’d said how mad people went over it.

“Impossible.” He scoffed, digging through the mound of toys and books that seemed to have collective at the end of his bed, _“Everyone_ likes Quidditch. You obviously don’t know anything about it… which means…” He tossed a book in Harry’s direction, which he fumbled with before catching it, “that I’m going to show you why it’s the best bloody thing to grace this planet!”

 _That’s impossible,_ Harry thought to himself,  _when there’s Hogwarts._

* * *

 

The rock overlooking the chasm was where Ariel had stayed all day, although it didn’t quite feel like it did in times past. Usually when she returned to her thinking place, it was out of anger. Here, Ariel could scream and curse and throw rocks at trees for as long as she pleased. When she had been younger, Severus had brought her here when he’d come to the Forest to collect plants for potions and such, letting her play within his eyesight. But now, as she sat down on the familiar hard surface, she could only bring herself to tuck her knees under her chin and wrap her arms around herself, still in her nightgown and slippers. She’d cast a Warming Charm on herself a while ago, for even though it was the end of March and signs up spring were in the air, it was still _very_ cold out.

There were no sounds except for the wind moving through the trees and the rush of the stream somewhere nearby.

For a while, Ariel simply stared at the endless space before her, trying to clear her mind and get a handle on everything that had happened within the past forty-eight hours. In such a short span of time, she’d managed to find out there was a _magical connection_ between her and her brother, _finally meet_ said brother, only to lose him just as they’d found one another. Surely she must have said something that’d upset him. Ariel had been racking her brain for hours over what it could have been, but she was as close to finding out what had triggered Harry to run now as she was when Dumbledore had first told her Hagrid was taking him back.

She _must_ have done something to hurt him. What other reason would Harry have to just up and leave without saying any kind of goodbye? Why would he even _want_ to go back to the Dursleys? Was Ariel truly somehow _worse_ than those… _horrid_ Muggles?

The thought had been gnawing away at her for the past several hours as she pondered herself upon her rock. At one point, her mind tugged at the question of why her father hadn’t come looking for her, but she quickly snuffed it out and thanked Merlin that he hadn’t. The only reason he hadn’t come sprinting after her the day Ariel had stormed out of Potions was because he had a class. But today it was Sunday, and very out of character for him not to follow her up.

When the rustling of leaves tore her from her ponderings, only then did Ariel allow herself to bury her guilt, expecting her father to emerge from the bushes behind her and not yet wanting to speak about how she was feeling just yet. But it wasn’t Severus that came forward, but Damon, who had several leaves sticking out of his black hair and patches of dirt on his robes.

“You couldn’t have chosen an easier place to find?” Damon complained, falling down beside her, panting.

“I don’t remember asking you to come.” Ariel said lightly, letting her annoyance that her brooding her been disrupted show.

“I needed to see if you were okay.” His expression held concern. “And that I’m sorry —  it was my fault, really. I shouldn’t have suggested that stupid theoretical spell.”

“It’s okay.” She murmured, her tone softening. “I was the one that used it —”

“I was the one that let you.”

Ariel glanced at him, her eyes meeting his. They were as blue as a summer’s sky — bright and clear, not a cloud in sight.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m fine now, and so are you, and that’s all that matters.”

His gaze lingered for a moment, as if he wanted to say something more, but then turned to face his feet, the shoelaces on his boots lightly swaying in the breeze. The next few minutes held silence.

“Was that it?” Ariel inquired, rolling a small pebble in between her fingers. “Or did you just want to sit here and watch the day go by with me?”

Damon chuckled at her sarcasm, flicking a leaf off of his leg. “No, actually. Where’s Potter _‘numéro deux?’”_

Ariel shot him a look, implying that this wasn’t the time for humourous French.

“Gone.” She muttered, burying half her face back in her arms, “He left earlier this morning.”

“He just came for a visit?” Damon asked curiously.

“No.” She replied shortly.

“Then I’m confused.” He leaned back on the pads of his hands, looking over the expanse that Ariel hadn’t torn her eyes from in hours.

“That makes two of us.” Ariel said bitterly, letting her red hair hide her quivering lip as she fought to hold back tears.

Damon seemed to sense that his amused tone wasn’t appropriate anymore, shifting his weight as he tried to peer around her veil of hair. “Are you alright? What happened?”

And then she promptly burst into tears, immediately mortified that she had lost her cool in front of Damon-- _again_.

“I don’t _know.”_ Ariel sobbed, frantically wiping the tears away as Damon watched with worried eyes, looking slightly bewildered, “H-he just left without saying anything! We spent all day together yesterday… I tried to explain to him that us being separated wasn’t my choice… I thought he loved Hogwarts…”

“He didn’t say why?” Damon asked softly, moving closer to her.

“No… I woke up and he was gone. I had figured Dumbledore had finally asked Harry up to his office when I saw he wasn’t in my room, so I waited by the Floo. And then… the Headmaster said he asked to leave. Hagrid took him.”

He went very quiet, lowering his eyes to the stone they sat upon, “I didn’t scare him off, did I? I didn’t mean to poke fun at him… I was just surprised to see him there…”

“No.” Ariel shook her head, “I think he was just overwhelmed… I kind of told him that the entire wizarding world knows who he is and that I’d been watching him for months...”

“You _what?”_ Damon’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

It suddenly struck Ariel that she hadn’t told Damon anything about her night visions, save the fact that she’d simply been dreaming about Harry. At this point, her father’s previous threats and warnings of Damon had been long ignored, and he _had_ admitted that maybe Damon needed a friend to keep him in the right direction. So Ariel told him of the pain in her scar and the dreams of Harry having, of the things Dumbledore had told her of the connection and Voldemort’s hand in it.

“So your _mother_ saved you that night.” Damon said once she had finished, his voice a kind of quiet she hadn’t heard him use before.

She hadn’t had much time to ponder the thought, since so much had been going on, but having it stated aloud now made her sit up a little straighter and look Damon in the eye, heart pounding painfully in her chest at the idea, “Yeah, I guess she did.”

“With the power of _love.”_

Her gaze turned turned into a murderous glare, nails digging into her legs, “ How _dare_ you! You don’t _get_ to make fun of that. She’s _dead.”_

“I wasn’t making fun.” Damon looked offended, “That’s what _happened,_ or at least, that’s how Dumbledore made it sound to me. She didn’t let You-Know-Who kill you guys because she _loved_ you and Harry. And You-Know-Who was the complete _opposite_ of that.”

“It was more than just love. She didn’t move because she’d rather die than have to watch _us_ die.” Ariel swallowed the building lump in her throat as silent tears spilled over once more, “It was some kind of protective spell that she probably didn’t even know would work. She could have died for nothing, for all she knew. It was sheer _luck.”_

“But she still did it. Isn’t that what love is supposed to be?”

“But _why?”_ Ariel asked, knowing he wouldn’t have the answers she so desperately wanted know, “Why was he trying to kill _us?”_

“People like that don’t need a reason.” Damon said softly, “And if he did, I doubt it was a very good one. My mother was one of his, if not _the_ most loyal of his followers. She tried to kill me when she realized the Aurors were coming for her and my father—explain _that_ reasoning.”

She wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly for a moment, looking back at him in wide-eyed shock, “Bellatrix tried to--”

“I read it in an old newspaper. She’d rather me dead than let me be taken away. She was lucky Lucius got me in the end, or I’m sure the family I was placed with might as well have had a big red target painted on their backs.” He said, letting out a humorless snort that made her heart hurt even more, “But that’s not my point. My point was that… sometimes people do things for reasons you can’t fathom… and honestly, Ariel, maybe it’s for the best. You-Know-Who wasn’t exactly a guy with a whole lot of reason.”

“But why…”

“Just be thankful your Mum cared.” Damon said quietly, “And then try to imagine what someone like Harry must be thinking when he found that out. Did you ever think he left because he was more than just overwhelmed by it all? If the Muggles didn’t tell him anything, maybe Harry figured he wasn’t ready to be here.”

“But this is where he _belongs!”_

“And maybe that scares him!” Damon sighed, beginning to pick the leaves out of his hair, “For Merlin’s sake, Ariel, imagine being told after a lifetime that you’re bloody _famous_ and have weird magic powers that millions of people think helped you defeat You-Know-Who! I mean, you grew up with it… Harry didn’t.”

Ariel went silent, considering this. Sure, she had figured when Harry had first ran out of the Great Hall that he was disconcerted. It was a lot to process, even for her. Ariel had almost put these new revelations on the backburner, fetching and getting to know her brother her only focus these past couple of days. If she imagined it from his point of view, finding out that his sister was alive, that his parents weren’t careless nobodies, that there was a whole _world_ he didn’t even know had existed, sure, Ariel could understand and see giving him some much needed space. But did he have to _leave_ without saying anything?

“How are you so sure?” Ariel asked hoarsely, “You act like this is common sense… am I really just _that_ blind to it?”

“No,” He shook his head and gave her a crooked smile, “I just know what it’s like to be on the other side of the looking glass. You don’t.”

“I just wish he had talked to me about it.” She said quietly, “He didn’t have to take off without saying something first. I mean… I’m his _sister._ Don’t siblings tell each other stuff like that?”

Damon gave her a strange look, “You’ve only known Harry for a _day,_ Ariel.”

“That doesn’t mean anything!” She argued, “He’s still my _brother!”_

 _“Yes.”_ Damon nodded, but rolled his eyes, “But up until yesterday, he apparently didn’t know you _existed._ You can’t expect someone to trust you just because you’re _related._ Have you thought about what he must have thought when he bloody saw that you _had_ a family already? For Merlin’s sake, Ariel, that’d be enough to make anyone run!”

She stared back at him, both stunned, until an unexpected wave of guilt washed over her and she threw herself off the ground.

“That’s… that’s _not true.”_ Ariel whispered, “Severus is my only family… but so is Harry. I can’t be expected to _choose…”_

“You don’t need to.” Damon said softly, his hand locking around her wrist as she looked around wildly.

Hadn’t Ariel told him that if she could have chosen, she would have stayed with him at the Dursleys’? She had meant it with every fiber of her being, but at the same time, it felt like some kind of great betrayal. After hearing her father’s words, Ariel couldn’t help but question that vow. Harry was her family by blood, and probably the only person who would be able to understand her when it came to issues like their parents or Voldemort. But if Ariel _could_ choose, could she _really_ leave her father? It had taken so much for him to say what he had, and to know that he would have spent all these years alone… the idea was almost as unbearable as leaving Harry at the Dursleys’.

Had he seen her talking with her father last night? Ariel didn’t _think_ she’d flaunted her close relationship with Severus in front of Harry. That’s why she had waited until he had fallen asleep to go and speak with her father. But she’d had her childhood, had her family for the past eleven years. Harry hadn’t. Was it selfish of her to continue her life, or was it time for her to go and be what Harry needed her to be— _there._

She had to go and talk to Harry. _Now._

“Where are you going?” Damon demanded as Ariel began to scramble off the rock.

“I’m going to find my brother.” Her voice was firm—decisive.

“But you said he’s gone back!” He called after her.

“He did.” Ariel said over her shoulder, “And if he’s gone back, then I belong with him.”

* * *

Severus needed a drink, but since last night’s slip had ended with his mind deciding to take him down memory lane, he decided that was probably a _very_ bad idea, and smashed a small vase Dumbledore had given him three Christmas’ ago instead.

 _“Can I see her soon?”_ Green eyes had looked up at him on a face that had never looked so longing or defenseless in Severus’ presence before.

He’d wanted to tell him no, scream it from the bloody hilltops that _no,_ he _could not_ see Ariel for as long as Severus lived and breathed on this Earth.

 _“If she wishes it.”_ He’d replied and the boy’s face had fallen. But he couldn’t bring himself to say _“of course,”_ as though he’d willingly let that happen. Severus knew the girl would explode with joy at the idea that the Potter clone had asked for her, but the brat didn’t know that.

Severus glanced at the clock. Had he really been gone for _that long?_

He cursed aloud, stalking over to his daughter’s bedroom and jerking the door open, finding it dark and empty. He could only imagine what ridiculous thoughts had propelled her from the Headmaster’s office earlier that morning, and right now, he was _not_ in the frame of mind to find a lost, emotional child.

He simply stood there for a long moment, looking around at Ariel’s things. There was a surge of protectiveness and possession that seemed to flow through him, though Severus was quite sure he had always felt it. He’d always been defensive when it came to the girl…

He fell against the wall, letting himself sink against it as his heart seemed to burst inside his chest. His legs slowly bent beneath him, and Severus exhaled as he sat down, his back resting on the doorjamb. It was the first time in days that the floor felt still beneath him.

His eyes flitted unconsciously around Ariel’s empty, dark bedroom, seeing belongings that sent his thoughts into overdrive again. Now, with the passage of time and the silence of being alone, Severus realised that there had always been signs there all along that she was more like him than he liked to think… things he had just chosen to ignore, or at least to find alternative explanations with which to justify them to himself. Her aptitude for potions, her quick temper that seemed to be sparked by the most inconsequential of things, a complete disinterest in anything related to Quidditch were all tell-tale signs he had missed, or shut out, as Ariel was growing up.

The framed photograph of the young family that Ariel had placed on her bedside table caught his attention. He remembered so clearly the times she had begged him to tell her about Lily, the little she thought him to know, as well as the hurt he felt inside when she inevitably fell in love with the photograph that Albus had given her.  To know he had taken that happy family from her had eaten it’s way through him throughout the years… to know that he had nearly murdered his _own daughter,_ nearly gotten the girl he’d pledged his life to _killed..._

The truth nearly made him sick again, but he pushed it down, even farther beneath his feelings for Lily, and buried it deep.

Severus was even completely sure Lily would have told him, if she had even _wanted_ him to know. The entire world thought their darling was the daughter of a rich, well respected Pureblood family. Severus couldn’t blame Lily for that much… for their daughter to have the best life possible. But the notion that Potter had yet again marked what could have been Severus’ as his own made a white hot rage boil in his chest.

But Severus couldn’t tell Ariel, yet. He _wouldn’t._ He didn’t have the strength to shatter the life she had been yearning for all her life, the picture little picture that had been painted for her by Dumbledore and McGonagall and all the other adults in her life. Ariel deserved to live in a world where she wasn’t the daughter of a Death Eater.

Severus closed his eyes to shut out the image of that happy young family, only to see a different image appear in his mind. Ariel — those shining obsidian eyes mirrors of his own. Black eyes shining at him from behind the bars of a crib filled with tears… and then peeking over at him hesitantly from the arm of his chair, glaring angrily before they stormed away, wide and hopeful as he lifted her onto a stool to watch him brew, glittering happily and full of a certain emotion he’d never dared wish or think himself worthy of…

He thought of the picture of Lily on the mantle of the fireplace. He’d Charmed it so that everyone but he saw a boat, but it was indeed of Lily, taken from the wreckage at Godric’s Hollow. Not even Ariel saw the true picture, nor had Severus ever planned on revealing it, but she had questioned it on several occasions, wondering why such a random item be displayed. He’d often looked upon it as Ariel had grown up, finding that Lily’s green eyes watched the child adoringly, like she couldn’t be more satisfied with seeing her daughter happy.

What had he _done?_

A deafening bang brought him back to reality quicker than he’d have liked, causing his temple to throb again as if anticipating an oncoming storm. He poked his head out of the doorway, finding what he had been both expecting and dreading.

Ariel burst into his quarters like a girl possessed. She stopped short in the hallway, confused at finding her father sitting on the floor.

Tea. He needed a bloody cup of tea.

“Dad?” She demanded, speaking a little more loudly than Severus could deal with at that moment.

Severus massaged his forehead forcefully and tried to banish the growing migraine building inside his head. It seemed he wouldn’t be burning down the Forest in search of her today.

 _“Dad.”_ Ariel said, again, trying to elicit a response.

Severus stood himself up, and walked past her to the kitchen. Ariel followed in his wake, obviously frustrated at his lack of verbal acknowledgement.

“Dad. I _need_ to talk to Harry.” She stated, making the point as plainly as possible.

At this, Severus looked up from the steaming teacup that had appeared, like the house elves had heard his mind screaming for it.

“What?” He asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion, “Why?”

“Because he bloody well upped and left without saying a word, so I _need_ to talk to him to make sure he’s okay! _And_ I need to make him come back… I can’t _believe_ that Dumbledore sent him back to the Dursleys! After everything he knows! After everything I told him about them!” Ariel cried, exasperated and annoyed that she was having to literally spell this all out as if the necessity wasn’t obvious.

Severus knew what he was doing — playing dumb in order to make the situation less than what it was. But he’d already spent far too much time with the brat than he’d wanted, and so Severus was quite content in acting as though the boy’s sudden flight was nothing than a bad dream, another result of his drunken stupor.

Severus took his teacup and walked through to his study to sit in his leather armchair. Once again, Ariel followed. She opened her mouth to carry on with her crusade, but her father cut her off before she could begin.

“Potter is fine.” He said simply.

Her face reddened, and it looked like she was biting back a scream, and for a split second, Severus was reminded of the day that Potter had turned turned Lily’s hair green in the middle of Transfiguration.

“And nobody has _sent_ him anywhere, Ariel. Your brother _asked_ to return to your Aunt and Uncle, and he was accompanied back, not _ordered.”_ Severus sipped his tea while Ariel’s mouth snapped shut. “He’s not there any longer, so there is _nothing_ for you to worry about.”

“But he’s… wait… _WHAT?”_ Ariel shrieked as she nearly hit the roof, and Severus almost spilled his tea. “What do you mean _he’s not there any more?_   You mean he’s _run away_ from them as well? Where _is_ he? You’re all meant to be keeping an eye on him! What the — what the — _fuck!”_

At her outburst, Severus gave her the sternest glare he could muster at the present time. Merlin knew he wasn’t a saint when it came to the English language, but Ariel was eleven, and that word was not allowed in her vocabulary for at least another decade.

 _“Sit.”_ Severus ordered curtly, pointing to the sofa. “And calm down _right_ now.”

Ariel perched herself on the seat to fulfill the order, but certainly did not make herself comfortable or lose any of the attitude. She was ready for answers, and Severus was quite sure if he spent another moment talking about Harry Potter, he was going to move to Siberia.

“Your _brother,”_ Severus began, already disliking the way the word felt on his tongue, “is safe and fine and in a place away from your relatives.”

Ariel relaxed a little, but still did not get comfortable.

“Like you, I was not… _comfortable_ with Professor Dumbledore’s decision to allow him to return to Privet Drive, regardless of the true fact that he did _request_ to leave himself. The Headmaster did apparently arrange watchers nearby, _however,_ the boy needs to ease into wizarding life now that he knows of it’s existence.” Severus chose his next words very carefully. “I made arrangements of my own, and have escorted Potter myself to stay with a safe wizarding family who will host him until September.”

He watched her carefully. Ariel’s mind seemed to be going ten to the dozen. This was concerning.

“Where?” She asked, confused. “Which family?”

Severus sighed, recalling two familiar identical redheads that already spent far too much time during term with his daughter.

“The Weasleys.” He confirmed, shortly.

Ariel’s face softened in an instant, and he could practically see what she was thinking spelled out of her face; _yes — Harry was safe, and in a good place. That would be sufficient for the moment._ She sat back against the sofa as she took it all in.

“Erm… _you_ took him there, Dad?” She asked, figuring it all out and looking at him as if he had grown a second head.

He nodded, once.

“Why?” Ariel leaned forward.

“I could not allow him to stay in the _care_ of those abominable people, Ariel.”

“So, you went and rescued him? _Finally?”_

A second nod, much slower this time, as he winced. “In a manner of speaking, I suppose so.”

“And then… you took him to the Weasleys, and… left him there instead?”

Severus’ eyebrow raised of its’ own accord.

“I mean…” Ariel began, “I don’t doubt he’s safe with them, but… why didn’t you bring him back here to be with us? If he was willing to leave to go the Weasleys, that means he didn’t specifically want to be back at the Dursleys... that means…” Her gaze fell to her hands, “he just didn’t want to be with _me.”_

Her face crumpled with hurt at the realization she had incorrectly come to.

Severus stood and sat next to Ariel on the sofa, pulling her to him with one arm in what had become a very familiar position for them both over the years.

“No, child.” He hushed, stroking her scarlet hair from her forehead, long fingers lingering just a moment too long over her scar, “Potter does not want to be away from you. He just needs time. At the moment, he wishes to be away from Hogwarts, as it appears that it is all rather too much for him to deal with in one blow. His whole life has changed completely in the last forty-eight hours, Ariel. You’ve had an entire lifetime to know the stories and how to handle them. Readjustment will take time. For now, he is safe at the Burrow, and he can take the first step in acclimating himself to the wizarding world in an environment away from prying eyes that will judge his every move. That will come all too quickly once he starts at Hogwarts in September, so allow him the chance to take it all in and prepare before then. Once he arrives here properly, there’s no going back. Let him take one step at a time and learn about it all at his own pace.”

“He could take it at his own pace here with us, though…” She trailed off, quietly.

“No, he couldn’t, Ariel. It wouldn’t work, no matter how much you might want it to. Let him be.” Severus did his best to reassure her, without acknowledging that deep down he knew for certain that _he_ was the reason the boy didn’t want to return to them.

“Can I see him, while he’s there?” She questioned, lifting her head to look her father in the eye.

He paused before responding, “We’ll see.”

Ariel’s expression was exasperation, and rejection all over again.

“You promise me Harry is okay?” She asked directly, eyes set hard.

“My word, Ariel.” Severus confirmed, with total honesty.

Even if the girl and Lily, wherever she was, loathed him for keeping them apart, he was see that the boy was at least _safe._ He pledged to protect them, and protect them, however begrudgingly, he would.

Ariel stood up, rubbing her eyes

“I’m going to bed, then.” She announced, shrugging away from him.

“A fine idea.” He agreed, finding that he himself was exhausted, not just physically, but mentally as well. Awoken by blaring wards was not the way Severus had planned to spend last night.

“Can I ask you something, Dad?” Ariel asked as Severus stood, eyes wide and hopeful, but a hint of fear that made him want to bring her close again.

“Perhaps.” He replied loftily.

“Why do you call Harry _‘Potter?’”_ She looked him straight in the eye and Severus fought the urge to knock another vase from the wall.

“I call everyone by their surnames, Ariel.” He tried to roll his eyes, but found that he could not, and simply turned away and wished Albus would pop his head through the Floo and offer him a lemon drop or some other coma-inducing sweet.

“Not me.” She said, very matter-of-factly.

“Your brother is not you.”

“But he’s my _brother.”_ Ariel raised an eyebrow at him, and he nearly blanched at the painstakingly obvious resemblance he saw there. Sweet fucking _Merlin,_ how did it still hurt after all these years?

“Why does it _matter?”_ Severus demanded, exasperated and anxious to escape. He was rarely, if ever, nervous, and he loathed the foreign feeling. It made him feel vulnerable, and if Severus was anything, it was that, _especially_ in front of his child.

“Because you're my father and he’s my brother.” Ariel crossed her arms, “You sound like you have a mouthful of nails when you say it. I’ve noticed… and I’ve been thinking…”

He’d never once in his life wished for Albus to waltz into his quarters and inquire as to the whereabouts his knitting magazines, but now, he’d have traded a piece of his soul for it.

“Are you going to make me choose between you and him?” Ariel asked in a quiet voice, so low that Severus almost didn’t think he’d heard her correctly.

“What?” He said after a long moment of silence, mind spinning, _“What?_ Ariel, of all the abysmally foolish things to conjure up —”

“He doesn’t deserve to be alone if he feels like that. Somehow _I_ ended up with the great Dad and he got that… those…” Severus heard her voice thicken and his head nearly exploded all over the wall behind him. _Great dad —_

“Sweet Merlin, child.” He said under his breath, trying with all his might to stifle the crippling guilt that he thought would never crescendo as it had the night he’d found Lily broken on the nursery floor again.

“I just want him to know that if he needs me, I’m here.” She rasped, her small hands gripping his wrists, “But I don’t want to leave you either.”

“And you won’t ever have to.” Severus swore, though a tugging at the back of his mind reminded him that that may not be true, “Ariel, you are _my_ responsibility. Potter —”

_“Harry.”_

He gritted his teeth, “Fine. _Harry_ is not _your_ responsibility. The situation, I admit, is less than ideal, but for Merlin’s sake Ariel, you barely know the boy. You must —”

She tore away from him then, looking as though he had struck her, and it was then that Severus realized that he had said something far too soon.

“He’s my _brother.”_ Ariel whispered to him, but it sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

“You’re misconstruing my words.” He reached for her, but she backed away, like his hand was some kind of rabid animal.

Something flickered in those obsidian eyes he’d seen in his own many years ago, and Ariel fled the room, slamming her bedroom door behind her.

He smashed everything, even the picture on the mantle.


	15. Just Smoke

Ariel had left Harry alone. 

It was not in the sense that had originally crippled her with guilt. After a few days of solitude for herself, which had almost turned into weeks, until her father forcibly began to make her sit with him, her head cleared and she was able to sort out her emotions. And in that, she discovered that perhaps Severus and Damon had been right. 

And then a new fear crawled out from somewhere terrible that made her heart sink as though an anvil had been tied to it — what if Harry found that he  _ liked _ the Weasley’s  _ more _ than her? What made  _ them  _ easier to live with than  _ her?  _ If the problem had lied with the fact that Severus had loved and cared for Ariel and the Dursley’s hadn’t done the same for Harry… well, the Weasley’s loved  _ their  _ kids. Was it just because they were related? Was it because Severus hadn’t bothered to tell Harry anything all those years he had been watching over him?

Did Harry resent her? Did he not  _ want  _ to know her? What if after all the time with the Weasley’s, Harry felt he didn’t  _ need  _ her anymore?

Ariel approached Severus in one of the several days following, head hanging low and feet shuffling against the carpet her only way of letting him know she’d entered the room. He was leaning over a cauldron of what looked to be the early stages of Dreamless Sleep. The last thing she needed right now was for the  _ other  _ member of her family thinking she was mad about what he’d said several nights earlier. Admittedly, it had stung, but Ariel had been obsessing on it for days now, and Severus had never really been one for softening blows when it came to the truth. He was right… Ariel didn’t know Harry from a hole in the ground… she didn’t know what he did and didn’t feel. She’d taken everything at face value… 

If it hadn’t been true, her father wouldn’t have said it. He never lied —

Well,  _ that  _ was a lie — or was it denial? Severus had apparently been keeping many things from her for years… though he’d never lied  _ outright.  _ Did that  _ not  _ make it a lie, then?

Whatever it was, it made her head and heart hurt. 

Maybe Harry did need time — maybe Ariel had sprung too much at him at once. Merlin only knew  _ she  _ had been a bit frazzled by it, and her brother was receiving ten times the information that had been revealed to her. Ariel hadn’t understood it when her father and Damon had first said it, but now it was crystal clear that what she had done wrong was what she thought she had done right. 

If Harry needed space and time, then he would have it. Who was Ariel to say what he needed? Her father had said she barely knew him, and he was right. It took time for her to come to terms with that idea, but it was the hard truth. It didn’t mean she had to  _ like it,  _ but there was no denying it. Ariel Potter didn’t know Harry Potter, no matter how much she might want to. 

She had done the whole Sister-Thing wrong.

Ariel coughed to make her presence known. Her father’s eyes didn’t even flicker in her direction, but he stopped stirring the potion in the cauldron. 

“I’m not mad at you anymore.” Ariel said to him in a very quiet voice. “I’m mad at myself.”

Severus began stirring again and raised his head, quirking an unkempt eyebrow at her. “Yes, you’re demeanor towards me made that  _ abundantly _ clear.”

“I didn’t want to talk about it.” She mumbled, her eyes now glued to the floor, “I still don’t. I just wanted to let you know that I know it’s my fault. I wasn’t mad at you the other night when you said I didn’t know Harry. You were right… I just wasn’t ready to hear it.”

His eyebrows pulled together at this,  _ “Your  _ fault?”

“I pushed too much on him.”

Severus’ fingers flew up to his hooked nose at this, massaging forcefully, “Potter —”

_ “Harry.” _

“— is  _ not  _ upset with you, Ariel.” He shot her a nasty look at her interruption, “How many times must I say it before it gets through your thick skull?”

“He’s only overwhelmed because of everything I told him… I shouldn’t said anything until he was ready…”

“If the boy asked, than you can hardly blame yourself for giving him the answers.”

“He didn’t know any better.” Ariel argued. 

“And neither did you.” Her father snapped, “The situation was as much your fault as it was his.”

“Then why hasn’t he  _ written?”  _ Ariel demanded, “It’s been  _ days  _ and him or the Weasleys haven’t said anything… Fred and George say he’s fine, I’ve been asking them to write home and see…”

“He’s acclimating.” Severus sighed, obviously growing incredibly annoyed and bored with the subject.

“Then why can’t he just  _ tell me that?”  _ She shouted suddenly, “If he just  _ wrote  _ and bloody  _ told me  _ that he needs time, I’d be happy with that! But he’s just ignoring me… he left without saying goodbye…”

_ “Enough!”  _ Her father snapped back, “Do  _ not  _ raise your voice with me, girl! How many times can I say the same thing over again? The boy will write when he is  _ ready.” _

“And what if he’s never ready?” Ariel asked shrilly, “What if he doesn’t need me?”

“Then he is a horribly stupid individual and an obvious terrible judge of character.” He responded automatically.

She didn’t know why, but those words warmed her insides a bit before they made her feel even worse, somehow. 

Her father moved over to stand beside her, guiding her from the classroom and back into their quarters with a firm hand on her shoulder — he gave it a squeeze. For a moment, Ariel thought he was going to embrace her, but he simply prodded her back through the doorway. 

“Time.” Severus said quietly, the words a sigh and yet, spoken like a curse. “Give it time, child. Imagine if you were in his situation.”

Ariel put that thought somewhere where she knew she wouldn’t find it for a very long time. 

* * *

Severus gave Ariel a week, and then, he decided that Occlumency lessons needed to take place.

She was still sulking, though her mood had slowly begun to improve as the days passed by. Severus watched her closely at meals and during class. Bellatrix’s brat seemed to be putting all his efforts into trying to cheer her up, but they were to no avail. Potter hadn’t written to her, or tried to contact her in any way, and the days between the last time they’d seen one another were building up. Ariel seemed more and more resigned as the days dragged by — defeated. 

He’d asked Dumbledore to check on Potter himself, for Ariel’s sake, and the boy, according to She-Weasley, was fine. Severus had wanted to go himself — no, he hadn’t  _ wanted  _ to do anything Potter-related — he’d simply wanted to see for himself that Potter was doing well. Seeing Potter with his own eyes and telling Ariel the truth for once was… oddly tempting. Severus didn’t understand why, but he trusted that the redheaded brood was showering Potter with everything he hadn’t. 

When Severus had told Ariel, however, it had only seemed to upset her even more. Her face had twisted itself, like she was trying not to cry, and then she’d just nodded. The reaction had confused Severus — was that not what she’d wanted? For the boy to be safe and somewhere where he wouldn’t be unwanted? 

Perhaps it was because Potter hadn’t tried to contact her. Severus could have given less of a shit if the boy reached out to her, but  _ Ariel  _ did. It was all she seemed to care about. 

He knew the easy way this was resolved — if Severus went to see Potter himself and he assured him that he was welcome to see Ariel if he wished to, which he  _ also  _ knew Potter did. Potter’s longing was softer than the girl’s… it welled up in Lily-Eyes and made Severus’ chest shudder. The boy was only bold when he knew for certain what the other thought of him. He’d been defiant with Petunia and her husband from time to time because Potter had come to understand that they would never accept him. Potter tested Severus and had acted glib because he’d known that he was there for a reason, and that he wouldn’t stop coming, even if Severus made his reluctance abundantly clear. When it pertained to Ariel, however, Potter hadn’t seemed to have realized how much the girl adored him… depended on him, even.

The only person that knew how much they cared for each other was Severus — Fate had always loved fucking him over with irony.

He wondered why his love wasn’t enough for her. 

Severus had decided to send Ariel a note earlier on in the day telling her to spend the night in the dungeons, and she seemed to have guessed why rather quickly. He’d been putting it off, and so had she. Every time Severus had walked into her bedroom, she’d tensed, like he was about to deliver bad news. 

_ Why?  _ Ariel had sent back anyway, the note he’d sent her materializing back on his desk in puff of smoke.

_ Because I said so.  _ Severus penned back. He wasn’t about to debate Occlumency over a fucking note. 

_ If it's not important, I want to stay in Gryffindor Tower,  _ came her unexpected response. 

No, she didn't. Severus knew for a fact Ariel hated sleeping with the girls in her year. They were vicious little chits. 

_ You will come here after dinner, or I will come and get you. Do not let it come to that.  _ He almost ripped the paper with the quill as he underlined  _ will  _ and  _ get  _ twice. 

He could immediately sense her resistance the second he entered her bedroom later that same night. She’d flown in straight after dinner without a single word to him and slammed her bedroom door shut. Severus had ground his teeth and snapped a quill or two in half trying to restrain himself from ripping the door of it’s hinges are letting her have it. All of this…  _ misery  _ over the  _ boy.  _

Ariel was sitting on the bed, arms crossed, her face deadpan and focused intently on the adjacent wall. She appeared to be having a staring contest with it. 

“I suggest you lose the attitude,” Severus said in a soft voice, with just enough venom in it to let her know he was serious. “or this is going to be extremely unpleasant.” 

“It’s  _ already  _ extremely unpleasant.” She muttered. 

“You have no idea if you think you're  _ moping  _ counts as anything  _ close  _ to suffering. Or need I remind you that this is  _ mind  _ magic?” 

Ariel seemed to defrost a little at this. Severus tried to bite back another warning, swallowing it and wincing as it burned his throat. Her demeanor was due to him, really. How could he find it in himself to be cross when Severus had caused her suffering? 

He took a seat beside her on the bed, and felt a twinge of relief when Ariel didn't immediately pull away. 

“This… is not an easy area of magic.” Severus decided to begin with. “It may take some time before you’re completely comfortable with it. Don’t let it discourage you if it takes you a while to do every night — which you  _ must  _ do. I  _ will _ know if you aren’t.”

“So I’ll stop seeing Harry.” She finished his unspoken thought in a dejected voice. “Right?”

“Yes,” He said flatly. “So that you don’t hurt yourself, or him, for that matter.” 

“How do you know this’ll even work?” Ariel bit her lip, like she was trying not to smirk. “What if I can’t do it?”

_ Because Occlumency is a skill passed down through generations,  _ he thought to himself. His mother had practiced it — she’d been colder than he had ever been as a parent. It wasn’t an easily acquired talent. For Severus, it had been almost effortless, because he’d longed for so long to somehow repress everything — bury his rage and hurt and feelings for Lily. It had felt as natural as breathing. Severus briefly recalled how impressed the Dark Lord had been when he’d seen Severus perform — how he’d turned to Lucius and sneered at him, asking why  _ he _ wasn’t capable of pulling off  _ half  _ of what Severus could. 

“You’re a bright girl,” Severus said instead. “you’ll learn quickly.” 

Ariel blinked up at him, like he’d told her something outrageous. It made his throat tighten. 

“Firstly,” Severus lifted her chin with his fingers. “look at me, child — you need to get a feel for this before we start. It’s… a bit uncomfortable. Don’t resist me, or it  _ will  _ hurt, understood?” 

Her eyes flashed with uncertainty, and maybe even a flicker of fear. After a moment, Ariel gave him a timid not, and looked back into his eyes. Part of him wondered if she recognized her eyes on his face — if Ariel had ever ventured into that territory… but no, why would she? Severus had never given her a reason to. 

_ “Legilimens.”  _ Severus said, and felt Ariel let out a sharp gasp as he dove into her mind without hesitation. 

It never ceased to amaze him — the feeling of slipping inside of someone with such finesse. Granted, this was… not as pleasant, with his own daughter. He could feel Ariel mildly resisting, like a cord being pulled taut.  

Severus floated for a moment, allowing himself to assess what exactly to look for when he inspected her shields. It was… strange, to say the least, to be inside of a mind he didn't particularly feel comfortable with. When he’d done so as a Death Eater, there had been a purpose. There was one here, now, but Ariel’s mind was… 

It was warm, and filled with feelings Severus would never have expected. He felt her nervousness, and how uncomfortable it felt for her, and then he saw them — flashes of thoughts and emotions that whizzed by him as new thoughts formed, pulling up old memories… 

_ have you seen her she’s so strange she doesn't talk to anyone  _

_ if Harry were here maybe they'd think I’m like them  _

_ Dad thinks I’m just a —  _

“S-stop!” 

Severus pulled back just as he felt her begin to fight him. He blinked several times as the real-world reassembled around him, to find the girl trembling and half-glaring at him with wide, bewildered eyes. 

“I didn't like that very much.” Ariel said. 

“I know,” Severus ran a hand through her hair. “It won’t feel like that again… you needed to know what to expect.”

Ariel groaned. “You mean we have to do that  _ again?”  _

“I need to see your shields to ensure they're sufficient enough.” 

Ariel gave him a doubting glower. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. This was never going to work if she planned on resisting him the entire time. Shields came with patience and cooperation. If Ariel fought him because she was still upset over her brother, she’d never master it. 

“If you have something to say to me,” Severus rumbled, “you had best say it now.” 

She shifted into a crossed-legged position and grabbed her ankles with each of her hands. Ariel did not answer him — she only looked away. 

Severus tapped into the patience he pretended to have when it came to the girl. He knew it wasn't his place to be angry with her — not concerning this. Ariel was completely justified in her response to her brother leaving and being upset with Severus because of it. He hadn't wanted the boy here, and she knew it as well as he did. 

“Fine.” He snapped. “Don’t say I didn't give you a chance to speak your mind.”

“It wouldn’t matter if I did or not.” She shot back. 

They both glowered at each other. Severus was very nearly impressed with his daughter’s scowl — he couldn’t tell if it was Lily’s, or his own. Maybe a combination of both. 

“Potter isn't dead, or upset with you.” Severus said, grinding his teeth together between words. He got the feeling Ariel would think the latter was somehow worse. “If you want to speak with him, write him a damn Owl.” 

“It's not that easy.” Ariel muttered, resting her chin on her knees. 

“Yes, it is.” Severus sighed. 

“No, it’s  _ not.”  _

_ “Yes,  _ it  _ is.”  _

“No, it’s —” 

“This game is decreasing in its cuteness.” Severus snarled as he stood up. “You are not to fall asleep until you decide to stop acting like a petulant brat — these  _ mind games  _ end tonight, whether you like it or not.” 

“Mind games?” Ariel jumped off the bed and trailed after him as he stormed away. “I’m not doing this on  _ purpose,  _ and even if I  _ was,  _ how can I be sure you’re all taking care of him?” 

“Potter’s in good hands, I assure you. I’m sure the Weasleys are treating him like family.” His tone was flatter than he intended it to be. 

“But how do  _ I  _ know _?” _ Ariel pressed. _ “ _ He left without saying anything… for all I know, you could be lying to me about bringing him to the Weasley’s!” 

Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “And why would I do that?”

Ariel said nothing, but kept a lingering glare that strongly reminded Severus of a tiger preparing to pounce. Heavy silence hung through the air as they stared each other down. Severus studied her face carefully, seeing the hurt and sadness cracking through the mask of defiance. It was one of those emotions he’d never seen Lily wear — she’d never have looked at him with an inch of weakness. 

“Are you finally ready to try again?” His tone was cold as he broke the quietude. “Or are you just going to stand here contemplating your brother’s existence?”

She flinched. “Why does everyone act like I’m mad for… for being upset?”

_ You didn’t want me did you _

“Who is everyone?” Severus quirked an eyebrow. “I certainly don’t think you’re mad.”

“You  _ get _ mad every time I talk about Harry.” 

_ Because I hate that little urchin not because of you can’t you see that why doesn’t she see that _

“I’m not angry with you, child.” He tried to soften his voice, but it hardened. “Seeing you mope over the boy is… difficult to watch.”

Her face washed out — wiped itself clean. “I… m’sorry… I’m not…” 

Severus really did need to teach her some proper diction. 

“Child, I’m not looking for an apology.” He sighed. “Your behavior has been… frustrating, but… this isn't your fault.” 

Ariel turned away, biting her lip. “Why else would he want to leave?” Her tone had quieted. “I was the one who’d been with him the most. There’d be no other reason —”

_ I’m the reason,  _ said his Inner Slytherin.

_ You’re horrible,  _ said the Hufflepuff. 

“How many times,” Severus interrupted, his voice exasperated, his words slightly dragging, “do I have to tell you? Potter —”

_ “Harry.” _

“I know the boy’s bloody name.”

“Then why don’t you say it?” Ariel scowled at him.

“Do you hear me calling any other students by their first names?”

“No, but he’s technically not even a student yet —”

“ _ Potter,” _ Severus interjected, his teeth clenched tightly together, “had just found out that a different  _ world  _ existed. He didn’t know about magic, let alone the fact that he was a  _ wizard.  _ It was foolish of him to decide to leave, but I’m sure he’s now realizing how injudicious his decision was.” 

His head felt like it was going to burst. Why did he keep having this conversation? 

_ Because you’re incredibly selfish,  _ his Inner Ravenclaw supplied. 

“But why couldn’t he stay with  _ me —” _

“You  _ know  _ he couldn't have stayed here with you.” Severus snapped, wanting to slam his head again the wall. 

“ _ But —” _

Severus let out a sigh. He was done at arguing an argument that had already been argued. If he continued doing this, he was going to going completely and utterly mad. 

So he offered her all he had left — the one thing he hadn't wanted to give her. 

“Do you want me to take you to him?” Severus forced out. His muscles were clenching involuntarily. 

“What?” Her eyes tripled in size and her jaw practically dropped to the floor. 

“If this is… going to be an issue,” He bit out. “I’d rather it resolve itself now. I’ll take you up to Professor Dumbledore’s office and we’ll —”

“No!’ Ariel yelped, scuttling backward towards her room. “No, he… I can’t!”

Severus was gobsmacked, and well as pleased on some distant plane, by her reaction. 

“Why in Merlin’s name  _ not?”  _ Severus demanded, his temper sparking. 

“Because…” Ariel was looking everywhere but his face. “Because… I just can’t… he hasn't written…”

“That would be the issue, yes.” He agreed, rolling his eyes. “And visiting the boy would solve it. You don't need to write letters if you're speaking face to face.”

Ariel didn’t say anything, but stared down at the floor, twisting a piece of hair in between her fingers.

It hit Severus all at once — the girl didn’t  _ want _ to go. She didn’t really want it… there was a part of her, conscious or not, that was genuinely terrified of seeing Potter again, of being rejected… 

She wanted him to come to  _ her  _ this time. 

He found this… interesting. 

“Are you afraid of what he’ll say?” Severus asked quietly. 

Ariel opened her mouth, and closed it again. She pulled a few stray strands of hair that had fallen over her face back and straightened herself up.

“No.” She said quietly, although there was a certain defiance held in her tone. “You’re… you’re right. He needs to get used to things…. He needs space…” She practically choked the words out. 

Severus hesitated, not knowing how to move forward. The girl looked like she was about to burst into tears, and if she did that, he truly didn't know what he was going to do. 

“Can we… do the Occlumency thing now?” Ariel asked in a small voice, taking him by surprise for the second time that night. “I just want to go to bed.” 

He nodded, putting a hand on her shoulder. Ariel gazed up at him with watery eyes, like his words had struck a chord somehow deep inside of her she hadn't known was there. She buried her face against him as he prodded her back into the bedroom, lifting her onto the bed. 

“If we’re going to do this,” Severus tried not to make a face as he handed her a handkerchief — he hated tears more than anything. “you need to calm down. You must be in complete control of your emotions.” 

Ariel nodded, wiping away the tears that had fallen onto her cheeks. She stiffened her posture and took a deep breath. 

“I want you to imagine something impenetrable.” He told her. “Something you would use to hide behind that you knew no one would be able to get past. Don’t tell me — close your eyes and picture it in your head.”  

Ariel exhaled deeply through her nose and closed her eyes. When her breathing evened out, Severus removed his hand from hers. It wouldn't be hard — if Occlumency  _ had _ been passed down to her, she’d figure it out quickly, like he had when he’d been her age. 

“Now,” Severus whispered. “Put yourself behind them. Imagine yourself standing firmly, and keep them high.” 

She gave a brief nod, her mouth set in a tight line of concentration. Every moment or so, her eyebrow would twitch. Severus was briefly reminded of Lily’s doing the same when she was focusing on brewing a potion in class. 

It was several minutes before her eyes opened. Ariel had gone very still, her eyes blank and something just short of being cold. 

He hated seeing her look like that. 

“I don’t like it.” She said in a funny voice. 

“You’re not supposed to.” Severus smoothed back her hair. “It’s just for when you go to sleep, I promise. Let me look and make sure they’re strong enough.” 

“Do you have to?” Her voice was flatter than he’d ever heard it. “I think we can tell it worked.” 

He snorted. “I agree, but we need to be certain.  _ Legilimens!”  _

Ariel didn't gasp this time — she almost seemed to suck him in, eager to get this over with as much as he was. He felt nothing this time, just the whispers and shadows of thoughts, like they were hidden behind a tapestry. Severus prodded at the shields, letting them vibrate until he felt Ariel wince. 

He pulled back, cupping her chin. “They’ll do just fine. Well done.” 

Ariel didn't acknowledge him. She moved away and wrapped her arms around the pillow, that haunting look still plastered across her face. It was like wind moving across a wasteland. 

He felt nauseous. 

“If you need me,” Severus put a hand on her arm. “I’ll be awake for a while. Don’t meddle with the shields.”

She nodded to the wall.

He wanted her to respond to him, and felt fucking idiotic for wishing it. Why couldn't he just walk away without caring? Why did he insist on lingering… as if Ariel would open up to him  _ now?  _

_ That,  _ said his Inner Hufflepuff,  _ is the flaw in your shields.  _

* * *

Life went on at Hogwarts without Harry for the time being, leaving Ariel to find other things to occupy herself with.

It wasn’t hard, for Damon seemed to sense her heartache and tried his best to distract her from it all. It was sweet, in her opinion, and it was during this time that Ariel felt her final barriers towards him fall. They talked, probably more than they should have or when they were supposed to be studying. Her place on the rock in the Forest slowly became  _ their  _ rock in the Forest. 

It wasn’t hard — the girls in her year had heard about her incident with Damon and had begun to pretend like she didn’t exist. She hadn’t noticed it at first, her mind with Harry, but once Ariel began to try and establish a routine, it was abundantly clear that her Housemates weren’t her biggest fans. They hadn’t been to begin with — she’d suspected that she intimated them a little bit for some odd reason. Ariel had caught Cormac Mclaggen staring at her one day like she was about to spurt a second head. It then slowly dawned on her dawn that  _ Damon  _ was the new reason they’d pulled back even more. She grew increasingly aware of the looks they’d give her at meals or in class. Katie had even moved her bed away from Ariel’s and next to Sally’s. 

Ariel wondered if making more of an effort would help — she’d tried to partner up with Sally and Katie one day during Potions, but they’d up and left the table without a word when she’d crept over. She’d even tried to spend more nights up in Gryffindor Tower instead of her father’s quarters, but the girls would either leave the second she entered the dormitory, or huddle on one of the beds and pull the canopy shut. Ariel tried to tell herself that it didn’t matter, that she had Damon and that was all she needed, but for some reason, it still hurt. 

As the weather began to thaw, so did Ariel’s resilience to keep Harry from her mind, and the thoughts she had tried so hard to bury came creeping out. 

“Do you think he’s mad at me?” Ariel blurted out one day as she and Damon sat in the library studying for Charms. “Because I got a parent and he didn’t? Do you think  _ that’s  _ why he left?”

She didn’t have to tell him who she was talking about. Sometimes, they didn’t need words.

“I think you’d know if he was mad.” Damon said, his eyes not leaving the pages of the books his was skimming through, “As for your father, I doubt if Snape acted anything like himself, Harry wouldn't have envied it.”

“I think he saw us talking that night.” Ariel said, lowering her head in shame as Damon’s eyes finally glanced up at her, “Dad had been…  _ short  _ with Harry, but he’s like that with everyone. Harry had said he didn’t like Dad liked him, but he wouldn’t have agreed to go and get Harry or taken him to the Weasley’s if that were the case, right?”

“I don’t know.” He leaned forward, “You tell  _ me.” _

Ariel made a face and considered this. Severus didn’t like  _ anyone,  _ but she didn’t think he had a particular reason to dislike her brother. The thought of her father not liking her brother was ridiculous.

“He hasn’t written.” She drummed her fingers on the tabletop and shifted in her seat anxiously, “Why hasn’t he written?”

“Maybe he doesn’t know how to use an owl.” 

“I’m sure the Weasley’s have shown him how to use a bloody owl, Damon.”

_ “Maybe _ he hasn’t  _ asked.” _ Damon said lightly, “After all, he doesn’t know how wizards communicate.”

“Then should  _ I  _ write  _ him?”  _ Ariel asked, meeting his blue eyes when he finally looked up at her and sighed loudly. 

“What would you say?” 

She bit her lip, “I don’t know.” 

“Well then,” Damon went back to the textbook, “that would seem like a good place to start.”

He was right, infuriating as he might come across. 

And then, of course, there was  _ Severus.  _

He was different, or at least around  _ her,  _ he was. Her father had begun a seemingly never ending tirade on everyone else on the castle instead of her, docking points for stupid things that had made her cringe when she heard the other students fuming over it, going out of his way to be even ruder than usual to Dumbledore, giving ridiculously hard exams that had practically all of the Ravenclaws in tears. 

It was unusual, even for  _ him.  _

Ariel knew her father couldn’t stand anyone, but his terrible, borderline  _ cruel  _ demeanor had puzzled her greatly. Especially when he returned to their quarters every evening and spoke to her as though he hadn’t unleashed his hellish reign upon the castle’s inhabitants. If anything, Severus had become…  _ nicer.  _ Of course, he’d  _ always _ been good to her, but something was very different. It was in his eyes. It was as though all the light had been pulled from the stars and settled in them. 

It almost frightened her in a way, but Ariel did not know why.

* * *

**A/N: __**_Please review!!_


	16. The Dog Days Are Over

The school year ended, and Harry had not written. Granted, Ariel hadn’t written _either,_ but that was besides the point.

She had penned a million drafts, all of them currently in a box under her bed. They all sounded ridiculous, whiny, and didn’t sound right. They didn’t hold a fraction of what Ariel _really_ wanted to say.

When the third week of June rolled around, Ariel dreaded returning to Spinner’s End. Usually, she looked forward to it, liking the fact that she’d have Severus all to herself for the summer, but this year, it was different. Damon would be gone, and so would the distractions he and all her coursework had given her.

She’d said her goodbyes to Damon on the train, the one person Ariel felt she was leaving behind. They wouldn’t be able to write… Severus would never let her, and if Damon’s uncle knew…

He’d told her they had six more years ahead of them together. Two months would go by quickly.

Six years of Harry coming to Hogwarts. Would there be two months more of silence?

* * *

Another book went flying into the fireplace, ash flying out and coating the floor like a blanket.

Severus snarled, eyeing the bowl of Floo powder that teetered dangerously, just on the brink of falling and crashing to the floor, though it stopped at Severus’ icy glare, like he’d had the power to stop it with just a single look.

He stared at the fireplace, chest heaving up and down as he tried to steady himself. The last of the late July sunlight was shining through the clouded window in his study at Spinner’s End, making everything harsher and brighter and more than Severus could bear at the present moment.

Ariel was different, and the reason as to why was abundantly clear even though she had not once spoken to him about it.

Severus was going mad. Merlin knew he could hold a grudge for a lifetime, but the girl’s moping was never _ending._ He couldn’t take her feeling guilty and rejected over something that Severus knew he had caused himself, but knew how Ariel would react if he dare tell her anything…

His daughter’s never ending silence was his punishment for playing God with brother and sister, Severus knew that. That didn’t mean he had to _like_ it. Summers were his time of peace, the short escape he took with Ariel to get away from the cretins that made the castle their home for ten months out of the year, the staff that seemed to relish in pestering him with the most inconsequential of things, and the doting old man with the offending wardrobe that made Severus want to rip his skin off.

Yes, holidays were his only solace. In years past, Ariel had followed him about and watched him brew, but as she’d gotten older and more independant, she’d reserved herself to spending time reading in her room. This time was always spent cooped up and away from the prying eyes of the word, wizarding and Muggle alike.

But this year, it had vanished. Gone was Ariel’s usually cheery demeanor that seemed to make itself known as soon as she walked into the kitchen every morning. He’d often acted bothered by it, especially when she was but a toddler, but as she’d grown up and matured and realized Severus needed space, he almost woke up every morning looking _forward_ to seeing his daughter. But now, the girl walked the halls aimlessly, sitting in the living room and staring at the same page of a book for hours on end. Ariel didn’t even come to watch Severus brew anymore. If Severus hadn’t looked for her when he wasn’t busy, he might not have even known she was there.

He’d been determined to break her silence within the first week by not speaking himself. Severus had left her alone to wallow in her rejection, hoping to see some improvement in letting Ariel stew. But soon June passed, and then into July and there were no tell-tale signs of her mood improving, and that was when Severus had finally snapped.

“Will you _stop it?”_ He’d snarled at her earlier that night, slamming his fork down on the table and giving her his fiercest glare.

Ariel hadn’t even flinched. Her eyes stayed glued to the uneaten plate of food until she slowly looked up at him blandly, “Stop _what?_ I haven’t said anything.”

“That’s my _point!”_ Severus had yelled, pushing his chair back with a loud _SCREECH_ and towering over her, “For Merlin’s sake, child, you usually don’t _stop_ talking! You’ve barely said a single word since we’ve come home!”

She’d given him a half shrug and peeked up at him, “So what? You want me to _talk more?”_

“I want you to _stop_ sulking about the house!”

 _“I’m_ sulking?” She’d rolled her eyes, “You haven’t exactly been chatty either.”

His mouth had clamped shut and he internally cursed genetics.

So Severus had stormed off and left her alone, silently watching her from the hallway as Ariel had risen glumly from the table to sit in her room, without finishing her plate. He couldn’t even make her do her schoolwork — she’d finished it the first three days they’d been home. And he certainly couldn’t _punish_ her. She’d done nothing wrong — no, that fault lay with Severus and Severus alone.

This was not how he’d wanted to spend his final days before the Nuisance-Who-Lived made his permanent arrival at Hogwarts. He felt like he was living with a ghost. A sad, dejected little redheaded ghost with his bloody eyes and aptitude for a short temper.

 _“Incendio!”_ Severus snarled as his wand flicked at the book. The fireplace ignited at once, sending sparks flying at his heels as the fire’s flames licked at the book, which shriveled and blackened within seconds. 

“Dad?” There was knock at the door, “I smell something burning. Did you leave a potion on for too long?”

Severus’ head whipped towards the closed door, dousing the flames with a flick of his wrist and jerked the door open. Ariel stared up at him, still in her pajamas, which were a ratty pair of sweatpants and t-shirt that he’d tried to get rid of on more than one occasion.

“Are you alright?” She asked him, frowning at his expression. He could only imagine what he must look like right now.

“Just some trouble with the fireplace.” Severus said flatly.

“You’re lighting a fire?” Ariel quirked an unbelieving eyebrow, “In the middle of _summer?”_

They simply stared at each other as she awaited his response. This was the first time all holiday that she’d willingly approached him.

“Are you alright?” Severus asked instead of answering her question.

Ariel blinked, “Are _you_ alright?”

“I’m fine.” He said shortly, “Is that all, or would you like to go back to your wallowing?”

“Harry wrote.”

It was truly remarkable how two words could make him wish the vase had crashed to the ground.

“He wants to see me.” Ariel continued as Severus’ fingers curled around the doorknob like a vise, “A week from today. He says Mrs Weasley is more than happy to host...”

Severus struggled to keep the profanity that sat on his lips from flying out as his daughter looked up at him imploringly.

“Well?” She asked, searching his eyes for a response, “You said to give him time… and it looks like he’s had it… so, can I go?”

He couldn’t say no without revealing his blatant hatred for the Potter spawn, he knew that. But Severus couldn’t bring himself to say yes either. There was physical proof in this world that he had loved Lily and that perhaps, for a single maddening moment, she had loved him back, but now, Harry Potter was only a representation that Lily had loved _James Potter_ instead.

He couldn’t let the boy steal the girl from him.

 _Don’t answer,_ said the Slytherin in him, _if you don’t say yes or no, she can’t draw conclusions._

 _She’s smarter than that,_ argued his inner Hufflepuff.

 _She’s only eleven,_ the Ravenclaw rolled his eyes.

 _Going on twelve!_ hissed the Hufflepuff.

“Do as you wish.” Severus said instead.

Ariel blinked, “What does that mean? You _know_ I want to go, and now I’m asking if I _can._ I don’t know their Floo network…”

 _See?_ the Hufflepuff said smugly.

“Y… es.” Severus ground out, his head threatening to explode if she asked him to repeat himself.

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but apparently, the fact that Potter had written was the priority, giving him a small hug around his middle that nearly made him keel over before bounding back to her room.

“Thank you!” Ariel called brightly just as her door closed.

He slammed his own, and this time, he did not try to save the Floo powder that came crashing to the floor.

And then a sly look spread across his face.

* * *

Her stomach hurt the morning of.

Ariel had sat in bed for such a long period of time that he father had actually banged on the door to make sure she was awake. She’d woken up when the sunlight had lifted its way into the sky and made her room glow a warm gold. She wanted this day for _so_ long, and now that it was finally here, she didn’t feel prepared for it.

What if Harry had only asked to see her to say that he needed _more_ distance? What if Harry felt that he didn’t need her? It was stupid thought. Severus had told her that a million times… but that didn’t mean it got rid of the idea altogether.

She’d trudged into the kitchen to eat hours after Severus had checked on her. She found him sitting at the table, biting the inside of his cheek in a way that suggested he’d been there for a _very_ long time and that he was _very_ annoyed with her.

The cold command of _“sit”_ was closely followed by _“eat,”_ and they descended into quiet that was a combination of nerves and growing agitation.

“If you think you’re going _anywhere_ without your lunch,” He said as Ariel picked at her food, a brittle edge to his voice that made it bite, “you’re sorely mistaken. You’ve already skipped breakfast.”

Ariel shoved a forkful in her mouth and glared at him, only looking away when the food landed in her stomach, making it lurch nauseatingly.

“And lose the cheek.” Severus barked as he shoved away from the table and stalked away.

 _“Thanks,_ I’ll be careful, see you later.” Ariel said under her breath as she heard the door to his study close with more force than necessary. Her father was in a terrible mood it seemed, but Ariel didn’t have the energy to question why. He rarely needed a reason, if any, and today, all of her concentration was going into her brother.

Severus had left a note on the fireplace that stated the Floo network address for the Weasley’s on a piece of parchment. Ariel simply stared at it, waiting for the clock to strike one and to push herself off from her place on the couch and step into the Floo but having no idea how she was going to make herself do it.

Ariel knew she shouldn’t be this nervous to see her brother. There was definitely something wrong with her.

When the time finally came, Ariel tensed, waiting for her father to emerge from his study, but he didn’t. Instead, she sighed and heaved her weight from the couch and reach for the bowl of Floo —

She frowned, her hands grabbing nothing but air. The bowl of Floo powder wasn’t in it’s usual spot.

_“DAD!”_

Ariel bounced on the tips of her toes, scanning the surface where the powder had always been, and finding it nowhere in sight.

 _“DAAAD!”_ She called again, this time, impatiently.

He was already saying something angrily before he even came into Ariel’s sights, but again, her father’s mood was still the very last thing on her mind. With no Floo powder, that meant no Harry, and if she couldn’t see what Harry and find out what he wanted, Ariel was quite sure she’d go mad.

“What is it _now?”_ Her father seethed.

She continued to scan the room with laser-beam precision, “There no Floo powder!”

“How unfortunate.” Severus said, finding none of this odd as his figure filled the frame of the doorway.

“Where do you keep the extra?” Ariel demanded, “I’m going to be late!”

“We don’t have any more.”

She froze, her head whipping around to look at him, “What do you mean _we don’t have any more?”_

“I wasn’t aware we were running low.” Severus crossed his arms and leaned against the frame.

“What about in an emergency?” She quizzed, crossing her arms in the same manner he was and jutting out her hip.

Her father rolled his eyes, “What _kind_ of emergency?”

“I don’t know… anything could happen.” Ariel shrugged.

“Now you choose to become concerned with your well being.” Severus muttered, almost under his breath, and then, louder, “I regret that I do not have any _emergency Floo powder_ in case of some kind of sudden _danger.”_

“But there’s _always_ danger.” Ariel quoted him directly, waiting for him to object.

His lip curled back, but he did not respond.

 _“Fine.”_ She huffed, pushing past him and stomping into her room and wondering why of all the days, her father had chosen to be difficult on _this one._

There had been a day several years ago when little Ariel Potter had decided to steal things from around the house to see if Severus would notice. It had been rather funny at first, watching him double take when books and utensils and toothpaste went missing, but the day she’d dare steal some of his potions ingredients…. well, Ariel had ended up with an earful and a spot facing her bedroom wall for three hours. But in her little game, she’d managed to snag some Floo powder, and she’d kept it ever since.

Severus, apparently, did not seem to be happy that Ariel had some _“emergency Floo powder.”_

“Where the _hell_ did you —” His face reddened in a manner that told Ariel she’d better hightail it to the Floo and get out of there before she ended up losing her hearing when she returned with a handful of the magical dust.

“Bye, Dad.” She called quickly as she flew past and dove into the fireplace, missing his hands reaching for her by an inch and calling, “The Burrow!” with a rush of flames and smoke.

The first thing Ariel noticed was that she was definitely not at Spinner’s End anymore.

Her father was a quiet person, a mere shadow against the wall at times, barely making a sound unless he was angry. During those times, he almost made his presence _too_ well known, leaving Ariel to seek shelter elsewhere until he had calmed down. But _here,_ Ariel didn’t think that was possible.

It was suddenly very clear why Fred and George were the way they were, and Ariel broke into a curious grin.

“Ariel!” A bright voice called as she stumbled out of the Floo, “Oh, my dear, we were beginning to think you wouldn’t show!”

She rubbed some stray powder out of her eyes and followed the voice, finding that it belonged to a stout, red-headed woman with kind, brown eyes the color of chocolate.

“I’m sorry, Mrs Weasley.” Ariel apologized, offering a hesitant smile, “Dad couldn’t find the Floo powder.”

Confusion seemed to flash through her eyes before they softened, and then her face broke into a full smile, “Never mind that, you’re here now!” She took Ariel around the shoulders with firm hands and led her into what was the kitchen, “Everyone’s just sat down for lunch — I’m sure you’re hungry as well.”

Ariel went to say that her father had made her eat before he’d let her go, but saw the spread on the table and felt her mouth water.

“Famished.” She agreed.

And then she saw Harry and her stomach dropped to her feet, suddenly _very_ full from the tiny bites she’d taken earlier and tossing violently.

The first thing Ariel noticed was that he looked significantly different. Maybe it had been because of the moment and the fact that she was _seeing_ Harry for the first time, but five months later, Harry was not the same boy she’d found under the cupboard.

His hair was glossier and skin healthier, like he’d actually set foot into sunlight. Ariel realized just how pale her brother had actually been, but now, there was definitely a difference. He’d seemed to have grown too, which she noticed when Harry stood upon her entrance.

The green in his eyes was brighter.

“I believe you two have met.” Mrs. Weasley chuckled as she ushered Ariel into a seat on the bench.

Ariel swallowed loudly and nodded timidly, giving her little brother a small smile.

His body was tensed, still standing, emerald everywhere but her face, as though he didn’t know where to look. He seemed…

Why in Merlin’s name did Harry looked _scared of her?_

“Aren’t you going to say hello?” A familiar voice sang from what sounded like the room over, and something lifted a bit off the oppressive weight in Ariel’s chest.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, two identical shapes of red and limbs came flying into the kitchen and gripped Ariel in two bone-crushing hugs.

“Long time…” Fred said as Ariel lungs let out an involuntary gasp.

“No see!” George finished, sitting her back down in her seat, her hair now disheveled, “Where’ve you been, golden girl?”

“You know… _around.”_ She panted, “Nice to see you guys too.”

“Ol’ Snape lock you in the dungeons?” Fred ventured, sliding into the chair next to her.

“Fred _Weasley!”_ Mrs. Weasley warned.

“Not yet.” Ariel stuck her tongue out at him.

“Have you met our dear little brother?” George gestured to the other end of the table where Harry and a redheaded boy and girl were sitting, _“Ronniekins,_ meet Ariel Potter —”

“ — our _other_ favorite redheaded Gryffindor.” Fred continued, gesturing with an arm, “We like her more than we like Percy, I reckon.”

“Don’t _call me that!”_ The boy named Ron muttered, though more reserved than Ariel might have thought. It seemed he got _Ronniekins_ more often that not. 

“But only a _little.”_ George teased, ignoring his younger brother.

 _“Out!”_ Mrs. Weasley swatted at them, “Ariel is here for _Harry…_ not you two troublemakers!”

“Fair enough.” George sighed mockingly, grabbing an orange from the counter before both twins offered her a wink and barreled away elsewhere, “See you later, Potters.”

Siblings stared at each other from either side of the table, which seemed miles wide, both silent and owl-eyed.

It was a long pause of awkwardness as Mrs. Weasley bustled behind them. The boy named Ron and what Ariel presumed to be their younger sister exchanged a puzzled look.

She cleared her throat and fidgeted a bit, “Hey, Harry.”

“Hi.” He said back, his gaze between her and the tabletop.

“How’ve you been?” Ariel asked politely, wishing so many people weren’t in the room.

“Good… I mean, _great.”_ Harry corrected himself quickly, shooting a look at Mrs. Weasley’s back that Ariel thought almost looked apologetic, “I’m great.”

“That’s… _good.”_ Ariel said politely, smiling awkwardly before clearing her throat a second time before acknowledging the other Weasley children, “I’m Ariel… Fred and George have mentioned you, Ron. They said you and Harry might get along.”

“They’ve talked about you too.” Ron looked up eagerly, seeming pleased with her comment, “They said they’ve never met a girl who could catch one of their jinxes…”

Mrs. Weasley made an annoyed noise that Ariel heard, but the other three seemed to have not.

“This is Ginny.” He went on, jutting his thumb towards the other girl, “She’s a year —”

“I can talk for myself!” The girl cried indignantly, and for some reason, Harry’s eyes widened at this.

“Sure, _now_ you talk.” Ron rolled his eyes.

“I’m nine!” Ginny said over her brother.

“She doesn’t care, Ginny.”

“Shut up, _Ronniekins —”_

“Alright, that’s _it!”_ Mrs Weasley slammed a wooden spoon down on the counter, making all four children jump, _“Out,_ the both of you! Your squabbling is interrupting what is supposed to a _happy_ reunion between Harry and his sister!”

Ron ducked his head as Harry and Ariel’s faces blazed in embarrassment, “Sorry, Mum. Sorry Harry… Ariel… we’ll shut up.”

“Oh no you won’t! You two are going to pick yourselves up _right this minute_ and- —”

“We’ll go, Mrs Weasley!” Harry jumped up, “I wanted… I uh, wanted to show Ariel outside anyway.”

“Harry, dear, that’s not necessary.” She waved him off, “Ron and Ginny are perfectly capable of running off for an hour or so and entertaining themselves without you.”

“I’d love to see the yard.” Ariel jumped up and Harry looked relieved, a grateful smile sent her way that only she seemed to see.

“Well…” Mrs Weasley frowned, “If you’d rather speak out there…”

“Just a tour.” Harry reassured her, though his tone suggested that wasn’t at all the case. Ariel was getting the feeling that Mrs Weasley had wanted to be present when her and Harry finally spoke about his sudden flight and the five month silence.

He motioned for her to follow just as Mrs. Weasley began to argue again, leaving behind a wounded Ron and a pouting Ginny.

“Sorry.” Harry apologized quietly once the screen door shut behind them, revealing a marshy field that seemed to stretch for miles before them, “They mean well… but I thought you might want to…”

“I got it.” Ariel sighed, falling into step with him as he led her around the side of the house, “They seem like good people. I mean, I already guessed that much because of Fred and George...”

“They are.” He said earnestly, “They’re brilliant.”

“Good to know.” She said, though it came out shorter than she’d intended and Harry’s eyes dimmed.

“You can yell at me, y’know.” Harry said quietly, stopping.

Ariel wasn’t quite sure she’d heard him correctly. She halted as well, watching him fiddle with the stray fabric fraying at the ends of his shirt and the way his shoes kicked the dusty ground.

She could have sworn she heard her heart crack in her chest.

“I can hardly blame you for wanting some space.” Ariel said in a thick voice, “I just… I hope you know that if I could do things differently, I would have. I could never yell at you for doing what you felt was best.”

“I just want you to like me again.”

Her head spun.

“Wha… _what?”_ Ariel asked, reaching a hand towards him, but not entirely knowing what she planned to do with it.

Her brother looked confused now, green eyes full of trepidation, “It’s… it’s why you haven’t written, right? Because you’re mad I left without saying goodbye? It’s why I asked you to come today… I… I wanted to explain…”

Ariel knew the timing was awful, but she couldn’t help help herself. She burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. To know that all these months of gut wrenching guilt and thinking that Harry wanted nothing to do with her because she had scared him off with how she’d come across or because she had Severus, when _really,_ Harry had been thinking that Ariel, _ARIEL,_ was _upset_ with _him…_

Hurt? Yes, initially. But angry? _Never._

“What?” Harry asked, looking hurt.

“I… I’m not laughing at you!” Ariel choked out, struggling to compose herself, “I… just… Merlin…”

_“What?”_

“You’ve been waiting for _me_ to write!” Ariel snickered, “For _me!_ When all this time, I thought _you_ didn’t _want me to!”_

“Why wouldn’t I want you to write?” Harry demanded, “I never said I didn’t!”

“You never said _anything!”_ She sobered immediately, giving a small, humorless laugh, “I had no idea what you did or didn’t want.”

“So why didn’t you _ask?”_ Harry shot back, balling his fists at his sides.

“Because _you_ didn’t ask!”

“Why did _I_ have to ask?”

“Because _you’re_ the bloody one who left without telling me!”

Harry looked away at this and Ariel took a deep breath. She hadn’t been expecting _this._ Anger, but not _this_ kind. And certainly not miscommunication. Things had become so needlessly complicated when it had been only fear…

_(and her father)_

“I left without telling you because I didn’t want you to think you had done anything.” Harry said in a small voice that she’d heard last when he’d exited the cupboard, “It’s not you… it’s _me._ You… you’ve grown up with it and a family —”

 _“You’re_ my family.” Ariel interjected, “I _told_ you that!”

“But not your _only_ family.”

“Severus is…”

“Dumbledore said I wouldn’t have been able to stay anyway.” Harry argued, “He said that —”

“I don’t give a damn about what Dumbledore said!” Ariel snapped, “I care about what _you!_ I want to know why _you_ thought you couldn’t talk to me before leaving. If time was what you needed… I… you could have told me. I wouldn’t have liked it, but I would have understood.”

“Because I don’t know myself!” He shouted suddenly, making Ariel jump, “Because I woke up that morning and found out that I was bloody famous and had a sister who had lived a completely different life away from me! I couldn’t just… what? Did you expect me to stay with you and Snape? He came all those years and never said a word to me about _anything!”_

“I expected to have my brother with me.” Ariel tried to lower her voice, “Maybe not all the time… I think I knew that…

“At least you _could_ expect!” Harry’s eyes blazed, “At least you knew you had something to wait _for._ I didn’t! I thought that I’d be stuck with the Dursley’s until I was seventeen… and then they’d kick me out or whatever they planned… I had no clue you even _existed_ until I found that picture. You _waited._ I _wanted,_ alright? That’s why I couldn’t say goodbye.”

She was stunned. She stood there, mouth partially opening, staring at and him and a bit uneasy.

“Is there anything else you want to get off your chest?” Ariel asked plainly, saying each word slowly and clearly.

Harry squared his chin, “Your Dad is a git.”

She snorted, “You didn’t have to not speak to me for months for me to figure that out. I know he is.”

The anger seemed to slide off of him at her words, his shoulders lowering themselves and he sank to the ground.

Neither of them said anything for a long time. Ariel focused her thoughts on the horizon, trying to collect herself and organize what to say next. She didn’t know if she could even _talk_ right now without blabbering like a complete idiot.

Imagining a life with her brother tore her in two directions. On one hand, she’d have been with Harry with since the beginning — there was no denying that was the most important thing. But at the same time, that meant Severus wouldn’t have been her father. Hadn’t he say that without her, his years after the war would have been terrible? How could she regret _that?_

“Snape said you were hurt.” Harry whispered, breaking Ariel’s concentration, “I thought you wouldn’t want to talk to me until you were ready.”

“I thought I overwhelmed you.” She rasped back.

“I… I was. It wasn’t you…” He looked away and Ariel took a deep breath.

“Just because I have another father doesn’t mean you aren’t just as important.” She bent down to look him in the way, “You and I… Mum and Dad didn’t die for us for us to not be together. We’re all we have left of them.”

Harry’s eyes were glistening and soon enough, Ariel felt her own begin to prick.

“How do you miss someone you’ve never met?” He whispered.

They sat on the ground and stared at it for the next hour, letting the wind talk and the tall grass of the marshy land whistle through the still air. Even all the commotion inside the Weasley’s house seemed to have stopped.

“We’ll give it another try, then?” Harry looked up finally, green eyes now hopeful.

Ariel ran her hands through her hair and sighed, “What do you suggest?”

He quieted then, his expression calculating. “When I start in September… we’ll be together.”

“You want to wait that long?”

“It’s only another month and a half.”

“We’ve been separated _ten years,_ Harry.”

“We’ll actually write this time.” He gave a joking smirk that made Ariel snort again.

“So you still need time.” She said quietly, extinguishing all humor from the situation.

Harry looked away, out at the field, “Yeah.”

“Then September it is.”

His eyes went back to her, so large and filled with an emotion that Ariel felt flooding through herself as the anticipation dawned on the two of them. And then his lip trembled, though just a bit, and Harry slowly inched his way closer to her, pausing and watching her, as if waiting for Ariel to object.

The hand that had reached for him before suddenly knew what it was doing, and then, their heads were leaning against one another as the sun began to lower itself it the sky. The silhouette of some kind of bird was making it’s way towards the Burrow, which Ariel realized, was an owl returning with a note. 

“I’d love an owl.” Harry sighed longingly, “A white one, maybe. I saw one a month or so ago when Mrs. Weasley took me to Diagon Alley.”

Many miles away, a bodiless spirit set his sights on finding himself a host, and something in the world shifted that no one seemed to notice.


	17. Crossing Destiny

**Philosopher’s** **Stone**

_“Sometimes letting things go is an act of far greater power than defending or hanging on.”_

_— Eckhart Tolle_

* * *

 

Not once in Ariel’s twelve years on this Earth had she been more excited to get to Hogwarts. The morning arrived at an agonizingly slow pace, the sun creeping it’s way across the sky as Ariel watched from her window, the first rays of sunshine hitting the pane her signal to begin packing.

When her father’s fist banged against the door at seven that morning, Ariel flung open the door before he’d even finished, meeting his puzzled gaze with sparkling eyes and a heaving chest.

“I’m awake!” Ariel breathed, “Don’t worry.”

“I can see that.” Severus said in an odd sort of voice that clearly told her he wasn’t happy about that.

“I’ve been packing for a while now so that we won’t be late.” She flounced away, throwing her woolen cloak in the trunk atop her robes.

“Since when have you _ever_ taken tardiness into account?” Her father asked suspiciously.

“It’s Harry first day!” Ariel said, rushing into the bathroom to grab her hairbrush, “We have to make sure we’re there before him! Do you think we could get there a little early?”

There was no answer.

“I just want to make sure I get a seat with him.” She explained as she ducked her head under the sink, grabbing several little items and surveying the rest of the bathroom to make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything, “Just by ten minutes or so… is that okay?”

Still no reply… not so much as a peep.

“Dad?” She poked her head out of the doorway.

He wasn’t there anymore.

What the —

Ariel marched out into the hallway, heading whipping to either side and finding that her father’s bedroom door was now closed. She walked over and knocked thrice.

She could have sworn she heard something crash.

Ariel knocked again. The door opened.

Severus’ face was blank, but his body language was anything but. He looked tense, the veins in his neck sticking out and pulsating in a way that suggested he was about to spontaneously combust. She didn’t say anything, but simply stared up at him in confusion. At twelve years old, Ariel knew by now that if her father looked that scary, it was best to let him speak first.

“I have some last minute packing to do.” Severus said in a voice that made her shrink away, “I trust you can finish yourself?”

She nodded jerkily, not wanting to set him off in any way, and the door closed in her face.

Adults were _weird._

Ariel sighed and blamed her father’s suddenly ignited temper on the fact that he would have to teach children a day from now and resigned herself to packing by herself. She was mostly done at this point, but with Severus in his current state, Ariel had no clue when to expect _him_ to finish.

She made a face at the her father’s bedroom door and walk back into her own, making sure her father could hear it as she closed it.

Severus finally stalked out at twenty to eleven, finding Ariel sitting patiently in the living room, but as bright eyed and bushy tailed as she had been when she’d first woken up. He said nothing to her as he offered his arm, her trunk in her right hand as her left took the sleeve of his robes.

The Platform seemed to be busier than usual that day, but Ariel didn’t let that stand in her way. She was on a mission, and Harry was her prime objective. Before she could remember that her father was with her, Ariel took off and began weaving in and out of parents and kids and trunks, looking over the sea of heads for a family of ginger-haired kids and one raven haired boy with a scar identical to hers.

When she finally paused to rest, Ariel felt a hand close around her shoulder so tightly that she let out a little cry and spun around.

“Do — not — move — another — _muscle.”_ Her father hissed in a very, _very_ dangerous voice.

“I’m sorry —” Ariel tried to get in, but nails dug into her skin and she stopped.

“Stop talking.” He growled, “I don’t want to hear enough word out of you until my heart rate slows and blood pressure stabilizes. Don’t you _ever_ take off like that in public, again, _ever.”_

Her mouth clamped shut as she gripped her trunk tightly in her hand, but just as she went to try and calm her nerves, that’s when Ariel caught sight of them.

They were impossible to miss. A group of redheads, hair a shade brighter than hers, all in the same robes that look older and more worn than Ariel was accustomed to were clumped together. And there, standing among them, a cage with a snowy white owling partially blocking her view of him, was her brother. It looked like his glasses had been changed. The horrid little things he’d been wearing were gone.

Ariel’s eyes shot up to her father, his expression still borderline homicidal, but it seemed he’d caught sight of the Weasley’s as well. His teeth bared as she widened her eyes at him, and she flew towards them with a single command of _“go”_ from Severus.

She took off at lightning speed, nearly screeching to a halt in front of them. Harry caught sight of her, his face stretching into a grin.

“We were just wondering where you were!” George announced as Ariel set her trunk down.

“Sorry, it’s like a zoo here.” She looked at Harry and beamed, “You got new glasses!”

He took off the spectacles and lifted them up so she could get a better look, “I stopped by a shop in Diagon Alley. They tried to get me to use some kind of magical contacts, but I didn’t like them much.”

“They look good on you.” She inspected them closely.

“Thanks.” Harry looked pleased at her compliment, “I can see better now, too. I never realized how horrid the ones Aunt Petunia got me were.”

“Alright, alright,” Mrs Weasley shooed them all apart, “On the train, all of you! It’ll be leaving any minute and I’m sure you’d like a compartment together.”

They all nodded as Harry lifted up the cage with the owl in it, who was chirping happily and the three Weasley boys began to kiss their mother goodbye. Ariel turned, expecting her father to be towering behind her, but got a nasty shock instead.

He was nowhere to be found.

Frowning, Ariel craned her neck and tried to see past the moving bodies and mess of animals and trunks as parents began saying goodbye to their children. But Severus, it seemed, had left, not bothering to follow Ariel before she boarded.

She would be seeing him in only a few hours anyway, but it was hard to ignore the sinking feeling that accompanied this unexpected development.

Harry saw her watching the crowd, a look of dejection on her face. “Where’s your Dad?” He asked as he shifted the cage.

Ariel whirled around and shook her head, “He left… kind of silly to say goodbye when I’ll see him soon anyway, right?”

“Right.” Harry agreed, though his green eyes filled with suspicion.

And so with a smothering hug for Ariel and Harry _(especially_ Harry) from Mrs Weasley, all five boarded the train. Fred and George went to go and sit with the other fourth years, while Ariel, Harry, and Ron found an empty compartment and took their seats.

“What’s her name?” Ariel gestured to the owl and tried to hide her knowing smile. She should have sent a bigger tip to Eeylops.

“Hedwig.” Harry said proudly, “Someone sent her as a birthday gift… though I don’t know who. The note didn’t say.”

“Pity.” She said, reaching her fingers through the bars to pet to bird, who nuzzled her back and chirped happily, “She’s gorgeous.”

“Strange, is was that thing is.” Ron eyed the bird with unease, “Every bloody time I go to pet her, she bites.”

“Sounds like someone doesn’t like you.” Ariel teased.

“Or Harry just has a mad owl.” Ron muttered, unwrapping a sandwich he’d carried onto the train.

“Ron, mate, we’ve just taken off.” Harry looked at him strangely, “Shouldn’t you wait to eat?”

“What’s the difference? I’m hungry _now.”_

Her brother rolled his eyes and Ariel grinned.

The Hogwart’s Express began to pick up speed and so did the conversation between the three of them. Ariel soon learned to her absolute _horror_ that Ron seemed to have turned her brother into a Quidditch nut. She immediately changed the subject upon _that_ little discovery, instead, turning it towards what they should be expecting in terms of Hogwarts. At some point, Ron even tried a little spell of his own — turning his rat, Scabbers, yellow, but it didn’t work.

And while all of this was happening, kids were passing by their compartment, pointing and them and exclaiming loudly to their friends. Ariel tried to tune them out, but it was abundantly clear that the entire train was talking about the fact that _both_ Children-Who-Lived were coming to Hogwarts. One girl in particular had pointed to their forwards, at their matching lightning bolt scars that made Harry turn bright red and Ariel scowled at the window. Ron seemed curious about all the attention, that is, until a bushy-haired girl decided to actually _open_ the door.

“Have any of you seen a toad?” The girl said in a voice that made Ariel’s teeth set. “A boy named Neville’s lost one and we’re searching the train for it.”

They all looked at each other, and then back to the girl, and shook their heads.

She was just about to close the door when her searching gaze landed on Ariel and Harry’s foreheads, and her amber eyes lit up in recognition.

“You’re the Potters!” The girl declared loudly, extending an index finger in their direction.

Now this time, only Ariel and Harry shared a look. Ron looked miffed.

“That’s right.” Harry answered, “And who’re you?”

“Hermione Granger.” She said very matter-of-factly, “And your name’s Harry.”

Ariel leaned back in the seat and thanked Merlin that no one in her year had been like _this._ She had thought it pathetic to hide away from everyone her first year, but if someone had been _this_ bold, Ariel would’ve jumped out the window.

“And you’re Ariel.” Granger-Girl continued, looking at her and squinting her eyes in what appeared to be concentration. “You don’t _look_ like brother and sister.”

Before Ariel could open her mouth and make a smart comment back, Ron cleared his throat awkwardly, clearly growing annoyed that this Hermione Granger hadn’t asked him what _his_ name was.

He’d gotten her attention. Granger’s eyes narrowed and landed on him, and then, the rat in his lap.

“Who’re you?” She asked.

“Ron Weasley.” He shot back, “And who’re _you,_ thinking you can just waltz in here and start talking to us?”

“I wasn’t talking to _you.”_ Granger quipped, “I was talking to _them.”_

“Didn’t sound like much _talking_ on their end.” Ron snorted, “Don’t you know when you’re not wanted?”

The girl turned a bright crimson, backing away from the door of the compartment and about to open her mouth to retaliate when Ariel promptly stood and slammed it closed in her face.

Ron barked a laugh while Harry smirked, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Granger-Girl was sputtering in the hall before she promptly turned on her heel and stalked away, leaving the three of them in peace once more.

But it wasn’t for long, because apparently, these first years were a brash bunch.

A pale boy with even paler blonde hair slicked back tore them away from their debate about Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, sliding the door open as though it was some great honor that he had bestowed his presence upon them. He had two boys behind him, thickset and a bit cross-eyed. Ariel almost giggled at the scene, for they looked like the pale boy’s bodyguards, but something in his grey eyes flashed that reminded Ariel of someone she knew.

“Is it true?” He asked, looking between Harry and Ariel, “They’re saying all down the train that Ariel and Harry Potter are in this compartment. So it’s you two, is it?”

“Yes.” Harry replied. Ariel peered over at him, finding that his eyes had hardened a bit.

“My name’s Malfoy.” The boy introduced himself, puffing his chest out a bit, “Draco Malfoy.”

Ariel almost choked on the jelly bean she’d thrown into her mouth. _Draco? This_ was Draco? Then that meant…

Where the bloody hell was Damon? In days that had passed during holiday and her thoughts on today, all her of energy had gone into Harry. She’d completely forgotten about her friend. Not that she would have looked for him at the platform, for if she had, Ariel would most likely have run into Lucius, and if that happened, her father might have begun docking points before the year had even started.

Draco Malfoy was now looking at her, looking incredibly offended by her outburst, “Think my name’s funny, do you?”

She blinked, “Excuse me?”

“I hope you have more sense than her.” Draco turned towards her brother, “I’ve heard tell that she hangs about the Weasley’s and other Gryffindors like them. Blood traitors, the lot of them. You’ll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there… although,” His nose scrunched as his grey eyes flitted to Ron, “it seems you’ve already found another Weasley. I can tell by the freckles and the red hair.”

Ariel and Harry jumped up simultaneously, fury igniting in her chest at his words.

“I think I can tell who the wrong sort are my myself, thanks.” Harry said coolly.

Draco Malfoy didn’t go red like everyone else in the compartment, but a pink tinge that barely registered in his cheeks.

“I’d be careful if I were you, Potter.” He said slowly, “Unless you’re a bit politer you’ll go the same way as your parents. They didn’t know what was good for them either.”

“Who the _hell_ do you think you are?” Ariel snarled, gripping her wand tightly in her hand, “Where do you get off talking about our parents like that? Like your Death Eater father is so much better?”

The two boys behind Draco and Ron let out a collective gasp and Draco’s face changed faster than a summer storm.

Before he could retaliate, a familiar, loud voice cut through the tense silence, and the young Malfoy’s furious expression quickly melted away.

“Draco, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Damon’s voice demanded, “I told you to stay in the front of the train. Your mother said I was to keep an eye on you until we got to Hogwarts and I can’t do that unless you stay put.”

He came into view, looking annoyed and put upon, until he glanced into the compartment and saw Ariel. His cobalt eyes lit up like a flame and he pushed aside his cousin and the two other boys.

“I’ve been looking for you!” Damon said, sounding breathless, “Where’ve you been?”

“Oh, you know.” Ariel kept her glare focused on Draco, _“Around.”_

He frowned at her expression, looking between her and Harry before his face darkened.

“What did you do, Draco?” Damon asked in a low, warning voice.

“You… you _know_ her?” Draco gasped, sounding horrified, “B-but you’ve never told Father…”

“What did he do?” Damon glanced at Ariel.

She was about to answer, but Harry was faster.

“Nothing.” Her brother said, sitting down slowly, “He was just being a prat, is all.”

Draco sputtered and Damon silenced him with a look.

“You can leave now.” Harry offered, a command in there somewhere.

Draco Malfoy looked like was about to explode, but slammed the compartment door shut and strutted away, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum on his flanks.

“What did he say, Ariel?” Damon asked once they were out of sight, “You looked ready to murder him.”

She tried to block out the red shimmerings around the edges of her visions, waving him off as she fell back into her seat, “It’s like Harry said… it was nothing. He was just being a rude little —”

“Is he your brother?” Harry asked quickly.

Damon made a gagging sound and sat down next to Ariel, “Gods, no. Just my cousin. Isn’t he delightful?”

“Endearing.” Ariel said flatly, crossing her arms across her chest and trying to drill a hole into the window.

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” She heard Damon say to Harry, “I’m Damon… we met your first time at Hogwarts.”

“I remember.” Harry sounded relieved, “Ariel’s mentioned you.”

She cringed, feeling Damon’s eyes light up behind her and already knowing that she’d never hear the bloody end of that little tidbit.

“You look like a Weasley.” Damon said in a tone that was very unlike the one Draco had used when he’d said it.

“Is that a problem?” Ron snapped, as Ariel predicted.

“Not at all.” Damon said lightly, “Is that a yes?”

She turned, finding that some of the redness in Ron’s face began to fade, and he leaned back in the seat with a wounded and disgruntled look on his face, “Ron Weasley.”

“Pleasure.” Ariel rolled her eyes at his tone and turned to face them, finding that Harry was watching them both with an odd expression. Ron looked wary.

“So,” Damon rubbed his hands together, “What have I missed?”

* * *

Perhaps it was the fact that Harry was not overwhelmed with talk of dark wizards and dead parents, but tonight, Hogwarts looked different.

He looked upon at the lights as he and Ron hopped off the train, trying to memorize every single one. He wanted to remember this moment, know what it felt like to surrounded by strangers and not yet known as The-Boy-Who-Lived. Mrs Weasley had warned him before they had gone to Diagon Alley that some of the students, especially the Purebloods, might take interest in him, but to ignore it. She’d promised the excitement would blow over in due time. Surely if Ariel had dealt with it for an entire lifetime, than Harry could deal with it now.

“I’ll see you later, then?” Ariel said, hesitating a bit as they stopped in the midst of the throng of students getting off the train.

Harry blinked, “Where are you going?”

“First years take boats. It gives the rest of us time to get situated before you all get Sorted.” Ariel explained, “Everyone else takes the carriages up to the school.”

“Oh.” He nodded, “Right. I um… I’ll see you inside.”

“You’ll be fine.” She gave his arm a comforting squeeze and went to join Damon, was was waiting towards the end of the train, “I’ll save you a seat, alright?”

“Gryffindor!” Fred declared as he and George glided past them, “Where the brave lie at heart!”

Ariel rolled her eyes, “They’re going to lose us points before we even get inside Hogwarts. I can feel it.”

“Firs years!” A great, booming voice called over all the bustle of trunks and students talking excitedly, “Firs’ years, over here!” 

“You should go.” Ariel motioned to the great towering figure that Harry recognized at once, “Get a seat with Ron before you get stuck with Draco.”

Harry cracked a smile at this, gave a small wave and turned towards where Hagrid was, an even bigger grin breaking across his face when the groundskeepers twinkled at the sight of him, neither seeing his sister’s worried expression.

“Harry!” Hagrid said, waving his hand and holding up a lantern with the other, “Get here alrigh’? I’m sure yer sister helped yeh along.”

“She met me at the station.” Harry said, finding his place next to Ron in the front of the small crowd that had gathered in front of him.

“Harry?” He heard a voice somewhere nearby whisper, “As in Harry Potter? The-Boy-Who-Lived?”

“I think so. My Dad told me all about him…” another replied.

“You okay, mate?” Ron asked as Harry tensed.

“M’fine.” He mumbled back.

“Alrigh!” Hagrid shouted as the other first years began to quiet down, “Stay close and be quick about it! Four ter a boat — no more than that or yer goin’ ter end up with the merpeople tonigh’!”

 _“Merpeople?”_ Ron asked, sounding uneasy.

“Ariel said no one knows for sure.” Harry reassured him.

“How can they _not know for sure?”_ Ron whispered as they began to walk, a cool September breeze sweeping through their hair and pushing them forwards, “And how come you didn’t tell me your sister was friends with a Malfoy?”

“What’s wrong with the Malfoys?” Harry frowned, “Well, except for Draco, maybe. He seemed like a right prat.”

“The Malfoys aren’t good people.” Ron’s face darkened, “My Dad works with Lucius — that’s Draco’s dad — at the Ministry. Says he avoided getting rounded up will the rest of You-Know-Who’s followers because he’s got money.”

Harry cast an uneasy look behind him, watching his sister and Damon begin to talk amicably as they walked through a set of giant iron gates.

“But then again, if Snape raised her…” Ron shrugged, “I guess it would make sense that she’s friends with members of his House.”

Harry shushed him. “You’re not supposed to talk about that, remember? Your mum said… listen, even if people don’t _know,_ wouldn’t it make sense it she was friends with people in his House anyway?”

Ron made a disgusted face, but before he could respond, Hagrid began waving the first years forward. Neither of them moved at first until Draco broke through somewhere in the back of the crowd, shoving his way past Harry and nearly pushing him over.

“Sorry, _Potty.”_ He sneered, “But those of us that know what we’re doing should really lead.”

“How is Damon related to _that?”_ Harry muttered, watching Malfoy scrambled into a boat.

“Good question.” Ron said as he steadied him, “You sure did tick him off quickly.”

“He was being a prat!”

“I know, mate.” Ron assured him, “I was there, remember?”

Harry paused for a moment being nodding and they clambered onward, keeping their eyes on the giant head that led the way.

The boat right was too short, in Harry’s opinion. He was too busy savoring every little detail; the way the moonlight shimmered on the water… how deep and blue the water looked, even at night… the lanterns at the tip of their boats and how they lit the procession ceremonially… how Hogwarts looked against the dark sky… and most of all, how he felt there and then.

Hagrid led them to the Great Hall, where they were passed off to a woman with piercing eyes and a tight bun named Professor McGonagall who Harry could have sworn gave him the tiniest of smiles and a nod. He had a feeling this woman did not do that very often. The name rang a bell — Ariel had probably mentioned her.

“My brother say she’s strict.” Ron whispered to him as they were led into the Great Hall, “But that she’s brilliant. She’s Gryffindor’s Head of House.”

Harry nodded, noticing that the bushy-haired, bossy sounding girl was watching them.

The Great Hall looked grander than it had the day Ariel had showed Harry around, thousands of candles floating midair and the ceiling a starlit sky that had all the first-years, not just Harry, gaping up at it. The stopped at the very front, where Headmaster Dumbledore sat in turquoise robes that made the blue in his eyes less pronounced.

And then Harry noticed Snape.

He was sitting at the very end of the table that all the professors were sitting at, looking annoyed. His arms were crossed tightly across his desk and head bowed, though it snapped up once his coal eyes caught sight of Harry. His skin was sallow as ever, like he’d never once seen sunlight. He was sitting next to professor with a large, purple turban on top of his head. If Harry hadn’t been so preoccupied, he might have found the turban-wearing professor rather funny looking.

Professor McGonagall lifted a weird looking Hat, and it was then that Harry was reminded that this was a Sorting and that he’d soon be in a House.

His stomach rolled.

“Weasley, Ronald!” Professor McGonagall called.

Several heads from the first years looked behind them when he heard two whistles, finding Fred and George sending their brother a thumbs up. Ariel was next to them, her dark eyes watching Harry anxiously. He gave a little wave to her before turning back to watch Ron take a seat after she returned it tentatively.

Ron was turning green, but he soon returned to a normal shade once the Sorting Hat called, _“GRYFFINDOR!”_ in a loud voice.

The Gryffindor table let out shouts and yells of triumph as Ron hurried off the stool to join his new classmates, and Harry felt his stomach twist in knots.

“Granger, Hermione!”

The brown, bushy-haired girl from before jerked from her place among the first years, as though she’d been awoken from some kind of dreaming state, and made her way up to the stool, wide-eyed and biting her lip so hard that Harry wondered how she didn’t start bleeding.

The Granger girl squeezed her eyes shut as McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat about her head, only to have it shout, _“GRYFFINDOR!”_ a few seconds later.

“Potter, Harry!” The words reached Harry’s ears, though it took him a moment to make his feet move and finally make his way to the stool.

There were whispers echoing throughout the Great Hall now, unlike all the other first years who had already been Sorted. Harry heard murmurs of You-Know-Who and the Children-Who-Lived and quickly shut them all out. He shot a glance up at the professor’s table, finding that Dumbledore seemed to lean forward a little more and that Snape’s face had gone smooth as stone.

He frantically looked for his sister, allowing himself to sit only once her dark eyes met his and she gave a single nod of encouragement.

His bottom hit the wood and the Hat was placed deftly upon his head.

 _“Harry Potter…”_ A small voice seemed to say inside his head, _“Only a year ago that your sister was in an analogous predicament. I find similarities between you both… but now, where to put you? Many fine traits here indeed… but where would they thrive best?”_

He said nothing but closed his eyes, having no idea how to answer the Sorting Hat, or whether he wanted to. He just wanted to belong for once in his life.

_“It’s all here for Gryffindor… but there’s more to play around with. You’d flourish elsewhere… yes… yes, I know just where to put you now. Better be…”_

_“SLYTHERIN!”_ The Hat shouted and Harry froze, waiting for the applause that he’d been expecting to accompany his Sorting, but it did not come.

The Great Hall seemed to take in a simultaneous gasp before going deathly silent, and an uneasiness fell over Harry. Everyone was staring at him in shock, all of their mouths agape and eyes tripling in size. Even Ariel’s hands had flown up to her mouth, though her face screamed nothing but outright concern.

Harry swallowed loudly and hopped off the stool, avoiding McGonagall’s gobsmacked look. He dared not look up at Snape, for fear that the man’s scowl had turned into something that may turn him into stone.

Damon seemed to be the only one not gaping at him as Harry made his way over, scooting to the side so that there was room next to him for Harry to sit. At this point, the Slytherin table had begun to applaud hesitantly, though now they looked more confused than anything else. Harry heard a single pair of hands clapping loudly from across the Hall, and he assumed it was Ariel finally coming to her senses.

“Well,” Damon said once McGonagall had called the next name _(Longbottom, Neville), “that_ was unexpected.”

“What’s wrong with everyone?” Harry looked around, finding that most of the student’s gazes hadn’t left him yet, “Did I do something wrong?”

“They expected you to be a Gryffindor.” Damon chuckled darkly and patted his shoulder, making Harry wince, “But hey, welcome to _Slytherin,_ Potter.”

* * *

It was impossible. Absolutely, mind boggling _illogical._ Borderline _insanity._

If it were not for the small raven haired child with the still-horrendous spectacles making his way over to the Slytherin table, he would have laughed aloud at the very thought. Severus had been expecting nothing less than the jubilant shout of _“GRYFFINDOR!”_ and for the student body to explode into the most obnoxious round of applause and cheers since his daughter had been under the Hat. Every year he scrutinized every single one of the little cretins and predicted where they’d be Sorted — the smug grin that accompanied every Gryffindor and prideful nod the Slytherins would give to their new Housemates. And if Harry Potter was anything, it was going to be a Gryffindor.

Yes, Severus had prepared himself for this moment. It was unthinkable to think of Potter in front of any other House other than Gryffindor. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were laughable…

But _this..._

Harry _bloody_ Potter was not supposed to be a bloody _Slytherin._ It was an oxymoron in itself.

There hadn’t been a Potter in Slytherin for centuries, and even then, Severus doubted the sources that claimed that James Potter could have ever been, even if distantly, related to anyone in Slytherin. The bastard had been the epitome of everything Gryffindor. There wasn’t a cunning, ambitious bone in the Potter’s body.

At the time, yes, Ariel being in Gryffindor had made sense. Anything _but_ Gryffindor hadn’t made much sense for the girl. She was bold, hard-headed, stubborn, but never arrogant in the way that Potter had been. She had inherited all those things from _Lily._ The girl’s mother had always been quick to rush into a situation, like the night she had approached him at the bar in Hogsmeade. Severus had seen the fear and trepidation flash through those emerald eyes when they’d caught sight of him, and yet, she’d strutted over to the bar and nonchalantly ordered a drink in the presence of what she thought to be (and was presumably right at the time) to be a Death Eater.

And maybe it was even a part of him too, but Severus didn’t dare go there. He’d all but shut those thoughts from his mind long ago for fear that they would somehow fall from his lips involuntarily.

 _Harry Potter,_ however, was a different story entirely. 

Severus sat from his seat at the High Table, the daunting glare he had placed on his face chased away with a shout from the blasted Hat that made his heart stop in his chest. He’d nearly choked on the Sorting Hat’s words.

The boy ducked his head as an unsettling silence descended upon the hall. Even Dumbledore looked taken aback, shifting back in his chair and eyebrows furrowing in a calculating manner. Minerva looked like she might hack up a hairball.

And the girl…

Her head was whipping about the hall, between her brother, Severus himself, the rest of the Gryffindor table, and the Slytherins in raw worry. Not shock like himself and everyone else, but _concern._

It was his punishment for what he’d done to Lily and her children. His House would never see a chance to win the Cup again without the amount of points the clone would have docked. Not to mention that Severus was now _responsible_ for the boy. He’d vowed to protect him, yes, but to now be the one the boy came to if _other_ issues arose, that he would be forced to see the brat more than he would if he’d been in any other House…

Severus could no longer act as though the boy did not exist.

Now Ariel’s gaze was pointed at him, obsidian eyes full of a thousand questions that Severus did not have the answers to. He’d been as sure as the rest of the school that Harry Potter would be joining his sister.

He gave the slightest shake of his head to her, his _“not now”_ read clearly as Ariel’s face went blank and she let her eyes fall down to her plate.

When the last of the first years were Sorted, the final call from the Sorting Hat being _“RAVENCLAW!”_ did the Great Hall begin to resume it normal cheer and chatter from the students. The rest of the staff, Severus among them, simply seemed too stunned to do or say anything for a long moment.

“Well,” Dumbledore was the first to speak, raising a chalice that glimmered against the candlelight, “it seems like you’ve placed your bets on the wrong child, Severus.”

He offered a snarl in return and turned his now furious gaze the the roast that magically appeared on his plate.

“I don’t believe it.” Minerva looked dazed as she took her seat beside the Headmaster, “I was so sure I’d have the both of them…”

“You can have him.” Severus muttered, stabbing his food and wishing the Great Hall would collapse in a fiery show.

“Severus _Snape!”_ She snapped, “The poor boy is in _your_ House! Now, he may not be my direct responsibility or any of my business, but if you don’t look after him —”

“If _I_ don’t look after him?” Severus shot back, “I’m not the one who dumped him on a Muggle stoop and left him unattended for nine years!”

Dumbledore either pretended not to have heard him, or was truly beginning to feel all hundred and fifty something years.

“Your daughter will wring your neck if you don’t help that boy in every way you can possibly think of.” Minerva said in an overly-Gryffindor tone, “She’s got Lily’s temper, and if you remember anything about that girl —”

Severus locked eyes with Dumbledore just as he bent the fork in his hand, letting it fall to the floor and cutting off the rest of Minerva’s speech.

“I will see to the boy,” He said in a cold voice that made Sprout and Flitwick inch away a bit, “as I see _fit.”_

The Feast ended, _thankfully,_ and the Prefects began to lead the first years to the dormitories. Severus saw Ariel lingering, given her another shake of his head as he turned to his Slytherins and saw that Damon Malfoy was walking with Potter, following by an pouting Draco. Severus hadn’t seen the young Malfoy since he’d been eight or nine, but the resemblance between him and Lucius was undeniable.

He waited several minutes before making his way down to the dungeons to give his first year speech to the new Slytherins. The usual crowd of Death Eater’s children were the majority of the lot, as well as high ranking Purebloods and the occasional Halfbloods. _Potter,_ however…

Severus entered the dormitory with the speed and dexterity of a shadow, robes billowing about him as he halted in front of the fireplace and watched as the children jumped a bit. He looked over them one by one, looking at each of their faces and letting his face show that he meant business. Draco was smirking, though just barely, and it was then that Severus realized that he may be dealing with Lucius now more than he’d be required to in years past.

When black eyes landed on Potter, his glare hardened into stone cold marble and green eyes widened in confusion.

Of all the _fucking_ Houses —

“Congratulations on being placed in Slytherin House.” Severus began in his infamous silky drawl, “For many of you, it was to be expected. For others, maybe not.”

There were murmurs and several heads looking over shoulders at Potter.

“You are now a representation.” He continued, “Not just of the name Slytherin, but for myself and your fellow housemates. And in this, you will discover that Slytherin is not an easy House, nor am I an easy Housemaster.”

A collective gulp from several of the non-Death Eater spawn. Potter seemed to not be among them.

“We of Slytherin deal in subtleties, of games of mind and secrecy.” Severus lowered his voice so that they had to lean forward to hear him, “Those of you who wish to learn, I advise you to pay close attention, for there _will_ be punishments that fit the consequences. It is not a Slytherin custom to be forgiving. But if you are willing and able to excel, you will rewarded.”

They looked pleased enough now, and so with a jerk of his head, the Prefects began to show the first years up to the dorms. Severus briefly caught sight of Potter watching him, but flicked his cloak over his shoulder and stalked to his quarters, in dire need of a glass of firewhiskey.

No sooner had had fallen into the chair behind his desk had the door to his quarters opened with a slam that made the items of the desk shake and his teeth rattle.

 _“DAD!”_ A panicked voice shouted.

“There is absolutely _no need_ to shout.” Severus ground out as Ariel flew into the room. Her hair was a mess of red, cheeks rosy and chest heaving up and down.

“Did you talk to him?” Ariel demanded, eyes wide and full of questions Severus knew he didn’t have the answers to, “Is he alright?”

“Potter isn’t _dead,_ Ariel.” He rolled his eyes, avoiding her fearful gaze.

“No, he’s just in _Slytherin.”_ She said the words in complete disbelief and began to pace the area in front of his desk.

“You say it as though it’s a bad thing.” His eyes narrowed, though he couldn’t find the strength to completely disagree with her. The Golden Boy in the house of snakes and evil-doers would not bode well for him.

Ariel paused, giving her father an apologetic look before continuing, “It… I was so sure he would be in Gryffindor. _Everyone_ was.”

“He is truly one of a kind.” Severus said dryly, “A Potter in Slytherin. I suspect the world may cease spinning on it’s axis soon enough.”

“People are already saying… they think he’s… he’s the next Voldemort because he’s in Slytherin…” She was shaking her head, as though trying to rid her head of the offending notion.

Severus bit back a snarl. Bloody House politics. Of course the fact that the brat hadn’t assumed his throne as the Gryffindor prince had sparked the idea that if he wasn’t where the golden hearted were, he must be destined for darkness.

“You’re his Head of House now.” Ariel said quietly, “Which means you’re responsible for him. Which _means_ you need to look out for him.”

“I didn’t know my job description needed to be repeated to me by a second year.”

“Just promise me you’ll help him.” She leaned over to front of his desk so that she was looking him directly in the eye, “Promise me you won’t make this any harder on him than it’s going to be.”

“Why in Merlin’s name would I purposely give the boy a hard time?” The words burned in his mouth.

“You can be harsh. And overly critical. And sometimes too hard on people.” Ariel seemed to forget he was there, speaking her thoughts aloud, “And overbearing. And sometimes you’re not very patient —”

“I was not aware this was an analysis on _my_ character.” Severus snarled, sending her a nasty look, “I believe this conversation was on your brother and what motivated that blasted Hat to put him into _my_ House.”

“Right.” Her cheeks reddened in embarrassment, “Sorry. All I meant was that… if you could _not_ be the disciplinarian until he gets settled and figures things out…”

“He’s going to be regarded as I treat every other member of my House.” Severus snapped, “It is not your place to tell me how the boy is to be handled.”

Ariel looked wounded, ceasing her incessant pacing and stopping in front of his desk, head cocked to look him straight in the eye, “You should know better than anyone that being in Slytherin isn’t easy. I’m not saying that some of them don’t deserve the assumptions -_”

His black eyes hardened dangerously.

“For Merlin’s sake, Dad!” Ariel cried, throwing herself onto the desk, “I’m not saying that Slytherin is a bad House! If there’s anything you’ve taught me, it’s that there’s prejudice against all of us somewhere, but that doesn’t mean it’s _true.”_

“Potter is —”

_“Harry.”_

His hand slammed down onto the table and Severus stood, leaning cross the wooden surface menacingly, “I will call him what he is, Ariel, and he is a _Potter!”_

Her facial expression went from startled to downright thunderous, lips pulling back in a hard scowl that matched Severus’ own.

“So am I.” Ariel lifted her chin, “What’s wrong with that?”

 _YOU’RE NOT,_ he wanted to scream, _YOU’RE MINE._

“It’s not that there is a _problem —”_ He tried to soften his tone, failing.

“But there is.” Ariel’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, “What is it?”

Severus rose from behind the desk, “There is _nothing —”_

“You’re lying.” She threw back at him.

She was Icarus, flying far too close to the sun, and Severus would not let her burn.

“You have no grounds to make such accusations.” He snarled, “If you came down here to point fingers at your brother’s _unfortunate situation,_ then kindly _leave.”_

Ariel flinched back and while the motion twisted something inside of him, Severus knew he had to. If this conversation continued, he was bound to let something slip, because somehow, the notion that Ariel believed James Potter to be her father made him want to rip the foundation of his very existence and drag it somewhere dark and where it would never be found.

“Fine.” Raw hurt making her voice throb, “But I’m going to figure it out sooner than later.”

And then she was gone, and somewhere deep within, Severus knew that she was right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Alright, so here's the good news: I have up until like, Chapter 54 prewritten now, which MEANS you guys will definitely be getting at least 1 chapter a week. I may decide to post more than once depending on what's going on. 
> 
> Thank you for the reviews. I'm sorry if you're an old reader an waiting to get back to PoA. We'll get there. Xx


	18. Unbecoming

To put things in simplest terms, Harry wasn’t quite sure what was going on.

Everyone was still looking at him like he’d sprouted a second head if they weren’t sneering at him. It reminded him of how Snape looked at him, and his nerves began to build up as he numbly followed Damon to wherever the prefects were leading them. He hadn’t heard a word of whatever it was Snape had even said about welcoming them all to Slytherin or what not. Harry had been too busy trying to read the man’s face and figure out what he was thinking about him being placed in _his_ House. Damon had stayed behind with him, to his immense relief, though Harry wasn’t quite sure why the boy was being kind to him when everyone else looked afraid of him.

“Come on, then.” Damon jerked his head and Harry followed obediently, having no other choice, “It’ll be an early curfew tonight.”

“Is it always an early curfew?” Harry asked, not really caring one bit, but not wanting to continue walking in silence, either.

“For first years, it is. Merlin help you if you’re caught out of bed. The prefects here can be real tough if they don’t like you… you get sent to Snape if they’re in a bad mood, and trust me, that’s never fun. The older kids have told me it gets better every year since you make friends with them and such… but I’d stay in line, if I were you.”

Well, there was no way Harry was seeing Ariel tonight, then. And there was no way in hell that he was going to go and _ask_ Snape if he could. Harry wondered if she and Ron were thinking the same thing everyone else seemed to be wondering about his Sorting. He wished someone would tell him already.

“Are the rest of the rules as strict?” Harry asked as they began to climb a winding staircase, windows illuminating the dark stairwell an eery green. It seemed they were below ground, which Harry remembered Ariel saying about the dungeons his first visit. The windows looked out to what he thought was weird, green fog, until he realized that they were under _water._

“Yes and no.” Damon replied. The prefect leading the other first years shot him a look, as though he was bothered by Damon’s talking. But if he saw it, Damon didn’t pay it any mind, for he went on, “You’ll get away with little things… Snape really doesn’t get involved unless it’s something big, _or_ if it’s a repeated offense. And trust me, you _don’t_ want that. He turns very nasty when he’s mad.”

Harry almost rolled his eyes and said, _“Yeah, I know,”_ but decided against it.

He stopped talking after that, because quite frankly, it was making his head spin. _Why_ had _he_ had to end up in the same bloody House that _Snape_ was in charge of? The man _hated_ him. No one could glare at someone the way Snape glared at Harry and _not_ mean it. He certainly didn’t look at Ariel like that. Every time he’d visited when he’d been a kid, he’d been so cold and uncaring…

Harry hadn’t noticed Draco Malfoy behind him, but apparently he didn’t like that his cousin was talking to him _at all,_ for he shoved him from behind and sneered a, “Move _faster,_ Potter. I’d like to be in bed before you turn into the next Dark Lord.”

Damon shot him a scathing look at the comment, but Harry turned around, confused by the terminology, and raised an eyebrow, “The next _what?”_

_“Draco…”_ Damon said through his teeth, reaching out to grab his cousin, but Draco danced out of the way and gave Harry a vicious smile.

“Don’t you _know,_ Potter?” He sneered at him, “The Dark Lord himself came from Slytherin… and since you're supposedly the one to have defeated him, that means _you’re_ next. It couldn’t be your sister — Gryffindor’s are too _noble.”_ He said the last word like it were something found on the bottom of his shoe.

Damon rolled his eyes, but his body was tensed in a way that made Harry think he thought the accusation more serious than he was showing, _“Right,_ Draco. You know, if Harry here really _is_ the next Dark Lord, maybe you should consider _not_ antagonizing him. You might not make it through the first night since you’re… well, _y’know,_ sleeping in the same room as him.”

Draco scoffed, but his already pale skin turned a shade whiter.

Harry blinked, still having no clue what the bloody hell they were talking about before the realization hit him like a thunderbolt, “Are you talking about _Voldemort?”_

They were still in the stairwell, and while some of the other first years had stopped to watch the show, others proceeded onward anyways. But at the sound of the name, they _all_ screeched to a halt and suddenly, everyone’s eyes were on Harry again.

Crap. What had he done _now?_

“You… you dare say his name?” Draco demanded, grey eyes wide in shock and a hint of fear, “The man who killed your parents…”

_“Enough,_ Draco!” Damon snapped, and then, turning to the rest of the students watching yelled, _“Well?_ What’re you looking at? Waiting for him to start shooting off Killing Curses, are you?”

They scattered faster than roaches when exposed to light.

Harry swallowed loudly as the sound of footsteps against the stone rang in his ears. He knew it was odd for him to say the name aloud, but Ariel had when she’d spoken of him. Even at the Weasley’s, they’d called him You-Know-Who, but never reprimanded Harry for using the actual _name._ Why did the Slytherins act like it was some kind of curse?

“I’d cool it with the V-word.” Damon said in a low voice, making sure the rest of the students had ascended ahead of them before they followed.

“Why?” Harry asked, “It’s just a _name.”_

“Exactly.” He leaned over so that he was speaking into his ear, “And You-Know-Who turned that into something to fear. A lot of the kids here grew up with Death Eater parents, Harry. They won’t take too kindly to that.”

“Death Eaters… those were Vold —”

Damon winced.

“Sorry… _You-Know-Who’s_ followers, right? Ariel mentioned that, I think. And Ron.” His gut twisted again at the thought of what Ron must be thinking of his Sorting. They were supposed to have been _roommates._

Damon nodded, “You need to be careful, Harry. This is your House now, and those of us that understand that will help you and make you feel welcome, but for the rest… well, they expect you to obey the Pureblood ideals, and I don’t think that’s something you’re really into.”

“You mean that whole supremacy thing?” Harry made a face, “No, thank you.”

Damon snorted.

“So they think I’m evil because I’m in Slytherin, then?” Harry asked in a quiet voice.

“They expect you to ally yourself with them.” Damon answered, “Not even the Death Eaters figured out what happened to You-Know-Who that night… but they’ve come to the conclusion that whatever happened must have been more powerful and darker magic than You-Know-Whos.”

He shuddered, pausing outside of the door to what he presumed was the boy dormitories and looked up at Damon, a new thought puzzling him, “Why’re _you_ being so nice to me, then? Draco’s your bloody _cousin,_ and he’s…”

“A prat?” Damon guessed, smirking when Harry blushed, “Draco wasn’t expecting the Boy-Who-Lived to be opposed to the teachings that Lucius assured him were true and what you most likely believed in. Lucius was confused enough when he heard your sister had been Sorted into Gryffindor… I think a lot of the Death Eaters were. But now that _you’re_ in _Slytherin_ and aren’t lining up to show off all the _dark magic_ you _surely_ must know…” He trailed off, rolling his eyes.

“That doesn’t answer why _you’re_ being nice to me.”

Damon blinked, “I kind of thought that would be obvious. You’re kind of _not_ a dark wizard like everyone else in this bloody House aspires to be… _and_ you’re my best mate’s brother. It’d be kind of nice to have someone here who doesn’t avoid me like I’m the plague. People around here don’t like me much either.”

“It must be better than being the next You-Know-Who.” Harry muttered, and at this, Damon’s face went void of any humor, like what he had said had been the equivalent of saying he had weeks to live.

“There are worse things.” Damon said softly, and then he opened the door.

The room was warmer than Harry had anticipated, a warm glow from the windows bathing the stone floor in an eerie light that he found himself gazing at for several moments. There were leather couches surrounding ginormous fireplaces, and the canopy beds were each next a window. Some of the windows had stained glass in them, each different and holding what Harry assumed to be pictures of magical beasts and such.

He caught sight of his trunk in front of a bed that was nearest to the fireplace and in front of a window with a serpent coiled and ready to spring. There was something oddly comforting about it that Harry liked.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” Damon broke him away from his staring, “Meet me in the common room before breakfast?”

Harry nodded and Damon was gone, leaving him to unpack his things and get ready for bed by himself and ponder the series of events that today had brought with it.

He hadn’t heard much of the Houses, besides what Ariel had told him that day back in March. Ron had gone on and on about how he wanted to be in Gryffindor, how he _was_ going to be in Gryffindor, but nothing about Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw or Slytherin. It hadn’t occurred to Harry that one group would be favored among others… that there was one that was looked down upon because of past events.

Of course he’d end up in the same bloody House as Lord _bloody_ Voldemort and his followers. It was just his luck.

It also seemed, that it was just Harry’s luck to end up with a bed next to Draco Malfoy.

He was glaring at him as Harry crawled into bed, turning on his side away from the blonde boy in order to avoid him. He was tired, and really not in the mood to argue anymore with anyone. He just wanted to fall asleep so that he could wake up and make sure that Ariel and Ron didn’t think he was going to slaughter all of Slytherin in the middle of the night.

“Pathetic.” He heard Draco snorted, “Really, Potter, I’m rather disappointed with you. The Boy-Who-Lived gets placed in the only House that could make him something, and he makes himself look like an utter prat.”

Harry poked his head up and rolled his eyes, “You know Malfoy, for someone who seems to hate me and my sister, you sure do seem to like talking about us.”

He barked a laugh, “That’s rich, Potter.”

“What’s rich? _You?_ Because I’m pretty sure everyone in here heard you bragging about your family and how much money you have to buy gel for your hair.”

“At least I _have_ a family.” Draco sneered and at this, Harry sat up, glaring back at him.

“I have my sister.” He said coolly.

“Do you? Gryffindors and Slytherins don’t get on, Potter. I’d bet a galleon she doesn’t want to see you after tonight’s Sorting.”

His heart leapt into his throat.

“And do yourself a favor and stay away from my cousin.” Draco sneered, “Just because you don’t have a family doesn’t mean you can go latching onto other people’s.”

“Stuff it, Malfoy.” Harry mumbled, “You don’t know me.”

_No one does._ He hadn’t found himself. 

And then Harry remembered that his scar had hurt at dinner when Snape had looked at him, and his dreams were filled with the man’s cold laughter and his own screams.

* * *

Ariel huddled against the pillows in her head, though she knew it would be a long time before sleep found it, if it did at all. Her cheeks were still tear-stained and body shaking from the argument with her father and revelations that today had brought with it.

He had never spoken to her as such. _Never._ Not even when she’d demanded to see Harry in the first place and she’d yelled at him in class over Damon. Ariel knew the professor that taught Potions and the man that had raised her the past ten years, and those were two _very_ different individuals. Her father had never once said anything that cut her this deep, made her feel so torn…

Severus was lying about something, and the fact that it had to do with her brother made Ariel feel as if there was a knife twisting her stomach into knots. They didn’t lie to one another…

Well, _she_ didn’t lie to _him._ He’d apparently been lying to her her whole _life._ But that didn’t mean he didn’t love her… or really care… did it?

He had better do his damndest to make sure Harry was alright, whether he was mad at her or not.

“Are you alright?” asked an annoyingly familiar voice.

Ariel peeked from behind her shoulder and found the brown, bushy-haired-Granger-Girl looking at her with puzzled amber eyes.

“I’m fine.” She said shortly, turning away from her.

“You don’t _seem_ fine.”

She bit her tongue and fought back the urge to say _“obviously”_ in reply, but instead, just repeated the phrase, “I’m fine,” and curled further into herself.

And then Ariel realized that Granger-Girl was in _her room — not_ the first years dormitory. Her eyes flew open and she sat up like her rear-end had been set on fire.

“What are you doing in here?” She demanded.

“I thought I’d check on you. I overheard Ronald say you were worried about Harry.”

Ariel didn’t know how to respond to that. People didn’t _check up on her_ because they’d been eavesdropping. If that had been the case, Katie Bell would’ve been bothering her every other day.

Instead of acknowledging Granger-Girl’s nosiness, Ariel shoved her head back under the covers.

“Were you expecting your brother to end up in Slytherin?” Granger called from across the room just as she felt her eyelids become heavier.

Ariel groaned loudly in response.

“You’re not a people person, are you?” Granger asked, though it sounded more like a statement.

“Did you get that before or after I slammed the door in your face on the train?” Ariel said into her pillow.

“Well it was certainly was a clue.” Granger quipped, “But now, I think I’m getting the full picture.”

“Congratulations to you.” She said flatly, “Ravenclaw missed one, I guess.”

Granger-first-year stopped talking after that and Ariel thanked whatever deities were listening for it.

Slytherin was not a bad House. Ariel knew that, especially because she had nearly been Sorted into it, and she was pretty sure that she wasn’t evil or anything. And if _she_ wasn’t evil, than her little brother sure as hell wasn’t. It wasn’t his fault that Slytherin had seemingly produced all the dark wizards that had plagued the world during the first wizarding war. And her _father_ wasn’t bad. A bit prickly — okay, _very_ prickly —  but not bad.

And then there was the weird pain that had shot through her forehead shortly after Harry had taken his seat, as if Ariel hadn’t enough to worry about already.

Somehow sleep found her and she slept soundlessly, but when she awoke the following morning she felt like a man possessed. Ariel sprung from the bed and raced to the bathroom, throwing on her school robes and running a brush through her hair. She nearly ran smack into Ron as she flew through the common room.

“Hi,” Ariel breathed, cheeks already flushed even though she hadn’t been awake for thirty minutes, “are you on your way down?”

“Yeah.” His blue eyes averted themselves away from her face, “You seen Harry yet?”

“I was just going down to see him now.” She said, “Are you coming?”

Ron hesitated, and that was when Ariel saw the two other boys that had been Sorted into Gryffindor, Dean and Seamus if she recalled correctly, standing behind him, waiting and watching her carefully.

Would people ever stop watching her with that weird kind of curiosity?

“You made new friends.” Ariel raised an eyebrow, “You planning on introducing them to Harry?”

He shifted his weight uncomfortably, “I uh… I don’t think Harry would… I mean… he’s probably made his own friends by now…”

She grabbed the collar of his robe and pulled him close so that her lips were at his ear, “Ronald Weasley, if you drop my brother because of House rivalries that were invented by wizards centuries older than you and ten times as thick headed, I will make sure that your brothers make your first year here a living hell.”

When she pulled away, Ron had turned white, but his face had twisted into something that made him look offended. “I wasn’t planning on not being his mate anymore just because he got put in Slytherin.”

“Then why are you acting like you’re ready to make a run for it?” The eyebrow raised itself even higher.

“Because _they_ don’t know it yet.” Ron hissed, “Harry is my best mate, alright? But he’s in a different House now and I _do_ have to make friends for myself here.”

“You had better tell him that before he thinks you’ve abandoned him.” Ariel crossed her arms in emphasis, “Draco sure as hell isn’t going to make things easy from the looks of it. He doesn’t need you too.”

“Harry can handle Malfoy!” Ron said defensively, “And I planned on sitting next to him in class this morning, for your information!”

“Good.” She nodded her head in approval, not bothering to hear the rest as she flounced out the door and down to the Great Hall.

It was a sunny morning, a warmth floating through the chilly morning air as the smell of bacon and sausage wafted through the hall. Ariel glanced up at her the High Table, finding her father looking more sullen and I-Want-To-Impale-Myself-With-My-Fork than usual. Dumbledore’s robes were a neon orange and for a moment, Ariel considered the idea that he had somehow become brighter than the sun itself.

She paused at the entrance, looking out over the sea of students heads and found two dark haired boys sitting on the other side of the hall from where she was supposed to sit herself.

And then she did something that no Gryffindor in the history of Hogwarts — or at least that _she_ knew of — had ever done.

Ariel  walked straight in the the Great Hall with her chin high, past the rows of students that turned to look at her, and sat down next to her brother.

“Hi.” Ariel smiled at him.

Before Harry could open his mouth to respond, Damon dropped his spoon with a clatter so loud that it made the entire Great Hall raise their heads from their breakfast and look in their direction, jaws dropping when they saw that Ariel Potter, _Gryffindor,_ was sitting at the _Slytherin_ table. She briefly saw that Draco Malfoy was choking on his toast before focusing on her brother, cursing herself when she felt her face go hot in embarrassment.

The entire Hall was so silent that Ariel’s heartbeat was deafening in her own ears.

“What’s wrong?” Harry looked around warily, “Have I done something _again?”_

“No, they’re staring at me.” She winced at him and tried to hide behind a curtain of hair, “Don’t worry.”

“Are you _mad?”_ Damon squeaked.

“No,” She reached forward and grabbed a banana from the trays of food. “I’m actually very hungry.”

“Why is everyone staring at us then?” Harry whispered.

“Because the great and terrible Gryffindor has infiltrated enemy lines.” Ariel rolled her eyes, turning her head to the left to find that that entire side of the table was filled with wide-eyed Slytherins. _“Well?_ What are you looking at?” She snapped at them, sending them diving back into their breakfast.

The Great Hall began to murmur to life once everyone had recovered, the majority of the heads turning back to their tables. Ariel could hear whisperings of their names coming from every direction, but she gritted her teeth and turned her attention back to her brother.

“You’re an utter _lunatic!”_ Damon hissed, “Snape is going to have your _head!”_

She hadn’t dared look up at the High Table, but she snorted loudly, “I’d like to see him try. There’s no rule _banning_ it.”

“Take that back.” Damon said uneasily as he gazed at the professor’s table sideways, “He’s turning _purple…_ I think he’s going to break his plate. Dumbledore’s whispering something to him…”

Ariel ignored him and turned back to her brother, “How are you?”

Harry shrugged, looking a bit relieved that all the staring wasn’t about him this time, “I’m fine.”

“Did Draco give you any trouble?”

Another shrug, and at this, Damon quirked an eyebrow, “He keeps trying to provoke me, I think. But it’s alright… I don’t let him get to me.”

Her eyes flitted over the the pale boy that was still glaring them down with all the ferocity of a disturbed ferret.

“He _does_ have an image to uphold.” Damon sighed, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he already wrote to my uncle.”

“If you need me to talk to my father about it…” Ariel offered slowly.

“I can take care of myself.” Harry said defensively, “He doesn’t bother me, alright? He just said that Gryffindors and Slytherins don’t get on well.”

She frowned, “Don’t tell me your playing into stupid House politics.”

“I just said I’m _not.”_

“Good.” Ariel said evenly, “Because we said we were going to give this another try when you started, and I’m not letting the fact that we’re in different Houses ruin that.”

Relief seemed to flood through his face then, green eyes igniting a flame that slowly spread across his face and gracing her with a smile.

“Snape’s handing out schedules.” Damon said as Ariel began to nibble at her fruit, frowning when Harry pushed away his still full plate, “Think we’ll have a lot together?”

“Hope so.” She sighed, “You know Quirrell is teaching Defense this year?”

_“Quirrell?”_ He repeated, unbelieving, “The man jumps at his own shadow! How did he go from _Muggle Studies_ to _Defense?_ Is he even _qualified?”_

“Must be.” Ariel shrugged, “I was surprised when Dad told me… he was mad about it.”

“Why’s that?” Harry asked, watching her father as he began to drop schedules down in front of the other Slytherins. Damon had been right — he looked purple-ish, and ready to rip the schedules to shreds.

“Dad’s wanted the Defense job for a while.” She explained to Harry. “Dumbledore won’t give it to him.”

Just as her brother went to ask another question, the familiar billowing robes and scowl was upon them like a sudden storm, flinging Damon’s schedule at him and dropping Harry’s own down in front of him without a single word. Ariel didn’t dare look up at him.

“Sir?” Damon asked just as Severus began to stalk away with far more speed than Ariel was used to, “Why’s Professor Quirrell teaching Defense? What happened to Professor Merrythought?”

A chill wrapped around her legs and made her shiver. Ariel could feel his eyes staring into the back of her head.

“I don’t believe that’s any of your business, Mr Malfoy.” Severus replied coolly, “If you wish to inquire about a professor’s qualifications, I suggest you take it up with Professor Dumbledore.”

Damon ducked his head and stuffed another sausage into his mouth and Severus walked away, actually _handing_ Draco his timetable.

“I see last year’s attitude hasn’t changed.” Damon muttered under his breath, glaring at the professor’s back. “Good to know he still hates me.”

Ariel didn’t answer, not wanting to discuss anything remotely related to her father at the present moment. Harry was staring at her, full of questions, but instead she snatched Harry’s schedule out from under him and began to read it aloud.

“Double Potions this morning.” She grinned at him, “Good luck. I hope you read ahead.”

Damon barked a laugh as he downed the rest of his pumpkin juice.

“I did, actually.” Harry said eagerly, eyes lighting up, “Fred and George said he was hard and I… I figured it couldn’t hurt…”

“That’s definitely one way to give Snape a reason to not think you’re a complete waste of space.” Damon said, nodding his head in approval, “What was it he said to us our first day? I believe it was something about our heads being full of sawdust.”

“He thinks I’m a complete waste of space?” Harry asked, his face paling and eyes losing a bit of their light.

“Not _you_ specifically.” Ariel shot Damon a look, “It takes a certain kind of wizard to be good at Potions, and it’s not that common. You’re probably going to melt your fair share of cauldrons before you graduate — everyone does. But you’re in Slytherin and Dad favors you guys. You already have a leg up. And if you’ve been reading ahead…”

“So I’m safe?” Harry asked, his voice asking for reassurance.

“You’ll be fine, Harry.” Ariel gave his arm a squeeze, “Stick with Ron and stay away from Draco and you’ll be alright. He’s not terrible unless he’s in a particularly foul mood.”

“Miss Potter!” McGonagall called from the Gryffindor table, waving her over, though Ariel noticed that her eyes were flashing smugly at her father. “Kindly return to your peers for a moment so that you know where you’re going after this.”

The other students were beginning to rise and chatter excitedly amongst themselves, exchanging times and such as Ariel rose.

“Good luck.” She said to Harry, “Try not to murder Draco.”

“Thanks.” Harry sighed, “I suppose I can’t, seeing as we won’t have that second chance then.”

* * *

It was an ungodly hour when Dumbledore called on Severus earlier that morning, the content of the conversation making him wish all the more that the old codger would let other wizard’s problems stay their own. It truly was a mystery as to why the man felt it his business to help those with issues that could cause more trouble than good.

“The Stone is secure.” The old man said just as the sun peeked up from behind the mountains, “Myself and Nicolas have agreed that is shall stay here until he and his wife decide what is to be done with it. I’d like to thank you for your contribution in keeping it safe, Severus.”

The Stone was a problem enough as it was, but now he had a Potter in his House and a suspicious daughter who was walking a _very_ dangerous line in regards to things that Severus had vowed for her to never discover.

He grunted in response — creating a few potions that would give anyone who was not a potion’s master trouble wasn’t much to thank for.

“Is it all of this really necessary?” Severus asked instead, “Surely your wards alone should be enough to protect the Stone, along with the spells in place that protect Hogwarts itself. No one here knows of it other than the staff…”

“You can never be too careful, my boy.” Dumbledore sighed, looking up from under his half-moon spectacles at him, “Now tell me, how is Harry?”

Severus gritted his teeth and looked away at this. How had he become saddled with the brat _again?_

“Severus?” Dumbledore asked again when he didn’t answer, now frowning. “I asked how Harry was.”

“I know what you said.” Severus snapped back, “And I wouldn’t know. I haven’t spoken with the boy. I suppose he’s still alive and anxious to make sure he hasn’t lost his Gryffindor allies.”

The frown deepened into disapproval, “I would have hoped that you could set aside your resentment towards the child’s father for their sakes. Harry is quite… I found him to be a rather engaging boy, Severus. Quiet, reserved, very unlike James was at that age, if I recall correctly. If anything, he is like his mother.”

“He is Potter’s clone.” Severus shot back defensively, “Surely there is a part of his father in him somewhere, and when it surfaces —”

“You hate the boy because he looks like James, but Ariel is more like him, if you factor their Houses into the equation.” Dumbledore raised a silvery eyebrow at him, “Surely you see how hypocritical that is, Severus.”

He scowled back at him while that voice in the back of his mind screamed and clawed and writhed for the truth.

“Ariel is _my_ daughter.” Severus hissed, “You told me all those years ago to raise her for Lily, and that I have. I don’t have the strength or the will to do the same for the boy.”

“It is not that you can’t.” Dumbledore said, “You _won’t.”_

“He is going to be treated like every single one of my Slytherins.” He snapped, “I won’t hold him up on some pedestal like everyone else does.”

“You treat Ariel differently.”

“Ariel is my _child.”_

“That boy needs you more than anyone, Severus.” Dumbledore said in a very serious tone, void of any of the infuriating pity and gentleness it usually held, “It was not that long ago that a boy who was also Sorted into Slytherin walked these very halls and made all the wrong choices because of it. Harry needs guidance, a firm hand to make sure he does not stray.”

Severus snorted, “You think Potter is capable of the same darkness that the Dark Lord was?”

“I believe that there are fated coincidences between their situations.” Dumbledore said quietly, “Both from homes that didn’t want them, surrounded by Muggles that did not understand their abilities… orphaned at a young age…”

“The day that _any_ child of James bloody Potter embraces dark magic, Slytherin or not, is the day that I will hug Sybil Trelawney. Harry Potter is not Tom Riddle.”

“And young Harry needs reassurance of that.”

_“Potter_ needs someone to keep him in line, and I plan on doing just that and nothing more.”

“You blur the lines between past and present, Severus. Ariel is not Lily, and Harry is not James. Surely after all these years you have realized that? Or perhaps I was mistaken in giving her into your care in the first place…”

His vision went red at this, Ariel’s words ringing in his ears from last night. _“So am I. What’s wrong with that?”_

“Ariel is not Lily.” Severus forced through bared teeth, “She’s _mine._ I have more of a right to her than _anyone.”_

“Ariel is, in her mind, as much James’ as Harry is. If you resent the boy because of it, what will that say to her?”

When Severus did not spit back another defense, something changed in Dumbledore’s face, a calculating look that made all of the hatred of Potter’s memory that had been building in him flow away for the moment. An odd feeling began to creep over him. The Headmaster leaned back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap, as though a sudden realization had dawned on him.

“You’re thinking about telling her.” Dumbledore said simply.

He had been. It had been brewing in the back of his mind for months — maybe even years. Severus had watched the girl grow, and how boundless her love could be. It was a dangerous thing. He could feel himself tempted, wanting her to know that she was as much his and he was hers. It was probably the worst idea he’d ever had… his fatal flaw, but he wanted her to know…

“I’d rather her hear it come from me.” Severus growled at the twinkle building in Dumbledore’s eyes. “She’s getting older… asking questions. I can’t lie to her forever.”

“No,” Dumbledore agreed. “You can’t. Is it simply because of Harry’s arrival, or something else?”

“It’s… a culmination.” Severus rubbed at his face tiredly. “Potter’s arrival, yes, but it’s also… Ariel herself. She knows I knew her mother. Right after I brought Potter here, she came to me and asked if I… _cared_ about her. There was… doubt there I didn’t realize was _doubt…_ I thought she was pulling away. I don’t want her to ever… _question_ that.”

Dumbledore paused before responding, “Would you have done anything differently, Severus? Could you have loved her any more?”

“Does that mean it is selfish of me, then?” He couldn’t look him in the eye anymore.

“No,” the gentleness in his voice hurt his ears. “Don’t you know what real tragedy is, Severus? When you’re excruciatingly aching for another but too damaged, too broken to reach for a touch. Throughout the years, I’ve seen you open up to Ariel… but never completely. I think it’s the past you’ve kept hidden that makes her think she has reason to doubt. She can sense it — the girl has your intuition. She’s never taken anything at face-value.”

_It would bring them together or break her,_ were the words he left out. Severus had toyed with the possibilities, the outcomes and Ariel’s reaction. There was no denying that she’d be crushed initially… angry, hurt, betrayed. Severus had, after all, been lying to her since she’d been two. It was once her head had cleared that frightened him… not the information itself. Severus wasn’t wary of her exposing it — there was a great amount of trust on her end, so unlike his.

He should have never taken her in the first place — but where else would she have gone? The thought of her ending up somewhere else pained him… but now Ariel would most certainly be his undoing.

“I feel… as if I’m playing with her fate, her future.” Severus sighed after a long pause. “I wanted her childhood to be free of this, but now… there’s no hiding it from her. It’s something that she will need to deal with in her own capacity… whatever she wishes to do with me after is her business.”

“And yet, you are playing with the boy’s fate.” Dumbledore said evenly, “You can’t expect to treat Harry poorly in retaliation for his father’s sins and for Ariel to accept that.”

“I won’t lose her.” Severus murmured, almost to himself, “Not again.”

“You haven’t lost her.” He leaned forward, hands now clasped together tightly once more, “You’ve found her. She’ll only be lost if you choose to resent the boy for his father’s mistakes.”

Severus gripped the back of one of the chairs that sat in front of the desk, fingernails digging into the fabric — his momentary anchor.  He didn’t care anymore. There were far too many emotions swirling inside his head, so many foreign feelings building and binding, layering themselves as he struggled to overcome them. He needed to escape, if only for an hour or so before breakfast and his first class of the year.

Severus turned on his heel flinging the door open just as he heard the legs of Dumbledore’s chair screech against the wooden floor of the office.

“And Severus…” Dumbledore called in a soft voice that almost seemed nonchalant. “Keep an eye on Quirinius, would you?”

“What?” He asked sharply, stopping abruptly, “Why?”

“Humor an old man. I have an odd feeling about him…”

Severus slammed the door so loudly behind him that he almost smiled when he heard a small crash.

* * *

It went without saying that all of Hogwarts soon realized that Severus was in a _very_ bad mood to kick off the school year following his conversation with the Headmaster, and that rumor began with Harry Potter’s very first Potion’s class, but not before the scene at breakfast that his daughter made.

Severus could see her avoiding his eyes as his scowl focused itself on her hesitating at the entrance to the Great Hall. He’d been wondering where Ariel was, for she was already rather late and he wasn’t about to have her go until lunch without eating something. But then she’d lifted her head in the exact same manner Lily had when she’d been stomping away from Potter and his gang and plopped down next to the newly named Slytherin _-_ Potter.

It was a wonder that the world didn’t spontaneously combust at that very moment.

Ariel did not look at him once, and it took all of his self control not to snap or snarl something at her, because Merlin only knew it would make the situation worse. Instead, once he was done handing out the timetables, Severus fled the Great Hall and tried to brace himself for the nightmare he’d been anticipating coming to life.

The green eyed urchin was standing next to the Weasley boy and a girl with bushy, frizzy hair that was dressed in Gryffindor robes when Severus flung open the door to his classroom. He jerked his head for them to file inside, sneering down at the little cretins as they began to file inside.

Severus did not look at the boy again until he came to his name on the roll, and at the sight of the word _Potter,_ he felt his insides burn and a nasty taste fill his mouth.

“Ah, yes.” He said in a soft voice, “Harry Potter. Our new — _celebrity.”_

He heard Malfoy and Crabbe and Goyle’s sons snigger, but continued on, not bothering to look up to see how Potter had reacted. He took a moment to glance at Malfoy — it was all very surreal. He was looking at Lucius and Potter, sitting in his classroom as his students, for a split second.

Once he’d finished calling the names did he look up, the effortless silence music to his ears. If there was anything Severus couldn’t stand, it was the chatter of children.

“You are here to learn the subtle and exact art of potion-making.” Severus began. “As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…”

He paused for effect, finding that none of the little dunderheads seemed to be breathing at this point. He inwardly smiled.

“But for those of you with the… _predisposition…”_ Severus crossed his arms and began to look around at each and every one of them, “I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory and even stopper death… that is, if you aren’t as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach…”

His eyes had landed on Potter now, the rest of his speech lost when he found that the little cretin hadn’t been paying attention to a word he was saying, but was instead scribbling something down on a piece of parchment.

Arrogant. Careless. _Thoughtless._ Just like his father.

There it was.

_“Potter!”_ Severus barked, causing a pair of startled green eyes to flash up at him, “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

The brown haired girl in the Gryffindor robes, who Severus had seen by the attendance sheet, was named Granger, raised her hand high in the air.

The boy looked around wildly for a moment, the Weasley boy looking back at him, wide-eyed and just as confused as the rest of the class seemed to have become. Just as Severus went to open his mouth again to snap at the brat for not answering, Potter’s gaze met his.

“It makes a sleeping potion, sir.” Potter said in a very small voice, “Draught of Living Death.”

Severus face hardened as several students gave the boy encouraging smiles. Potter seemed to relax as well, leaning back in his seat and staring back at him evenly

Of all the things, why did it have to be _her eyes?_

“Let’s try again then, Potter.” Severus’ lip curled, “Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

“The stomach of a goat.” came the confident reply.

“And what are its uses?”

“It’s used to cure most poisons.” The boy sat up even straighter — eager.

“And what is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?” Severus crossed his arms. The brat had read ahead, apparently.

Potter hesitated, and just as a triumphant smirk creeped across his face, it was chased away by the sound of a soft voice saying, “Are… aren’t they the same plant? I think it’s called —”

“Aconite.” Severus snapped.

“Yeah!” The boy’s face lifted, “That’s it! Aconite!”

The Granger’s hand finally went down, looking disappointed.

“It seems someone was smart enough to read ahead.” Severus said softly.

Potter looked pleased with himself. The Weasley boy gave him a small, relieved smile, as though he hadn’t expected the boy to know the answers. Given, neither had Severus, but the boy still needed to learn a lesson.

And then he realized that the roll of parchment had been open in front of the brat the whole time, and Severus saw no reason.

“And tell me, Mr. Potter,” He began again in that silky voice, this time, layered with venom so thick that the front row of students leaned away, “how difficult was it to memorize those answers you have written on that piece of parchment in front of you?”

There was a collective gasp, and then a rush of whispers as Potter paled significantly.

“Sir, I didn’t!” He protested, voice shaking, “I swear it! I was only taking —”

“Silence!” Severus snarled, “Detention, Potter, tomorrow night, for cheating. I will not tolerate it in this classroom, nor would any other professor. You should be counting yourself lucky that I’m not sending you to the Headmaster this very instant… unless of course, you prefer that?”

The brat’s face was suddenly hidden from sight and something pulled inside him at the sight.

“No, sir.” Came a toneless reply. Even the Slytherins looked perturbed.

Severus said nothing as he flipped over the board and pointed at the instructions wordlessly, watching as the little dunderheads shuffled and groped around like idiots for ingredients and supplies and such.

Everyone, that was, except for Potter, who did not move for the remainder of the class.

* * *

After a morning of Transfiguration and an afternoon of Charms and the most boring Defense lesson she had ever sat through, Ariel was more than ready to sit down and eat something, especially after barely eating breakfast. She wandered into the Great Hall, for the first time she could remember, _on time,_ for dinner. She was anxious to see Harry and hear how his first day had gone.

She could see the heads of students whip towards her as she walked in between the rows of tables and wondered if her fame would ever subside, even just a _little_ bit.

“Hey,” Ariel said as she slid into the seat beside Harry, “how was double Dad? I hope you didn’t tell all the other first years it’s just an act.”

He didn’t answer, head bent low and not touching the chicken he was stirring around his plate.

“Harry?” She cocked her head so that she could look him in the eye, finding that the emerald glimmer had left his eyes, “You okay?”

When her brother didn’t answer, she looked across at Damon, was was eyeing his own food with much more interest than he should have been.

“What’s wrong?” Ariel gave his shoulder a small shake, and at this, Harry stood abruptly, still not looking at her, and walked out of the Great Hall.

She watched his retreating figure with wide, hurt eyes, startled by his dramatic change in demeanor. Her eyes immediately narrowed and fell to Damon, who still hadn’t looked up from his dinner. Ariel stood, about to go after him, when she heard Damon say _“don’t”_ in a quiet voice.

“What happened?” Ariel demanded, eyes narrowing at her friend and still poised to go after her brother, “He seemed to be doing fine earlier…”

“He had Potions today.” Damon said, finally glancing up at her. _“Remember?”_

“I know that.” She said, confused, “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Apparently, Snape isn’t as excited to welcome the Boy-Who-Lived to Hogwarts as everyone else was.”

_“What?”_

“You haven’t heard?”

“Heard _what?”_ Ariel’s eyes flitted up to the High Table, finding that her father was nowhere to be found.

It hit her like a ton of bricks.

“What did he do?” Her face darkened.

“He asked him a bunch of questions I’m pretty sure most third years wouldn’t know.” Damon rolled his eyes and began to pick at his food again, as though this troubled him as much as it had Harry. “He said he’d gotten them right… but Snape still hassled him a bit. Why in Merlin’s name did he give him such a hard time?”

Ariel blinked, not quite sure she’d heard him right, “I… I have… I have no idea. He asked him a _potion’s_ questions? On his _first day?”_

“Three, to be exact. And then he accused him of cheating when he got them right.”

A wave of fury washed over her at this. Hadn’t she _just_ spoken to Severus about treating Harry fairly? Granted, he hardly treated students equally at times, but he _always_ favored his Slytherins. Harry should have at least been spared _that_ much from him. It sounded as though he had purposely gone out of his way to be nasty to her brother… but surely her father couldn’t have… _wouldn’t_ have…

“Did he mouth off to him?” Ariel asked, desperate to find some way to explain her father’s bizarre and infuriating behavior, “Do something to make him mad? You know Dad will look for any excuse to yell.”

“Not from what I heard. The other Slytherins said it was unprovoked too… even Draco, though I think he got a kick out of it more than Snape might’ve. Harry said he knew the answers, but I think the fact that Snape called him out shook him up a little bit.”

“What the _hell?”_ Ariel fumed, “He… he _promised!_ He said he’d go easy on him… why didn’t Harry tell me?”

“I don’t know...” Damon looked at her like the answer was obvious, “Maybe because Snape is your _father_ and Harry is just your newly named _Slytherin brother.”_

She was going to kill her father.

Ariel threw herself up from the table, once again gaining the attention of the entire student body, only this time, she shot a Hex at a Slytherin that muttered something about her not knowing place. She had never felt such anger, not even when she’d found out that Harry had been forced to live in the cupboard at the Dursley’s. The _one person_ that had the power to make Harry’s transition smooth and as painless as possible was the _cause_ of his suffering. Not to mention that Harry would never open up and feel comfortable if her father was _harassing_ him.

She didn’t even bother to think of _why_ he was doing this. She was too angry. Too hurt. Too blinded with protecting Harry from the person she would have thought would do that job himself.

_“DAD!”_ Ariel shouted in a manner that made the potion’s ingredients on the walls quake as she threw open the classroom door.

There was a swish of black robes and suddenly he was standing only a foot away from her, black eyes flashing and mouth set in a hard line.

He _knew._ He’d been expecting her.

“You _said_ you weren’t going to give him a hard time.” Ariel forced out. She’d wanted to scream the words at him, but her throat had tightened against her will. It was a wonder she’d gotten them out at all.

“It needed to be done.” Her father said evenly, “You know how important it is that I treat you both equally in front of people... except those you know we cannot trust.”

“You’ve _never_ be nice to him.” Her voice broke with the sheer force she was putting into it to keep it from breaking, and to show just how angry she was, “You barely spoke two words to him when we brought him here. You didn’t tell him _anything_ all these years! What is your _problem?”_

“I am not a _nice_ person, Ariel.” Severus said coldly. “Your brother isn’t an exception to me.”

“That was _cruel.”_ She spat. “You called him out in the middle of his first day! What if he _hadn’t_ known the answers, huh? What then? Would you have taken points? You could have _humiliated_ him! And then you _did just that!_ How _could_ you?”

“It was meant to establish that I don’t hold him in the same light as the rest of the wizarding world does.” His eyes flashed.

“Then why didn’t you do that to _me?”_ Ariel shouted at him, finally her strength somewhere deep and strong that she hadn’t known had been there, “On my first bloody day here, why didn’t you ask _me_ something ridiculous like that? If _image_ is so damn important to you, than the fact that you adopted me ten years ago should have given you a twice as better reason to be nasty to me in public. So why _Harry?”_

Severus did not answer, but that strange look that he’d often worn on his face shortly after they’d rescued her brother came across his face like an evening shadow. That foreign mask of something unfathomable, something light, but for some reason, made her stomach feel as if it were getting ready to eject everything she’d eaten for today.

He wasn’t telling her the truth, and the realization that there was something relating to Harry that her father wouldn’t tell her was like a punch to the chest.

“You’re lying.” Ariel whispered the same words she’d uttered last night, stepping away from him, “There’s something else that you won’t tell me. Something about Harry.”

“I haven’t _said_ anything.” He said quietly. 

“You said I wouldn’t have to choose!” Ariel yelled, balling her fists at her side and leaning forward on the tips of her toes, “You _promised_ that I wouldn’t have to do that! You _said —”_

“I _said,”_ Severus hissed in a dangerous voice, “that I would see to the boy as I saw _fit. You,_ my mouthy child, are _not_ his Head of House, _nor_ an adult with any authority over him.”

“I’m his sister, and it’s my job to look out for him. Harry’s having a hard time _already_ and the people he’s supposed to be able to rely on are _attacking_ him! Damon is the only one who’s done anything _nice_ for him since he’s gotten here and he barely _knows_ him!”

“The boy wasn’t paying attention.” Severus rose from behind his desk, the expression on his face one Ariel had only a handful of times, and each time, they’d made her wish she hadn’t opened her mouth at all, “It was well within my right to discipline him.”

“He was taking _NOTES!”_ Ariel shouted, her face matching the ferocity in his own.

“He wasn’t doing as he was told.” Her father snarled, “I did not instruct the class to to take notes. How in Merlin’s name was I supposed to venture that Potter was doing anything other than —”

_“HARRY!”_ She stamped her foot, “His name is _Harry.”_

_“Potter —”_

_“Harry.”_

“Ariel —”

“He has a bloody name, and it’s —”

_“ENOUGH!”_ Her father roared back, both of his fists slamming down onto the desk with such force that several vials of what looked like a kind of fever reducer fell off the desk and shattered to the ground. Severus’ face twisted into something ugly and undisguised that made Ariel skitter backwards, nearly tripping over herself in the process.

It was a kind of hatred that Ariel imagined only Voldemort himself could personify, and it seared itself into her mind like a hot brand.

They simply stared back at each other for a long moment, Severus’ chest heaving as he bowed his head and Ariel stay poised in her defensive stance, arms raised in front of her, as though she would have the power to stop him. His anger was terrifying.

The fact that Ariel didn’t know _why_ he was so furious was crippling.

“Stop that.” Severus said in a low voice after several minutes of agonizing silence, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She didn’t move a muscle. She didn’t breathe.

“Ariel.” Severus went to move from behind the desk towards her, a long hand reaching for her. She stumbled back, her back now pressed up against the door, and only then did her father stop his advances.

The hardness in his face melted away, like ice when spring breathes onto the ground, leaving behind that infamous stone mask.

Except in his eyes. The stars glittered back at her, and the odd tightening in her chest made her gasp for breath.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Her father said in a near whisper that had all the passion in which he’d yelled _Potter_ back at her just seconds ago.

Ariel swallowed audibly and frantically grasped for the doorknob, feeling some of the air leave her lungs when her hands closed around it. She looked at the ground, focusing on the lines in the wood and the blurriness of her vision before she looked her father in the eye and jutted out her chin.

“Child,” His voice was so soft, it was almost transparent, like it wasn’t really him anymore. “Look at me.”

And when she spoke, it was with a clarity and confidence that made her realize why she’d been Sorted into Gryffindor in the first place, because if she were not in her parent’s House, Ariel could not have said it aloud and in the presence of the man in front of her, who was watching her as though she might crumble to the floor in pieces.

“I choose Harry.” Ariel said. “You can hate the both of us for it.”

She bolted from Severus’ quarters without a backwards glance, not stopping until she reached her rock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: In celebration of me being done with finals (!!!) and Christmas, here’s an update. Enjoy Xx.


	19. Friction

Time began to move and change and form things that hadn’t been touched in many years. The world began to shift, or at least, it did for Ariel as she sat upon her rock on that September day.

She did not cry, and she didn’t know why. She _couldn’t._

Ariel didn’t really think of anything for a long time, but instead let her mind float and sway as it pleased. And then when she began to trek the path that her father’s rage and intolerance towards her brother had bloodied, she concluded that perhaps, he had chosen it earlier than Ariel had realized. The signs that Severus had already been seething in his dislike towards her brother had been clear since the Weasley’s owl had arrived that day in July asking her over. Her father’s demeanor had changed drastically after that. He had been angrier, quicker to snap and lose his temper with her. Ariel had been so focused on Harry all holiday that she hadn’t realized that she wasn’t the only one with strong feelings about her brother. He’d never told Harry about her… had been reluctant to talk about him and go and get him at all…

It began with the anger that raged somewhere deep in her chest. Severus didn’t have a reason to be so cruel to Harry, and if he did, he sure as hell wasn’t open to sharing it. And even if he _did,_ Ariel thought, what could he possibly have against Harry? He was only a kid, just like she was. Hadn’t he suffered enough with the Dursleys? Severus had seen that with his own _eyes._ He’d _stopped it._

Her mother and father wouldn’t want this. As much as she had insisted to herself that Severus was her family in the same light that Harry was, it suddenly wasn’t so.

If Severus had been friends with her mum…

It didn’t make any _sense._

They had argued before, but nothing like _that._ Ariel had never seen that ugly rage etched on his face, and thrown something back at him that made her feel empty when she reached deep down and touched the part of her that ached for her father. She already missed him, missed the man that had held her at the end of last term and told her that he cared. Missed the man who cared for her when she was sick, and protected her when she was vulnerable.

People who loved one another didn’t hurt their loved ones like Severus was hurting Ariel.

As she sat there, lonely upon her rock, Ariel found herself wanting her mum more than ever. Her mother with hair as flaming red as her own. Her mother, who had loved her and Harry unconditionally, and had been willing to die for them…

 _Had_ died. For _them_..

Ariel cried, and then she knew why.

She resolved that she would go through the days and the weeks pushing Severus from her mind, because if he wasn’t willing to be something other than a bully to her brother, then there was no place for him in her life as far as she was concerned. The man that had raised and loved her and the man who had been so cruel to Harry on his first day were two _very_ different people, and Ariel did not want to know the latter. If that meant losing the former along the way, then there was no other choice.

Her little brother, apparently, hadn’t been expecting her to go that far.

Harry hadn’t been expecting many things, apparently — Slytherin being one of them — and even though Ariel had told him half a dozen times that she would _always_ choose him, this notion continued to surprise him.

Harry, who Ariel had found barricaded in the back of the library the day she had told her father she chose her brother, had never looked sadder to her. If there had been even an inkling of a doubt in her mind that she had perhaps been too hard on Severus, that thought was out the door as soon as she saw the dejected look on her little brother’s face.

“I want to be alone.” Harry said as soon as he saw her approaching. His eyes did not leave the pages of the book he was reading, but she could tell he wasn’t really reading.

“Too bad.” Ariel crossed her arms, “Second chances don’t include leaving the you alone when you’re upset.”

“It does when your dad hates me!” Harry threw straight back at her, “I… I can’t talk to _you_ about this, okay? I’ll be fine, I just need to be alone right now. I’ll be prepared next time… I…”

He broke off and began to cry silent tears, but Ariel could tell that it would be difficult for him to continue speaking without his voice cracking. It was then that she saw how small he looked again, how pale and young and defenseless the past fews day’s events had made him again. The fact that _her father_ had done the damage made her want to vomit.

Ariel sighed and fell onto the couch next to him.

“I just told Snape to sod off.” She said plainly, the words aloud sounding strange. They made her mouth taste weird.

He looked up, watery green eyes blinking up at her in shock, “You did _what?”_

“Damon told me what he did to you in class.” Ariel glared at the hands in her lap as she pulled herself into a crossed-legged position, “I… I just might spike his coffee for it.”

“You called him Snape.” Harry’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I did.” She nodded slowly, not even realizing it herself.

Harry’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, as though he didn’t believe her, “He’s always been a git to me. Why now?”

“Snape went out of his way to be terrible to you.” Ariel said, “So I’m going to go out of my way to be terrible right back.”

“And he wasn’t before?” He demanded.

“I thought he was just being… well, himself. Snape isn’t purposely nice to anyone… except me, I guess, but he also doesn’t target students on their first day of bloody school either.”

Harry quieted at this, turning away and wiping at his eyes and sniffling. “I thought he might like me just a little bit because I was put in Slytherin.” He told her in a small voice, “Tolerate me, in the very least. But he… he just hates me even _more.”_

She opened her mouth to say he couldn’t possibly have a good enough reason to hate him, and something clicked in her head that made her body feel pins and needles all over.

Harry must have taken her silence as her not knowing what to say, for he gathered his books to him and broke from the room without saying another word, leaving her alone and feeling as if she were sinking somewhere dark and unknown.

If her father had some super secret reason for disliking Harry, then that meant he’d lied about wanting to go and get him the night he’d said he didn’t resent her. And if _that_ had been a lie, then _that_ meant he _hadn’t_ wanted to go and get Harry. And if he hadn’t wanted to go and get Harry…

Ariel had spent _months_ thinking her brother didn’t want to be with them because she had intentionally or unintentionally done something. Even after their reunion at the Burrow, Ariel still hadn’t understood what had made Harry feel so strongly about having some space until school began. But if Severus had made it known to him when he’d gone and brought him to the Weasleys’…  it wasn’t like Harry was going to _tell her that himself._

She stared at the space ahead of her for a very long time and wondered when her rock had turned into an avalanche.

* * *

Severus hadn’t moved, but the hands on the clock had, and he’d been standing there for almost two hours now. He didn’t know how to move in the aftermath. He didn’t know if he even should try.

 _“_ His name is _Harry.”_ Ariel had looked at him with a fury that had made her already red face gain more color, as though trying to match her hair. A living flame, spitting embers at him with boiling fury.

“For Merlin’s sake, Severus, we were children! _James_ has grown up, moved on, become a better person… _”_ Lily had flung back at him twelve years ago, the emphasis on his rival’s name cutting him to the bone.

He wasn’t feeling the white hot rage he was sure would accompany her parting words. There was no overwhelming need to curse someone or destroy his quarters like his temper usually brought with it. It was as though Severus was being slowly drained from the inside out, a great heaviness descending upon his chest that kept him standing exactly where he had been when Ariel had fled.

The flame had gone out at his shout, Ariel’s face going ashen as she raised her arms in front of her and scattered backwards. Black eyes wide in fear — she had never looked at him like that, and Severus had vowed that she would never have to.

“Jesus fucking _Christ.”_ He forced out, finally falling back into his chair and ran a shaky hand through his hair. It was a cold day when Severus cursed to a Muggle deity, recalling echoes he overheard in his childhood.

That was not how he’d wanted to handle Potter in making sure that the boy did not come between him and his daughter. Perhaps he’d gone too far in class… he could have stopped if the boy had gotten the answers wrong. But that smug little smirk that the brat had worn after answering the potion master’s final question that clearly said _I won_ ; the arrogant flare that only James Potter or his offspring could carry…

Then there were emerald eyes looking at him with a silent plea followed by dejection, eyes that had mirrored the exact emotions that Ariel had worn just before she’d flown from the room.

_I choose Harry._

Severus’ blood boiled and the candlelight shone too brightly. His gums itched. His breathing quickened.

_You can hate the both of us._

And then it was gone, like the last breath of life snatched from his lungs mercilessly.

He peered up at the picture of Lily on the mantle as he cradled his head in between his hands. She was watching him with narrowed green eyes and arms tightly crossed across her chest in the exact fashion she had done when she was angry when she had been alive.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He muttered to her, nostrils flaring when she rolled her eyes. “Your daughter is going to kill me before I hit thirty-five. You don’t _get_ to be mad.”

Severus could have sworn she mouthed _“our”_ back at him and he nearly impaled himself with the quill he’d been writing with earlier. Instead, he shot a _Confringo_ at a potted plant Albus had given him three birthdays ago and pretended it was James fucking Potter.

It didn’t make him feel any better, and he considered the quill again.

“What do I do, Lily?” Severus whispered into his hands. “I can’t do this alone.”

Inside the picture, Lily had softened her eyes, but offered him nothing more.

He heard her calling in the dead of night with that voice that sounded like clear bells, awakening only to bury his face in his hands once more.

* * *

Harry spent that night hiding in the library. He’d contemplated sleeping there, but Madam Pince had found him just as he was making himself comfortable on the couches.

He’d dragged himself back to the Slytherin common room, jumping at every shadow, afraid Snape would emerge and give him another detention. Somehow, he made it without incident, though the common room was crowded. It was mostly older students Harry didn’t know yet, and Malfoy, along with another girl in his year who looked like a pug, and the boys that had flanked Malfoy on the train.

“Potter!” Malfoy called in a haughty voice. “What’s with the long face? Has your sister disowned you yet?”

Harry gritted his teeth and ignored him. He was worse than Dudley — at least Dudley was stupid. He could tell Malfoy was smart, and seemed to know a great deal more than he did about the wizarding world and Voldemort and the complications in-between.

Thankfully, Malfoy didn’t follow, and Harry went straight to his bed, falling to it without bothering to change. He was mentally and physically exhausted. He felt like he’d been carrying around a ton of bricks and then pelted by them. Sleep found him quickly and his dreams were plagued with Snape laughing at him, asking him questions about his parents that he didn’t know, and Ariel watching from afar, shaking her head at him.

He was woken up by someone calling his name. Harry lifted his head, half of him still stuck in his dreams, the other half looking at a blurry figure with dark hair leaning against his bedpost.

“Morning, Potter.” Damon’s voice said. “You have a summons.”

“W-wha?” Harry sat up, still groggy. “From who?”

“Snape.”

His eyes flew open all the way as a wave of panic washed over him.

“Jeez, relax.” Damon snorted. “I’m kidding — Ariel asked me to tell you to meet her at greenhouses after lunch. She wants to talk to you.”

Harry threw his pillow at him. “That’s _not_ funny!”

“You should have seen your face.” He chuckled. “You looked like Quirrell.”

“When did she tell you this?” Harry demanded, ignoring his joke. “It’s not even time for breakfast yet, is it?”

“We send notes back and forth.” Damon grinned. “Kind of hard to get together at night when you’re in different Houses.”

Harry opened his mouth to ask him if he could teach him how to do that with Ron, but snapped it shut when he saw Malfoy glaring at them from his bed. Damon followed his gaze, quirking an eyebrow at his cousin.

“Morning.” He smirked. “Did we wake you?”

Malfoy’s face darkened, and he threw off his covers, making a beeline straight for Harry’s bed. Both he and Damon stood, and he grabbed his wand from the bedside table, even though Malfoy was unarmed.

But he didn’t go for Harry — he went straight to Damon, and shoved him back roughly.

 _“Traitor.”_ Malfoy hissed, pivoting before either of them could respond, and stalked into the bathroom.

Harry blinked in shock, while Damon simply rolled his eyes. “What was _that_ about?”

“I didn’t exactly tell him I was friends with Ariel.” He shook his head. “I think he was ready to make you _his_ friend, to be quite honest, but when he saw you with Weasley, he probably felt threatened.”

“His _friend?”_ Harry made a face. “I’ll pass, thanks.”

Damon smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “His bark is worse than his bite. You don’t have to worry about him.”

“Yeah,” Harry said under his breath. “I’ll remember that.”

“I’ll let you get ready.” Damon pretended like he hadn’t heard him. “You might want to shower — you look like a caveman.”

He snickered as Harry threw another pillow at him. Damon was nice enough, but Harry didn’t know how Ariel dealt with him. He never seemed to take anything seriously — there was something frosty beneath everything he said. Harry made a note to ask her about him at some point.

Harry took longer in the shower than usual in order to miss breakfast so that he wouldn’t have to see his sister just yet, or Snape. Ron was sure to be missing him, but once Harry explained everything to him, he’d understand. He was the only one, besides Ariel obviously, that knew about Snape’s relationship with his sister.

Somehow, Harry managed to make it through double History of Magic that morning without incident — mainly by pretending to look at his textbook, and by picking up his quill whenever Professor Binns began asking questions. When they were finally dismissed at midday, he packed up his bag and rushed directly to the Great Hall. He took his seat quickly, starving, since he had made breakfast, and wolfed down the soup that was being served. Ron was watching him from the Gryffindor table, quirking an eyebrow at him, but Harry simply shook his head. He didn’t want to keep Ariel waiting — he owed her to not be _too_ late.

He noted that Snape was not at the High Table with the other professors as he stood up. Walking against the tide of hungry students, Harry headed out of the castle and towards the greenhouses. The grounds were bathed in soft, afternoon sunlight. Off in the distance, Harry could see smoke from Hagrid’s hut. Maybe he and Ron could go and see him this weekend… see if he could learn anything more about Snape…

Harry pushed open the glass door to Greenhouse One, and found that his sister was not alone.

“ — not allowed to be in here if class is not in session.”

“I’ve never heard that rule before.”

“You have a selective memory, it seems.”

It was Snape — complete with billowing robes and sneer. Ariel was seated on a stool, not seeming all that perturbed that he was towering over her like a snake ready to strike.

“Or _maybe,_ you just made it up because you know I’m meeting Harry here.” Ariel shot back, crossing her arms defiantly.

Snape didn’t respond to that. Instead, he gave a loud sigh, and when he spoke, his voice was velvet soft. “I’m here because I wanted to discuss… what happened last night.”

Harry leaned in closer. Ariel had said she’d told him off… but he hadn’t really believed her. How did you tell off _Snape?_ He looked like he’d annihilate anyone that tried… and he didn’t care about Harry, so why would he listen to Ariel?

“There’s nothing to discuss.” Ariel quipped back in a cool voice.

“Oh, I beg to differ.” Snape stepped closer to her. “Your little declaration was uncalled for.”

 _Declaration?_ What had happened, exactly? Harry was suddenly _very_ curious.

“I don’t think so.” She lifted her chin.

“So what do you plan to do? Excommunicate me?”

“No.” Ariel turned around in the stool, reaching into her rucksack to pull out an orange. “But I still don’t plan on speaking to you.”

“Well, it would seem you're not off to a very good start, then.” Snape said in a dangerous voice.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she began to peel her orange.

“This is ridiculous.” Snape hissed, smacking his hand down on the tabletop. He was standing right beside her now, trying to get her to look at him. “You cannot just _ignore_ me because you don’t like the way I handle myself around Potter.”

Nothing — she didn’t even turn her head.

 _“Ariel.”_ Snape growled.

Harry felt a smile creep over his face. The corner’s of Ariel’s lips had curved into a smug smirk, though Snape couldn’t see that since she was facing away from him. He’d gone so rigid that it looked like he might snap his wand. Harry leaned in, waiting for his response…

And then Snape’s head snapped in his direction, his eyes igniting as they held Harry’s. He nearly jumped back and hid behind the door, but Ariel looked up, and what looked to be a genuine smile appeared on her face.

“Harry!” Ariel called in a bright voice. Snape’s face had twisted into a fierce scowl — he looked like steam was going to come out of his ears any second.

She stood, pulling over another stool for him to join her.

“Um…” Harry took a step back. “I can come back…”

“No, we’re done here.” There was a cold undertone to her now-cheery demeanor.

Snape’s eyes narrowed — if looks could kill, Ariel would have dropped dead.

“Have you eaten?” Ariel began, offering him pieces of her opened orange before he even had a chance to answer.

“Er… yeah…”

“Are you still hungry? Here, I’ve got some apples too, if you want them…”

“No, thanks. I had soup.” Harry’s eyes darted between the fruit and Snape — maybe if he tried to attack, Harry could take him out with the apple — probably not, though.

Snape still hadn’t moved. He was glaring down at Ariel with a ferocity Harry couldn’t categorize. It was definitely full of anger, but there was something desperate in it too, like he was watching something happen that he couldn’t stop.

Ariel didn’t seem to notice. She patted the seat beside her, motioning for Harry to join her. If he did that, however, he’d be closer to Snape, and he didn’t think that was a risk he was willing to take right now.

Snape locked eyes with him again — Harry tried to keep himself steady, but his heartbeat tripled. The Man who had kept him safe at the Dursley’s, and Snape, Harry was quickly realizing, were too _very_ different people, and _both_ belonged to his sister.

“Mr Potter…” Snape drawled in a silky voice.

Ariel’s head finally whipped towards him, her dark eyes rolling like stormclouds. They flashed like lightning.

 _I dare you,_ her eyes said.

Snape’s face went blank, like he’d been Obliviated. Then, he stalked past Ariel and Harry without a single word, and flew out the door of the greenhouse.

He slammed the door with so much force that two potted plants crashed to the floor.

Ariel winced, but made no other indication that she might have just sent Snape on a rampage. Harry silently slid onto the stool beside her, and grabbed the apple she offered.

They sat a moment in silence, before Harry broke the peace.

“Damon said you wanted to talk to me.” He said quietly.

“I just wanted to check you were doing okay,” Ariel said, still staring at the tabletop. “I wanted to let you know that I really meant what I said yesterday, you know… about Snape… as long as he’s being cruel to you, I’m not speaking to him.”

“I kinda got that when I walked in.”

“He followed me here… I shouldn’t be surprised, really. I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”

“I told you…” Harry sighed. “it’s fine, Ariel. He’s your dad… you can’t _not_ speak to him. You both live in the same building, for Merlin’s sake. He’s one of our _professors.”_

“He’s being _unreasonable_.” Ariel muttered angrily.

Harry didn’t know if he liked this. He’d never been the cause of an argument, or made two people not speak to each other. He’d never been worth it. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had _always_ agreed on everything Harry-Related. It made him feel wonderfully terrible, like he was taking something he wanted that wasn’t really his.

“But you said he’s always unreasonable — there’s nothing special about his behavior, as far as I can see.” Harry tried to shrug it off. “Really, Ariel, it’s nothing. He’s probably like that to all the new Slytherins at one point or another, checking us all out and seeing what we’re like.”

“That’s not true, Harry… he’s picking on you and I won’t let him get away with it.” She rubbed her forehead. “I don’t want anything more to do with him as long as he’s acting like this. I told him that I choose you, and nothing’s going to change that. You’re stuck with me.”

Harry stared back at her with wondering, suspicious green eyes. Was it that easy for her, then? To let go of someone that had cared for her her whole life? He didn’t know every range of emotions Ariel was capable of, but she didn’t seem… upset. She just looked bitter, and annoyed, and tired.

“Won’t that just make him hate me even more, then?” Harry asked quietly. “You’re all he cares about.”

“He obviously doesn’t care about me if he’s _choosing_ to try humiliate you.” She finally looked at him, her black eyes endless. “I know he’s why you didn’t want to stay with us all summer, alright? I was in denial about it… because I didn’t want to believe Severus could… be that terrible.”

Harry’s mouth went dry — he hadn’t told Ariel that, for fear it would make things worse. He didn’t want to come in between Snape and Ariel. He _knew_ he didn’t have a place with the both of them, in whatever life they had outside of Hogwarts. Snape _had_ been the reason he’d left, yes, but Harry didn’t want to be the reason Ariel left _him._

But what did he care? Snape was a git… Snape was horrid and mean… Snape didn’t give a damn about him — why should Harry care how _he_ felt?

“I didn’t ask you to do this.” Harry swallowed roughly. “You don’t have to.”

“I _want_ to.” Ariel said, determination clear in her voice and face.

“But _why?”_ He finally blurted out.

Her face clouded over in confusion. “What do you mean? You’re my _brother!”_

“Yes… but, he’s your dad.”

“He’s _wrong.”_

“People have _always_ treated me like that!” Harry shot back, feeling angry all of a sudden. “I can handle it, okay? Snape did what he could when I was a kid, and he made it clear that he didn’t enjoy it, and you weren’t mad about _that!”_

“Yes I was!” Ariel argued, slamming down her orange. “I was furious when he told me he’d been going to see you all these years and hadn’t taken me! When I heard that the Dursley’s didn’t like you… when I _saw_ how they treated you, I felt like I was going explode. It’s kind of hard to stay mad at him when I _live_ with him… and he told me his reasons… but he doesn’t have any for _this.”_

“He didn’t tell you why?” Harry asked, unable to help himself. “What _happened_ last night? I heard you two talking before I came in… did you have a row?”

She picked away at the orange like she wanted to make it bleed instead of eat it.

“He’s different.” Ariel said in a hard voice, like her words were being carved in stone. “I don’t know why… it’s ever since I started seeing you when I went to sleep. I feel like I don’t know him anymore. Maybe I never have.”

“Different how?”

“He’s mad… _all_ the time. We barely talked this past summer. I mean, I was upset for the first half because you and I weren’t talking, but after that, he only seemed to get worse.”

 _Because of you,_ were the unspoken words hanging in the air between them.

Ariel took a deep, steadying breath. “I told him at the end of last term I didn’t want to choose. Severus… acted like I was being ridiculous, but I could tell there was _something_ bothering him. I don’t know what it is, but I’m going to find out. Last night… I said I’d choose you over him. If I had it my way… maybe even from the beginning.”

No one had ever said things that that to him before. Harry stared at her uncomprehendingly for a long moment, unable to process it all. He’d never had a sister… he’d dreamed of a family, but when he’d met Ariel and seen her with Snape, Harry had automatically assumed he’d be secondary to someone who had raised and cared for her.

“You’d of given up your life with him,” Harry felt his heartbeat in his mouth. “For me?”

Ariel didn’t answer. She looked away, looking torn and upset, like she was going to start crying. It was the way Harry had expected her to look after Snape had left, but for some reason, she was only appearing that way now.

Harry acted before he could think about it — he leaped up and hugged her.

He’d never hugged someone before. Mrs Weasley had… but that was different. Harry and Ariel were the same height, his arms latched around her neck. Ariel appeared startled, and then, she stood too, and embraced him back tightly.

Malfoy’s words floated back to him, and Harry realized that he had no idea what he was really talking about at all. He laughed.

“What’s funny?” Ariel asked, pulling away, but Harry held on.

“Nothing,” He smiled, looking at the smashed pottery Snape had left behind. “Absolutely nothing.”

* * *

Later that afternoon, all was quiet in the potions classroom. Severus exhaled slowly, placed his quill down on his desk, and brought his right hand up to his temple. His thumb and index finger began to rub in deep circles without a second thought, such was the tension that had been building up inside him since term began. It wasn’t even the end of the first week, but he had already had to endure more displays of stupidity and bouts of homesickness than any previous year to date. This year’s new snakes appeared to be the most challenging he’d encountered yet, and Severus sensed somehow that things had only just begun. And that was without even mentioning the _girl._

He closed his eyes and counted to ten, clearing his mind before continuing with the rest of the day ahead.

Severus double-checked his schedule for the afternoon to make sure he had no more classes before scanning the Slytherin first years’ timetable out of curiosity. He always liked to know where his charges should be, in case he had to herd them along to their next class from the corridors.

His heart momentarily leapt into his mouth, and then sank with a definite thud.

The first _Flying_ lesson was today… mother _fucking —_

Severus checked the time on the clock on the classroom wall. This was definitely _not_ what he needed right now.

He cursed under his breath, realizing that he had not had time to give the little monsters his annual pre-flight warning lecture yet. Usually it was delivered along with any other relevant Dire Warnings at the Slytherin house meeting on their first night, but suffice it to say that with a certain Mr Potter and a brand new Mr Malfoy joining the fold, Severus had been somewhat distracted. He had, at least, checked for any contraband brooms that may have been snuck into the grounds behind his back — and true to form, he found that young Draco had seen fit to disregard Hogwarts rules entirely, bringing a shining new Nimbus 1700 to show off to his new classmates. Severus took immense pleasure in confiscating it in front of the entire house, putting the boy firmly down a peg or three in the process. At least being limited to the battered old school brooms would prevent the students from jetting off at any real speed, Severus reconciled.

He pushed back his chair, stood swiftly, and strode out of the dungeons.

* * *

Harry had been excited about learning to fly ever since he’d seeing the Weasley boys darting about on their broomsticks over the summer.

Even though they had only been old hand-me-down brooms that were held together with scotch tape and maintenance Charms, it was clear to Harry that flying was something to be enjoyed, rather than used just as a means of transport. Mrs Weasley had made it quite clear, however, that she would not allow Harry Potter to start at Hogwarts with any broken bones, so he had had to make do with watching their games of backyard quidditch from an upstairs window. Now that the day of his very first flying lesson had finally arrived, Harry was beside himself with anticipation.

Damon had advised him that morning not to try and get ahead of himself, but just the thought of hovering off the ground — even if only a few inches —  was more than Harry could think about. Ariel had always made a face when they talked about it — she’d voiced her hatred for it back when she and Snape had taken him from the Dursley’s. He was also a bit relieved to find that the Slytherins were joining with the Gryffindors for this class, so at least he would have Ron on his side for a bit of help, should he need it. Harry was still trying to get his head around all of the inter-house politics at Hogwarts, but he was hoping that after spending all Summer practically glued to each other, Ron would surely not shirk him now.

Harry was lining up with the rest of his classmates along the side of the empty Quidditch pitch where they could take their first lesson safely away from any buildings or other students, when something that was becoming a familiar sight caught the corner of his eye.

 _“What now?”_ Harry groaned inwardly to himself as Snape came swooping in through the entrance to the stadium. Harry could clearly see why they called him a bat — he looked ridiculous.

“Slytherins!” Snape snapped, “A word, before your class begins.”

Harry and Ron shared an eye roll before he trudged away, dragging his school broom behind him as Draco shot him a sneer. Bloody prat. He hoped Draco fell off his broom or got caught in a tree.

“You will listen to Madam Hooch.” Snape was commanding down at all of them as Harry took his place in the back of the group, “If I hear of anything —  _pay attention, Parkinson! —_ I will make sure whoever is responsible scrubs cauldrons for a _week!_ Is that clear?”

There was a murmured chorus of _yes sir’s._

His eyes narrowed, “Flying is not a game, as many of you seem to treat it as. It can be dangerous if you don’t know _exactly_ what you are doing, and despite what many of you little dunderheads have been bragging about to your Housemates, flying about your home's mere inches above the ground does not count as _experience.”_

Harry tried to stifle a laugh as Draco’s ears turned bright red.

“So, with that being said…” Snape looked at each and every one of them, except for Harry, of course, “Do not embarrass your House. Do as you are told. And, for Merlin’s sake, do _not_ attempt to show off. I will not be by to see you if you land yourself in the infirmary with a broken Merlin-knows-what.”

There was a sea of jerky nods in his direction, and as quickly as he’d come, Snape slithered off.

* * *

Severus had no intentions whatsoever of leaving this first flying lesson in the hands of one adult. He knew that Malfoy and Potter, very much unlike the _other_ Malfoy and Potter, seemed to be at each other’s throats already, and it was only the second day of term. Severus had heard the younger Malfoy brag on more than one occasion about how Lucius had let him fly about the manor’s grounds, which Severus knew for a fact was a _lie,_ and how Potter had reacted. And if the boy was anything like his father, chances were that he would be a good flyer, which wouldn’t sit well with Malfoy at all.

How had it come to Severus Disillusioning himself and hiding behind a _bush?_ Had he really sunk so low? Watching _first years_ make fools of themselves on _brooms?_

Some spy _he_ was. He nearly snorted at the thought.

No sooner had Severus crouched down did Malfoy snatch an orb like object —  it appeared to be a Remembrall — out of Neville Longbottom’s hands.

“Give it _back!”_ The boy cried, both Potter and Weasley turning towards the yells.

Severus gritted his teeth and fought the urge to Hex the ball from the brat’s hands. Lucius, very much unlike his son, had never been so bold or outright in antagonizing other students. He’d been much better at it, though Severus supposed that was because Abraxas Malfoy had made sure Lucius turned out so or threatened death upon him. Draco was very much unlike Lucius is that way, for the boy had grown up showered in affection, and instead of being tactful and reserved, Lucius’ son seemed to have grown into nothing more than a spoiled brat.

Potter said something, half of the Slytherins seemingly taken his side, while the rest stood behind Malfoy. Weasley looked like he would kill to pounce. Severus almost stood and interceded, but Hooch finally walked into the arena, looking more hawk-like than usual, and asked the first years a question.

Malfoy tossed the ball back at Longbottom and sloped behind Crabbe and Goyle.

Crisis averted, Severus felt some of the tension leave his body as Hooch began to squawk at the class to put their broomsticks on the ground and summon them into their hands. At this point, he wondered if he should leave, wanting nothing more than to escape, but resigned himself to staying for at least the first half of the lesson.

It didn’t take long for disaster to strike. When Hooch ordered them to mount, Longbottom’s broom went straight up like a cork out of a bottle within seconds, he fell back to the ground in a heap. It seemed Potion’s were not his only flaw. The boy had managed to melt a cauldron his first day — _his first day —_ while working on a potion that didn’t even have melting _properties._

As Hooch rushed the blubbering brat off to Poppy, Malfoy said something aloud that made several other Slytherins break into laughter.

Potter shot something back that made Weasley nod in approval.

And then Malfoy’s eyes fell to the ground, the sun reflecting off of the object in the grass. He scooped it up in one swoop and held it up — the Remembrall.

Potter stalked ahead to the front of the group and snapped at him. Severus wished he could get closer, but stayed put and watched as the boys began to argue.

“Give it _here!”_ Potter finally yelled.

And then Malfoy, the bloody ball of deaf ignorance, hopped atop his broom and floated several feet in the air, holding the Remembrall out to Potter, “Come and get it, then!”

Hooch should have beaten them all with brooms before they’d begun in order to get her fucking rules through their thick heads.

 _“No!”_ shouted Granger, “Madam Hooch told us not to move! You’re both going to get us all in trouble!”

And then Malfoy threw the blasted ball and Potter was suddenly airborne — disobedient _brat —_ and Severus was shooting forward with his wand pointed at him and a cushioning Charm on his lips. Somehow, the little cretin managed to snatch the Remembrall and twist his broom in such a fashion that defied physics in a way Severus didn’t have the patience to think of, saving himself, though just barely, from smashing himself into paste against the stones of Hogwarts.

_“Potter!” Lily screamed furiously as the boy flew over her head for the eighth time, “Potter, you give me back my wand this instant —”_

_Black was hooting with laughter, holding his stomach as though it may rip open any moment. Severus wished it would._

_“Go on a date with me then, Evans.” Potter called down in that tone of voice that made all the other girls swoon. Severus nearly Hexed him off his broom._

_“Take a hint, Potter!” He snarled instead, pointing his wand as he began to turn his broom in a figure-eight pattern, “For once in your fucking miserable life, why don’t you just piss off?”_

_“Severus!” Lily chastised his language, grabbing the front of his wand in order to block the Curse that he’d been about to cast, “I have this.”_

_“Just one date!” Potter called, “One date, and ol’ Snivellus will eat his words. Or, hopefully choke on them. I have to admit, I’d enjoy that more.”_

_Severus snapped in that moment, wrestling his wand from Lily’s grasp and pointing it straight at Potter and shouting, “Stupefy!”_

_His eyes widened as the red light hit his broom, sending him spiraling towards the wall and holding onto the broom head for dear life..._

He was going to murder the little beasts. _Slowly._

“Severus!” Minerva, appearing out of thin air — undoubtedly surveying her Gryffindor’s for future Quidditch players — was sputtering as he un-Disillusioned himself and stalked forward, the shout of _“POTTER!”_ sending a group of suddenly terrified looking eyes his way. Potter slowly descended to the ground, holding the Remembrall in his hands and looking reproachful.

“Severus… never in all my years!” Minerva was beside herself, “I can’t believe it… the boy!”

“Wait till I get my hands on him.” Severus agreed, his fiercest glare centered on Potter.

“I don’t believe it… Gryffindor will need to bulk up… perhaps more intense training…”

He stopped short, rounding on the witch, _“Excuse me?_ Are we talking about how that little _idiot_ almost flew into a bloody _wall,_ or —”

“He’s remarkable!” Minerva went on, shaking her head in disbelief, “In all my years… not even _James…_ and to know that he’ll play for _Slytherin…”_

“He is _not_ playing Quidditch!” Severus snarled, completely bewildered as to how Minerva hadn’t throttled the boy herself by now, “He’s only a first year!”

“Severus Snape, if you let that talent go to waste —”

“He is _not_ in your House, Minerva!”

All the first years were watching them bicker with an interest that made Severus wish he had just stayed behind the fucking bush. Potter looked confused.

“Detention, Potter!” Severus seethed, grabbing the bloody Remembrall from the boy’s hands as an outraged cry reached his ears. Even Minerva looked taken aback, knowing quite well it had been _Malfoy_ who had instigated, but he didn’t care. The boy had nearly made an omelette of himself and everyone was acting as if he should be _rewarded…_

He could practically hear the boy bragging to Ariel later tonight about his stunt; _“I almost broke my neck today! I could have been paralyzed for life! I was brilliant!”_

Severus pretended not to notice the obsidian eyes that broke a glass he’d been drinking from at dinner.


	20. I Bet My Life

September transitioning into October was much more eventful than the previous year.

For one thing, Ariel had more than one friend this time around, even though half of them were in Slytherin, and one of them was her brother. She didn’t know if that counted, but it was rather nice to have options in company, especially since she wasn’t speaking to —

Well, that wasn’t important. What was important was Harry, and making sure he was alright.

The school seemed to come down from the Potter-Slytherin-Sorting ordeal once classes began. It had been very strange for Ariel, those first several weeks, because when she’d pictured Harry coming to Hogwarts, she’d imagined him in Gryffindor Tower, with her. It had taken her a day or so to remember that he was just down in the dungeons — that Harry was _here,_ just not the next room over.

Ron had kept true to his word and not abandoned Harry, and Damon had told Ariel he’d been keeping an eye on him in the dungeons, since she couldn’t rely on Severus to do so. Most meals were spent with Ron telling Ariel about whatever travesty had happened upon him that day. After the Flying lessons, these stories seemed to lessen in grandeur, but Ariel found them all entertaining. It certainly beat eating meals alone, like she had last year. Harry had even migrated over to the Gryffindor table some days — Fred and George Hexed anyone that gave them a problem. Damon still didn’t dare, and Ariel didn’t try and change his mind.

Ariel tried to keep out of her dormitory, but it was rather hard when it was where she slept at night now, the option of escaping away to the dungeons an unexpected development. Katie and Sally dominated the room most of the time, and their chilly demeanor towards her last year had only seemed to have gotten colder with Harry’s arrival. They hadn’t said a word, but Ariel could tell that they were only more wary of her now that Harry had been Sorted into Slytherin.

There was only one other person who seemed to put off the girls in Gryffindor more than Ariel did, and that girl was Hermione Granger.

Ariel had discovered this rather quickly as September rolled on by. Granger wasn’t around her often, since they were in separate years, but with her not speaking to Severus, Gryffindor Tower had become compromised even moreso. Something had rubbed Ariel the wrong way about Granger on the train — the way she’d stated who they were as if it needed to be told to them. Her father had kept her out of the spotlight as a child, making sure that she was rarely seen, but since she’d started school, no one had really questioned her about her past — well, except for Damon.

Ariel seemed to have nowhere to hide from her, and she had _several_ hiding spots. The library had been discovered first, where she’d been writing a Charms essay, only to have Granger interrupt by plopping down beside her.

“What… what are you doing?” Ariel had asked, recoiling.

“Studying, same as you.” Granger had replied. Then she’d opened her _own_ Charms textbook, and begun reading.

Granger was quickly gathering a Know-It-All reputation, mostly fueled by Ron, who was the only one that seemed to be beating Ariel in the Disliking Granger category. Ariel hadn’t been one for gossip, mostly since she and Harry were usually at the center of it, but Ron’s favorite pastime seemed to be talking about how much he couldn’t stand Granger. Harry had been indifferent — Ariel was trying to get him on board.

Harry had responded to Severus by studying, which Ariel found was Harry-Speak for avoiding problems. Admittedly, it was hard to face the issue when the issue was being a giant git, and so she didn’t try and talk about it. She had to trust that if something was still bothering him, he’d come to her. Most weekends and free time, he went to go and see Hagrid with Ron. Ariel took that time to stay behind at the castle with Damon. They always set aside time after dinner, though, where they’d go to the library until curfew.

Severus and Ariel hadn’t spoken one word to each other and even though her resolve was strong, she felt herself bending. She missed him, but Ariel wasn’t about to let _him_ know that, or Harry, for that matter. He’d even stopped handing back her essays, her graded work on potions done in class. It didn’t bother Ariel much, since she knew what she was doing, but the way he glided over her… he handed back _Damon’s_ work, but not hers.

She wondered if he missed her too.

It was soon a well known fact who Harry still had to look out for, however, and that person went by the name of Draco Malfoy. Damon had assured both Ariel and her brother that he could keep him at bay, but if anything, it sometimes seemed like Harry _wanted_ Draco to antagonize so he could have a reason to retaliate. There had been more than one occasion in which Draco had challenged Harry to a duel, but Damon had shut _those_ meetings down quicker than Mrs Norris on the hunt for a student out of bed.

These developments changed, however, on Halloween, along with other things.

“Have you seen him?” Ariel asked worriedly as she craned over the sea of students filing into the Great Hall, tugging on Damon’s arm. 

“Not since this morning.” He shook his head, “I’m sure Ron’s with him.”

“No… Ron’s over there with Seamus…” She bit her lip and continued scanning the crowd.

“He’s in the library.” said Granger’s voice. It reminded Ariel very much like the part of her conscious she wanted to smash with a hammer on occasion.

She whipped around to find Granger watching her and Damon with a smug smile, as if to say, “ha, finally something I’ve said you can’t ignore.”

“Thanks.” Ariel said, biting the inside of her cheek.

Damon coughed away a laugh. He’d found her distaste for Goody-Genius-Gryffindor-Granger amusing for some reason she couldn’t fathom. He’d teased her, saying that if they were in the same year, Ariel would have competition when it came to grades, but that was entirely untrue and besides the point. She was simply annoying.

“Don’t mention it.” Granger said as she bounced away, alone as always, book hugged tightly to her chest. Ariel almost stuck her tongue out at her back, but stopped when she caught sight of the look on the girl’s face. She looked like someone who’d just conquered a mountain.

“Save us seats.” Ariel told Damon just before she pushed past the throng of students and back out into the Great Hall, not noticing how Severus’ eyes flashed up at the High Table at her sudden departure.

Harry was where she always found him — in the very back of the library where she and Damon had taken to hiding from her father last year, hunched over a large text that Ariel recognized at once.

 _“Hogwarts, a History”_ Ariel rolled her eyes as she leaned against a bookshelf, “Has Granger finally gotten to you, then?”

“It’s a good read!” Harry argued, “And she’s pretty smart… I figured it couldn’t hurt to read it since she’s obviously competition.”

“Well, in case you’ve forgotten, it’s _Halloween.”_ She snatched the book out from underneath him, “And the competition is going to the Feast just like everyone else. Let’s go!”

“I’m not going.” He answered automatically.

Ariel blinked, “What? What do you mean? We _have_ to go!”

“Professor McGonagall said it was optional.” Harry reached for the book, but she held it up higher and away from his hands.

“Harry, it’s your first Halloween here… it’s a tradition.” She frowned when he just huffed in annoyance, “Come on, what’s wrong?”

He hesitated.

Ariel’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, “Did Snape do something again?”

“No,” Harry rolled his eyes, “he’s barely looked at me since the first day.”

“Then what is it?” Ariel dropped the book on the table and fell into the chair across from him.

“It’s _Halloween.”_ He said pointedly, as if that was the answer itself.

There was another pair of dark eyes blinking in confusion at him.

Harry sighed loudly, grabbing the book from the center of the table and sliding it towards him, “It’s the night that… well, you know.”

Something went _click_ in her head that made her stomach lurch forward and a cold breeze slide against her spine.

“I wanted to spend tonight alone.” He said softly as her eyes softened in comprehension, “Kind of… in honor of them, I guess. It didn’t feel right going to the Feast…”

Ariel raised an eyebrow, “And you thought to do that in the library?”

“Well, where else can we go that’s quiet?” Harry snapped.

“How about the Astronomy Tower?” She bowed her head, eyes glued to the table, “We could… I could go light candles… make something out of it, maybe? The sky is nice enough tonight too…”

When she heard him moving to stand did she look up, his eyes shining with unspoken gratitude and a sadness that she had always known, but never shared.

“Let’s go.” said Harry.

* * *

Candles, Harry and Ariel found, were much harder to come by than expected.

As soon as they exited the library, Ariel had stopped short, like she’d just realized something. When Harry had asked her what was wrong, she’d shaken her head at him and dragged him all the way up to Gryffindor Tower, where she made him wait outside of the Fat Lady’s portrait. She’d grown used to him waiting outside — at the start of year, she’d belittled Harry whenever he was waiting for Ron or his sister, but now, she seemed to have accepted that Harry wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

When Ariel finally reappeared, she was holding a wicker basket filled with already half-used candles. She looked incredibly disappointed.

“I thought I’d brought them up here with me.” She sighed, sifting through them, as if they would be brand new ones at the bottom. “The better ones must be down in Severus’ quarters… and I don’t think finding out would be such a good idea.”

No — waltzing into Snape’s quarters with his sister and asking for candles to commemorate the anniversary of their parent’s death _definitely_ didn’t seem like a good idea. 

“They’ll do just fine.” Harry grabbed her arm. “Let’s go, before the Feast lets out. You said the Astronomy Tower, right?”

Ariel nodded. “There’s an alcove on the stairs up that has a great view of the grounds. There’s enough room to sit and stuff.”

“Perfect.”

They made a beeline for the Astronomy Tower staircase, which was very long, and very high up. Harry didn’t mind the walk, but what he _did_ mind was someone finding them before they got there. Ariel told him that they had to move quickly, because Snape attending the Feast was a hit or miss, though she told him that he rarely went, which meant there was a possibility he was out patrolling the corridors. And if he _had_ gone to the Feast, he would have noticed by now that Ariel and Harry weren’t there. It didn’t need to be said that he’d come looking, even if he hated Harry and Ariel wasn’t speaking to him.

When they hit the third twist in the stairs, Harry stopped, recognizing the spot at once.

“This is where you took me when we brought me to Hogwarts!” He grinned, the view as breathtaking as ever.

“I’m surprised you remember.” Ariel climbed up, motioning for Harry to hand her the basket. “There’s a dozen other spots in the castle just like this but… this one’s my favorite.”

As Harry climbed up, Ariel removed her wand from her sleeve and began lining the candles along the edge. “I don’t know if these’ll even light.” She grimaced, inspecting one that looked like little more than a stub. “We should’ve seen if there were any in the kitchens.”

“We could’ve tried the Great Hall.” Harry joked. “There must be hundreds — they wouldn’t notice if a couple went missing.”

She giggled. “Could you imagine if we just strolled in and started knocking down candles?”

Harry laughed — Ariel had gone solemn as she touched the tip of her wand to one of the candles, beaming when the wick flickered to life.

“Help me with the rest.” She gestured to the remaining, unlit candles on Harry’s side, and they set to work. He was just as surprised as he was — the flames didn’t go out the second they took. They burned bright, lighting up the small alcove. Harry wondered if he were to stand at the edge of the Forest, if he’d been able to see them from there.

“Alright,” Ariel lit the last of the candles. “I don’t have any pictures, unfortunately. They’re all in Snape’s quarters. I… er… burned the only one I kept on me. So much for a memorial…” 

“You _burned_ it?”

“For that spell… the one that made you pass out last year.”

“Oh,” Harry was troubled by this. “Why’d you have to _burn_ it?”

Ariel shrugged. “Dad — er, Severus said dark magic requires sacrifice.”

“You used _dark magic_ to find me?” His eyebrows furrowed as Ariel arranged the candles by the ledge. “I thought it was just a kind of locator charm!”

“I didn’t know. Damon suggested it to me to act like he was helping. He didn’t think I’d actually _want_ to use it.”

“So… why did you?”

“Severus wasn’t telling me anything.” Ariel muttered. “He was being insufferable. I couldn’t take it anymore. I kind of… snapped.”

Harry snorted. “Well, at least he’s consistent.”

She lightly swatted him with her wand. “Quiet, you.”

He grinned. “What did he do when he found out you used that spell?”

“He freaked out — fire and brimstone and all that.”

“He used to do that with the Dursley’s.” His smirk faded slowly. “Dudley chased me into a tree once, and I couldn’t get down… I was too high up. When Snape found me, I thought he was going to hit the roof.”

That had happened a lot, actually. Most times, Harry had been able to scramble down after a couple of hours. When Dudley was on his computer after dinner, which was the case every night, Harry would bolt for the cupboard and try to barricade himself inside it. After Snape had made the Dursley’s give Harry Dudley’s second bedroom, he’d been able to lock that door. There were times though, when Harry would wait too long, or he couldn’t get out of whatever situation he was in, and Snape would appear out of thin air. He’d yell Harry’s ears off the entire way back to Privet Drive, but Harry never got punished.

“That’s why I convinced myself that the way Severus acted around you was normal.” Ariel said after a long moment, her head bowed. “He protected you all those years… even if he made you stay there. I figured he must care a _little_ to… but I guess I was wrong.”

“He was never… horrid to me.” Harry picked at a piece of lint stuck to his cloak. “He was just… well, you know. He acted bothered whenever he came We rarely spoke more than a few words. When I went to go stay with the Weasleys, Mrs Weasley always got a funny look on her face whenever I talked about you and Snape, like she couldn’t believe it, even though Dumbledore had explained the situation to her.”

“It’s a big secret.” Ariel shrugged. “I’ve no idea why. I don’t think Severus wants people associating him with the word _parent.”_

“Then why was it _him?”_ Harry demanded, feeling everything, all his questions and confusion sweep him away. “Mr Weasley told him that after Mum and Dad died, there were _hundreds_ of families that volunteered to take us… but you got Snape. I know _one_ of us had to go under those… wards, but why did you go to _Snape?”_

Ariel gave him a searching look, like she was trying to figure something out with the color of his eyes. “I think because… he… he knew Mum.”

Harry blinked uncomprehendingly. “He… _what?”_

“I don’t know much.” She looked terribly guilt ridden all of a sudden. “I found Severus with a picture of her one night, and he said he knew her. I always asked… because no one liked talking about them, but all I ever got out of him was that they were friends at some point.”

Harry tried to picture his mum — beautiful and laughing and bright — friends with _Snape._ It was like trying to imagine the sun and the moon in the same sky, them sharing it and somehow not making it look odd.

“So… then _that’s_ why he took you.” Harry concluded slowly.

Ariel made a vague motion with her hands. “I guess.”

“I mean… it would make sense, wouldn’t it?”

“I don’t know how close they were. I just know they were friends at some point… I don’t think it had been when we were born, or even when Mum and Dad got married.”

“How do you know for sure?”

“He’s not in any pictures.” Ariel sighed heavily. “None of their wedding… none of us as babies. There are _other_ people — I have no clue who in Merlin’s name they are — but no Severus.”

They candles flickered, the wicks dimming as the conversation did the same. Harry let his gaze drift from his sister and to the grounds, grinning as he watched Hagrid barrelling up towards the school, obviously late for the Feast. He tried to imagine his parents walking those same grounds, maybe out by the lake, or where he and Ariel were sitting right now. There was so little he knew about them — Harry had hoped Ariel could illuminate things, but she seemed to know about as much as he did at times.

“No one talks about them.” said Harry. “About Mum and Dad. It’s like… like how no one says Voldemort’s name.” 

“I asked Dumbledore once.” Ariel still wouldn’t look at him. “He said it’s because… they knew them, and it’s… difficult to talk through the pain of their memory. It’s different for me and you, because we didn’t know them like Severus and McGonagall and Dumbledore did.”

The wind howled, interrupting Harry’s next thought. The treetops in the distance shook and trembled, like an audience watching their conversation, eager to know where it was headed. Harry had so many questions… so many things he wanted to ask Ariel about Snape and what she saw in him that everyone else didn’t. He didn’t want to offend her though, or make her uncomfortable… but he had to know…

“Can I ask you something?” Harry asked, testing the waters.

Ariel looked away from the view, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion, but she nodded.

“What was he like?” He looked away now, unable to meet her eyes, afraid of what he might find there. “When you were a kid?”

“What do you mean?”

“Was he…” Harry hesitated. _“Nice?_ I mean… I heard what Snape said to you the night you came and got me. Didn’t he tell you that he… loved you and stuff?”

She appeared startled by this. “I… he was… I mean… no — no, he never said any of that, at least, not to me, he didn’t. He doesn’t have to.”

“So… he was how he is… around everyone else?”

“He was… dad.” Ariel had followed his gaze, her eyes in the past now. “When I was really little… from what I can remember, he was… protective. I don't really remember him being anything else. I always remember being under him… him telling me to stay close, afraid if I was out of his sight I’d get into trouble. Severus was always near me… but then when I would try and… y’know, like, sit with him, he would act like he didn't like it. When I was older, around six, I guess, Dumbledore told me about Voldemort and our parents. It was after that… Severus started acting different. He didn't hover anymore… a lot of times he acted bothered by me. We had some good moments, but he was really distant. I started to think that maybe it was because Dumbledore had _made_ him take me.”

“Did he?” Harry asked quietly.

Ariel shook her head. “I never got the specifics, but I think Dumbledore offered, and for some reason… Severus said yes. I don't know why. He hates kids.”

“I don't think he hates you, though.” Harry said. “All those years he’d come to see me… he never looked at me or the Dursleys the way he looks at you.”

Ariel went a shade paler, and then flushed crimson, pushing her scarlet hair from her face. Her dark eyes were sparkling, and it took Harry a minute to realize she was fighting back tears.

“Don’t get me wrong.” Her voice was thick. “I was really happy… it’s just that as I got older… I realized that Severus might not have been. I know he loves me… in his own way, I guess. It’s just hard to believe that when lately he’s been acting so…”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that, so he didn’t say anything. He didn’t know how a parent should love, how a parent should act, because he’d never had one. Snape had been the closest thing to a guardian, and he hated him — maybe even more than the Dursley’s did.

“I’m sorry you don’t know the person who raised me.” Ariel wrapped her arms around her knees. “I miss him. I don’t know where he went.”

He’d seen glimpses of who she was talking about — the way he watched Ariel when she wasn’t looking, how his eyes would focus, the way his demeanor would shift. It was like a person trying touch a ghost and getting nothing but air.

“Can I ask…” Ariel swallowed. “What the Dursleys… before Severus came… what they did?”

The question took him completely off guard — Harry jumped.

“I’m sorry,” Ariel apologized quickly, looking mortified, “you don’t have too —”

“No, it’s okay.” Harry shook his head and frantically tried to rack his brain for the right words to tell his sister without upsetting her too much. “They never liked me, much. Dudley’s not the brightest crayon in the box… I could get away with certain stuff when I was younger. He was just always… _bigger_ than me.”

“He’s a blimp.” She muttered. “When I saw all those pictures on the mantle, I thought I was looking at a pig wrapped in a blanket.”

Harry laughed. “I told him that once. Aunt Petunia tried to whack me with a frying pan for it.”

All traces of humor left Ariel’s face.

“She tried to hit you,” She repeated back slowly. “With a _frying pan?”_

 _“Tried,_ yes. I’m pretty fast, you know. That’s usually how I got past Dudley.”

“They didn’t…” Ariel paused. _“Hit_ you ever, right?”

“No.” Harry rolled his eyes. “I think Uncle Vernon was afraid of what my magic might do if he did. Dudley did, but I think that’s different.”

“Good.” She growled. “Brilliant to know they had limits.”

“It wasn’t so bad.” Harry said to his knees. “Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon gave me the cupboard to sleep in, and I had to cook breakfast and lunch for them, and do yard work and housework and stuff like that. I didn't mind it, really… it kept me busy. Once Snape came, though, it stopped. They ignored me most of the time.”

Ariel looked horrified. “They made you a bloody house elf!”

He blinked. “A _what?”_

“A house — nevermind, but, Harry…”

Harry wondered if their parents had known that their lives together would have been spent apart. He was briefly reminded that this moment was meant to be for _them,_ and instead, they were talking about Snape and the Dursley’s — two of his least favorite people.

“Can I tell you something?” Ariel whispered.

Harry jerked out a nod.

“Severus said Aunt Petunia didn't want me.” She was wringing her hands in her robes — it looked like she was straining her hands, and Harry wondered if she was hurting herself. “When I finally demanded to see you… I think Severus was trying to shake me off by telling me, but, he said that Petunia would take you, but not me. When Severus told me that… at first I thought there must be something wrong with me, and that's why Petunia refused, and it was the same reason why Severus acts the way he does sometimes.”

Harry didn’t think he heard her right, for a minute. He didn’t want to believe that — that they’d been so close to never being apart, ever, and they’d both spent it that way. That he’d spent his childhood not knowing where he would end up, trying _so_ hard to believe that what Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia told him wasn’t true, and that even though Ariel had grown up knowing everything and what lay ahead, maybe… maybe she still felt like…

He hated the Dursley’s even more than he ever had, with that admission. It hadn’t been Snape or Dumbledore or even the people after them that had kept them apart… it had simply been Aunt Petunia.

“I thought Snape was my dad.” He said, trying to fix the conversation. “Like… real, biological dad. I asked him once.”

A funny looked passed over Ariel’s face. “What did he say to that?”

“I think his head almost exploded.”

“I’d bet my life on that.” She snorted.

“Well,” Harry said against her shoulder. “You dodged a bullet, either way.”

“A what?”

“You know… like a gun?”

“What’s a gun?”

Harry snorted. “Did Snape raise you in the middle of nowhere?”

“Basically.” Ariel rolled her eyes. “We’re the only wizards living smack in the middle of a Muggle town, but he never taught me anything remotely Muggle-related. He doesn't care for them much.”

 _He doesn’t care for a lot of things,_ Harry thought to himself. He almost said it aloud, but didn’t think Ariel needed to hear it.

Sometimes, you didn’t need to say what was already known.

* * *

When the last of the candles had gone out, which hadn’t been long after that, Ariel and Harry had cleaned up their sad attempt at trying to remember their parents, and decided to try and swipe some food leftover from the Feast at the kitchens. Ariel had wanted to actually still _go,_ but Harry still wasn’t budging on the matter. She’d conceded, because it was probably over by now anyway.

“Hold on a minute,” Ariel said as they walked down the corridor, leading to the kitchens. “I have to use the loo.”

“Hurry up!” Harry called as she pushed the door open, rolling her eyes at his impatience.

A foul stench filled her nose as she pushed the door open, filling her nose with a scent that reminded her of old socks or a toilet that had never been cleaned.

 _“Bleck!”_ She heard Harry gag as the door swung shut, “What _is_ that? I thought _my_ bathroom smelled bad after Goyle used it.”

Ariel was just about to reply that it was probably just Draco when she heard a low grunting and the shuffling of something heavy —  almost like footsteps — coming from behind her.

Her heart leaped up into her throat and she choked on her response. There, standing in front of her, was a _troll,_ clutching a giant wooden club in it’s hand and blinking uncomprehending at her for a moment.

 _“Harry!”_ Ariel called in a loud whisper, her voice cracking. The troll’s ears twitched at the noise.

The door creaked open slightly, “How are you standing that bloody _smell?_ What is it?”

“Harry.” She repeated slowly as the troll stepped forward, it’s giant foot making the ground quake beneath her, “There’s a troll in here.”

There was a pause, and then, “A _what?”_

The troll roared and advanced, barrelling towards Ariel as she jerked open the door, blindly grasping for her brother’s hand and pulling him forward with such force that it was a wonder she didn’t pop his arm out of it’s socket.

 _“RUN!”_ Ariel shrieked as the door to the bathroom went flying off it’s hinges, slamming against the wall adjacent to where Harry and Ariel had just been standing themselves.

“We can’t!” Harry gripped her arm back, green eyes widening in panic as they stood at the end of the corridor and watched the troll’s mean little eyes staring at them, hesitating in the bathroom doorway. “The Feast is still going on… we have to get it away from here!”

 _“How?”_ Ariel asked, still tensed to run and shaking from head to toe. The troll was still watching them.

Harry looked around wildly before his green eyes landed on something, staring at it until Ariel followed his gaze and found that there was a metal pipe laying beside the shattered door. She shot forward, grabbing the pipe and flew back to Harry’s side.

“Now what?” Ariel asked, chest heaving.

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off when the sound of voices at the other end of the corridor interrupted them, all their eyes, including the troll’s, flashing towards the new noise.

“Now you listen here, Ronald Weasley —”

“Will you _bugger off_ already, Hermione? He’s _my_ best mate, and if there’s a troll on the loose, I’m not letting him or Ariel sit in that library until they became troll food!”

Two familiar figures stopped short at the sight, all four of them locking eyes with one another, wide with surprise, until they all shot towards the troll, who looked dumbstruck, in the girl’s bathroom doorway.

“Don’t — say — a — _word.”_ Ariel hissed into her brother’s ear, her hold on his arm vise-like.

Nothing but the stench of troll and labored breathing filled the tense silence until Granger let out a banshee like shriek. The troll’s nostrils flared as it finally stomped out of the doorway and turned it’s back on Ariel and Harry so it could round on Ron and Granger.

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me.” Ariel muttered under her breath.

“What’re we going to do?” Harry asked, looking around desperately.

“Get ready to run, is what.” Ariel answered, stepping forward and throwing her arm holding the metal pipe back in preparation, “ _OY! PEA-BRAIN!”_ She shouted at the troll’s back.

He turned it’s head, as though she was suddenly a side thought.

Ariel chucked the pipe at it’s back. It hit him square in the shoulder, but if anything, her yell seemed to have affected it more than the hit. It’s ugly snout turned back towards her as Harry yelled a _“RUN!”_ at Ron and Hermione, who were now blocked from their view.

Granger let out another scream. That only seemed to drive the troll more berzerk. It roared again and started towards them. Ariel grabbed the sleeve of her brother’s robes, and they began to skitter backwards.

And then Ron did something that Ariel couldn’t figure out if she thought was very smart or very stupid — he must have taking a great, running jump, for suddenly, he was dangling around the troll’s neck and shoving his wand up his nose.

Ariel’s jaw dropped at the sight as the troll howled and twisted in pain. The club was flailing about dangerously, and for a terrible moment, she was quite sure that it was going to hit him or one of them, for the troll had stomped forward, and they had barely moved.

Harry seemed to recover more quickly, taking a few steps forward, but not letting go of his sister’s robes, and shouted, _“Wingardium Leviosa!”_

The club flew out of the troll’s hand, flying high into the air, and then dropped with a sickening crack onto it’s own head, falling to the ground with a thud that nearly sent Harry and Ariel falling over themselves.

Ron rolled off the troll’s back, visibly shaking, as Ariel, Harry, and Granger all shot forward.

“Are you alright, mate?” Harry asked as Ron leaned his hands on his knees.

“Right as rain.” He replied with a shaky laugh, “Thanks, Harry. I thought he’d throw me off for sure.”

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the four of them look up. It was then Ariel realized the terrible racket they must have been making, between the crashes and roars and screams and prayed like hell her father wasn’t about to round that corner.

The first thing she saw was the inky black hair and the concentrated scowl and suddenly, the troll’s smell wasn’t the only thing making her want to vomit. McGonagall was right behind him, followed closely by Hagrid, who bent down to look at the fallen troll.

“What in Merlin’s name —” Ariel had never see McGonagall look so furious, lips white and eyes piercing, “What are _you four_ doing here? You’re supposed to be in your _Houses!”_

Her face didn’t hold a candle to how Severus looked. Ariel saw Ron and Granger cringe away from her father, who had both hands clenched tightly at his sides, teeth bared, and a vein pulsing violently in his forehead.

All three first years looked to the second year, who was opening and closing her mouth like a fish.

“We uh… we um…” Ariel’s eyes darted about, trying to avoid the glares and imploring eyes that had all landed on her at once, “We… well…”

“Please, Professor!” Granger cried suddenly, giving Ariel momentary relief as everyone looked at her instead, “When Professor Quirrell came in at dinner and began shouting about the troll, we knew Ariel and Harry weren’t there and went to go and tell them! The troll had cornered them —”

Severus’ ice cold glare had turned burning hot, but he still had yet to utter a single word.

“And then the troll tried attacking _them.”_ Harry cut in, “We had to do _something.”_

“You could have been smashed to smithereens!” McGonagall said a brittle voice, heavy under the weight of her fury, “What in Merlin’s name were you all thinking, taking on a full grown mountain troll?”

Now all four children exchanged a look, causing Severus to take a menacing step forward.

“With all due respect, Professor,” Granger said, “what else were we supposed to have done?”

Now three of them were gaping like sea creatures at the usually reserved, polite, _respectful,_ young Gryffindor. McGonagall sputtered at Granger’s words while Severus looked like he was itching to grab Ariel. She took a protective step backwards, but made sure she was still clutching Harry’s arm.

“And we _did_ knock it out…” Ron offered, making McGonagall’s own nostrils flare as the troll’s had just minutes ago.

But then she did something Ariel did not expect. McGonagall, instead of having steam come whistling out her eyes, sighed, and clasped her hands tightly together in front of her.

“Very well.” She said in a voice that clearly said _I-condone-none-of-this,_ “I suppose the circumstances were… not as they should have been. Fifteen points to Gryffindor, and five to Slytherin.”

Granger and Ron beamed while Ariel and Harry exchanged a relieved look.

And then her father spoke.

“You two.” Sharp eyes stared both her and her brother down, a single finger beckoning them forward, “With _me.”_

Neither moved a muscle. Even Ron paled.

 _“Now.”_ Severus barked when they did not comply. Ariel tugged at the robes that had still not left her grip, and they fell forward and followed the billowing black mass that led the way down to the dungeons.

“He can’t punish us.” Harry hissed to her as they walked, or more, _ran_ in order to keep up with her father’s long strides, “We did nothing wrong!”

Ariel didn’t answer. She had lost all reasoning when it came to explain why Severus did the things he did. She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up when he tugged the door to his office open, pointing to their two chairs in front of his desk wordlessly. They both sat, but they both itched to bolt from the room the second their bottoms hit the wood.

Ariel could have testified under Veritaserum that the temperature dropped in the room.

“Why were you both not present at the Feast tonight?” He asked, leaning against the front of the desk with his arms crossed and black eyes burning.

They both looked at each other from the corners of their eyes.

“Well?” Severus snapped, “I’m _waiting.”_

“We were studying.” Harry answered quickly. Ariel sent him a questioning look, wondering why he just tell him the truth, but didn’t dare object.

 _“Studying.”_ Her father repeated flatly, obviously not buying it, “On a _holiday.”_

 _“You_ never stick around for the Feast.” Ariel pointed out.

“This is not about me.” Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, “This is about how while the both of you were _studying,_ you somehow ended up taking down a full grown _mountain troll.”_

“I was just going to use the loo!” Ariel shot back, “It was in the bathroom and cornered us… and then Ron and Hermione showed up… we had no clue there was a troll in the school. How could we if we weren’t at the Feast?”

Her father opened his eyes and glowered down at her.

 _“What?”_ Ariel frowned, growing annoyed, “It’s not _our_ fault. How did it even get inside Hogwarts?”

Harry was shooting her a look that clearly told her to stop while she was ahead, but her irritation still built itself upon her father’s anger.

 _“How_ is irrelevant.” Severus snapped. “The _point_ is that you were both were not where you supposed to be. If you had been, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Ariel fought back the urge to roll her eyes at his logic, but with a small head shake from Harry, she leaned back in her chair and huffed in defeat.

He looked at Harry then, “You had better savor those points, boy. I wouldn’t have given you any, but it seems Professor McGonagall felt differently.”

“He _saved_ Ron!” Ariel flew out her seat automatically, coming to Harry’s defense, “That troll would have killed him if Harry hadn’t shot a levitation spell at it!”

“A _levitation_ spell?” Severus repeated in an unimpressed voice. Harry’s face reddened.

Ariel glared at him before making her move towards the door, waving her brother forward, “C’mon, Harry, let’s go.”

He didn’t move, but her father sure did, swooping forward. His face was like a crack of thunder.

“I did _not_ dismiss you!” He snarled through his teeth.

“No!” Ariel shouted at him, “If you want to be mad because we took on a troll by accident, fine. But don't... don’t act like saving someone is _wrong.”_

“You were reckless!”

“And _you_ want an excuse to yell at him!” Ariel looked him in the eye, “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You forget your place.” Her father’s eyes blazed.

 _“You_ put me here!”

“How could I put you _anywhere_ when you haven’t spoken to me in _weeks?”_ Severus shouted, something desperate in that usually deep and strong voice of his.

“You’re not my father.” Ariel blurted out, the thought that _her_ Severus and _this_ Severus being two different people clouding the meaning that he took them for. _“That’s_ why.”

His skin went the exact color of sour milk as he recoiled from her. Harry looked shocked.

“Get — _out.”_ He hissed, sounding like a snake.

Ariel blinked, not quite sure she’d heard him right.

“I said to get _OUT!”_ Severus roared, making both children jumped, bolting from the room. Ariel shook as the door slammed shut behind them, and Harry took her hand in his.

Outside, the sky cracked and opened up as Severus threw the picture of Lily into a drawer, knowing he could never look upon it as long as those words rang true.


	21. The Art of Doubting

“I think Snape was up to something.” Hermione blurted out a week after the troll incident, because apparently, there were some things that made friends out of people, and fighting a full grown mountain troll was one of them. 

Harry looked up from his Transfiguration essay to glance at Ron, who was trying to balance his wand on his index finger.

“What kind of up to something?” Ron didn’t look perturbed by this statement. “Like deciding whether he wants kids for breakfast or dinner up to something? Or the normal Slytherin up to something?”

“What does _that_ mean? Harry shot him a dirty look.

“When Ron and I went after you and Ariel the other night,” Hermione ignored them both, “we saw Snape running towards the third floor… but Quirrell said the troll was in the dungeons.”

Harry blinked at her, “So?”

“So why was he going up to the third floor if the problem wasn’t anywhere near there?” Hermione asked.

“The problem wasn’t anywhere near the dungeons either.” Ron pointed out.

“That’s not what I _mean.”_ Hermione snapped, “It doesn’t strike either of you odd that he didn’t go with the other professors?”

“Well, Snape _is_ kind of odd.”

“Can we just drop it?” Harry sighed, not wanting to think of Snape or what thoughts drove him to do the things he did.

But the thought took root somewhere in his mind and tugged away as Hermione turned back to the Potion’s essay Snape had only just assigned a few hours ago and Ron resumed his balancing act. If the troll had been reported in the dungeons, that meant that _Slytherin_ territory was in danger. Snape’s classroom, quarters, and the dormitories were all down there. Shouldn’t he have have been the one _leading_ the other professors down there? Why had he been going in the opposite direction?

No, Harry couldn’t think about that. He couldn’t bear to even look at the man anymore, for fear that his glare might make his head explode. The night he’d shouted at Ariel and Harry to get out, something changing in his sister’s face, and Snape’s. Suddenly, the sister who had been pushing to spend so much time with him was gone had been replaced with someone who appeared _younger_ at times, sullen and forlorn and always watching the High Table whenever she bothered to appear at meals. It was almost like they’d switched roles, for Snape no longer watched Ariel, but seemed to blend into the shadows and glare at whatever magicked itself onto his plate while Ariel stared from afar. Ariel had tried to hide it from Harry, but it was blatantly obvious the night Snape had shouted for them to get out of his office that it had shaken her something terrible. Harry thought back to the night he saw Snape talk to his sister, speaking words he’d never hear himself from a parent, and wondered how a relationship could be so far away from what it had obviously been just several months ago. But then, again, Harry knew the answer.

 _He_ was the issue. Wasn’t he always? 

Harry had to do something about this. He couldn’t bear to see Ariel throwing away her obviously _close_ relationship with her father — watch it fall apart just because the man wanted to be a git towards him. He could take it, and he was sure that when they did eventually make up, Snape would back off. Harry had tried to breach it with with Ariel, but she would just shake her head at him whenever he tried to bring it up.

He couldn’t let Ariel throw away all that. Not for him, and certainly not over the fact that Snape simply didn’t _like_ him… okay, _hated_ him. That was besides the point, though.

But if there was one person that seemed to hate him, or hated him _as much_ as Snape did, it was Draco Malfoy.

“Enjoying your detentions with Snape, Potter?” Malfoy had sneered down at Harry as he sat at the Slytherin table the next morning. Damon looked up from his toast, looking bored and as though his cousin had interrupted him even though he nor Harry had been talking.

“What’s it to you, Malfoy?” Harry sighed back, trying to not let the fact that _Malfoy’s_ instigation had landed him a night of scrubbing cauldrons after their first flying lesson.

“Curiosity.” Malfoy said with a smirk as Crabbe and Goyle snickered from behind him.

“Well, you know what they said about curiosity.” Damon said in a very matter-of-factly voice, “It killed the cat.”

Harry snorted a laugh as Malfoy’s cheeks took on that pink tinge they always did when he got embarrassed.

“If anyone’s out of bounds here, it’s _you,_ Damon.” He snapped, “You’ve never once bloody mentioned that you’re best mates with the Precious Potters. With _blood traitors.”_

“It truly is amazing how much you parrot Lucius.” Damon said flatly, “Congratulations. Would you like a gold star?”

Malfoy inflated his cheeks, like he wanted to spit something venomous back at Damon, but turned on his heel and stomped out of the Great Hall. His head was ducked in a way that made Harry think of someone who’d just had water dumped over their head.

It was no secret that the Malfoy cousins didn’t get along one bit. In fact, it had become the unspoken rule that no one gossiped aloud about the rows they had on a nightly basis. On more than one occasion, Flint had threatened to go and get Snape in order to get them to stop shouting, but Damon would always be the one to walk away first, looking very put upon and tense in the face. Talking about why he and Draco didn’t get along was about as successful as getting Ariel to talk about Snape these days.

“You don’t have to do that, you know.” Harry said as Damon went back to his breakfast, “It’s not like I can’t handle him.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.” He smirked at him, “It’s more of the fact that you two tend to go out of your way to antagonize each other.”

“I do not!” Harry said indignantly.

“Then what do you call the Remembrall incident?” Damon asked, raising an eyebrow, “Or that time you jinxed his quill to sing in the middle of Transfiguration? Or what about the day that he locked you in one of Filch’s closets for an hour? Or —”

“I can take care of Draco myself, thank you very much. _You,_ however, seem to lose your temper with him on a daily basis. _I_ don’t.”

“He’s my cousin. I’m allowed. Especially if I hear him muttering about how much he hates the company I keep. If I had a galleon for every time I heard him muttering about how everyone thinks Harry Potter is so great, I’d be rich.”

“Why is that?” Harry asked, curious, “Why don’t you hate my guts like he does?”

“Because your sister would just end up giving me the silent treatment.” Damon said lightly, but upon the weight of his words, sighed and looked up at Snape, who was brooding, as always, in the shadows. “I would have thought one of them would have bent by now.”

Harry shrugged and picked at his food and tried to ignore the gnawing at the inside of his head, “Hermione think Snape’s up to something. Says the night we took down that troll--”

“Without _me.”_ Damon grumbled.

“— that her and Ron saw Snape going up to the third floor.” Harry raised an eyebrow, “Any idea what he’d be doing up there?”

“Does Snape _need_ a reason?”

“It just seems weird.” He muttered, standing and fixing his robes, “Will you… keep an eye on Ariel?”

Damon blinked, “I’m pretty sure that’s something _she_ asks me to do instead of _you._ Don’t you guys ever _talk?_ I’m not an owl, you know.”

“She won’t talk to me.” Harry muttered, “And it’s all my fault.”

“What are you talking about?” His eyebrows furrowed together in confusion, “If you’re worried about her and Snape not talking, I wouldn’t think much about it. Last year, Snape did the same thing to me until Ariel shouted at him in the middle of class.”

“He did?” Harry said, surprised neither of them had told him this sooner, “What’d he have against you?”

“My mother, apparently.” Damon rolled his eyes.

“Who was she?”

“No one.” He said quickly, a strange look passing over his face, “At least, not anymore.”

Harry sensed that he was approaching shaky ground and simply nodded in response.

Towards the end of breakfast, Harry bid Damon goodbye and racked his head for what he needed to get done for today. First up was Transfiguration followed by Charms, which he’d spent all last night finishing the homework for. He needed to go and grab his books before class.

“Oi, Potter!” A haughty voice called as he exited the Great Hall, “Going to serve another detention with Snape again? Rather sad that you’re the only Slytherin he hates more than Gryffindors.”

He turned to find the blonde Slytherin leaning against the wall, half covered in shadows and fury covering every inch of his face. Crabbe and Goyle weren’t flanking him as usual.

“Stuff it, Malfoy.” Harry snapped, “If anyone’s the sad one, it’d be you.”

“Says the _Slytherin_ with the sister in _Gryffindor.”_ Malfoy sneered, “You got Sorted in the wrong House, Potter.”

“At least my sister still talks to me.” Harry said coolly, “Unlike your cousin, who’s in the same House as the both of us. Seems he has a lot more sense than you, though.”

Malfoy threw himself from the wand, wand pointed directly at him, “You take that _back!”_

“Why?” Harry drew his own wand, “Don’t like the truth then, Malfoy?”

“Like the Precious Potters are ones to talk about _truth.”_ Malfoy laughed, a mocking sound that bounced off Harry’s ear drums and made him grip his wand even tighter, “I could teach you a thing or so about that.”

“Oh yeah?” He challenged, “Then why _don’t_ you?”

“I’d take you on anytime on my own.” Malfoy’s grey eyes seemed to deepen, as though they’d becoming rolling stormclouds, “Tonight, if you want. Wizard’s duel. Wands only-- no contact. But then again, I suppose you’ll need more specifics, seeing as you’ve probably never heard of a wizard’s duel.”

“Of course I have.” Harry shot back, even though Malfoy’s was one-hundred-percent right for once, “Midnight, then?”

“Fine.” He smirked in unwarranted triumph, “Who’s your second? _Weasel?”_

“No.” Harry hesitated, “My sister.”

“Predictable.” Malfoy snorted, “I’ll bring Crabbe then. We’ll meet in the trophy room, and then maybe you’ll learn to respect us Slytherins that know what we’re doing around here.”

He purposely bumped into Harry’s shoulder as he passed him, sending another lip curl Harry’s way before he disappeared down the stairs that led to the dormitories.

 _Well,_ Harry thought to himself, _now I just have to learn how to duel._  

* * *

“A _midnight duel.”_ Ariel said flatly.

Everyone else seemed to trade looks that she pretended not to see, keeping her unhappy gaze trained on her brother.

“Well, _someone’s_ got to stand up to him!” Harry defended himself, puffing his chest out a bit.

“You’re not actually _going!”_ Hermione said, amber eyes narrowing.

“Of course he is!” Ron said the exact time Damon said, “Of course he isn’t!”

The five of them were walking through the chilly November air, pulling their cloaks about them tightly and heading for the Quidditch pitch. Harry and Ron went daily to watch, moaning in naked agony at the fact that neither of them were allowed to play. Ariel had hoped that her brother wouldn’t become the Quidditch-nut that their father had been, but it seemed that genetics hadn’t been in her favor in that department. She still had no bloody clue why they voluntarily went to go and watch the practices if it tortured them so much, but she didn’t even try to understand how the Quidditch-crazed mind worked.

“Tell me then,” Ariel rolled her eyes, “are you planning on _Lumos-_ ing Draco to death? I doubt Quirrell’s taught you any handy spells.”

“He could always pull that thing he did with the troll!” Ron offered, “And I’ll be there to help.”

“Oh, really?” Hermione asked in that condescending tone she seemed to only reserve for Ron, “And I suppose Draco Malfoy carries a giant wooden club around, then? Or did you think Harry could use his own wand to knock him out?”

“It was just a suggestion!” Ron snapped, but went as red as his hair.

“I’m not backing down from it.” Harry finally cut in, green eyes flashing, “I’m not going to not show up and then have to listen to Malfoy calling me a coward until Christmas.”

“Do you really want to give Snape another reason to give you detention if you’re caught?” Damon rolled his eyes, “Let Draco get caught and you revel in that satisfaction.”

“I agree.” Ariel gave her friend a grateful nod.

“Leave it to Draco to corner you when I’m not around.” Damon muttered, shoving his hands into his robe pockets, “He must’ve been planning this.”

“Well, it’s been a long time coming!” Ron said, apparently more than happy that there was an opportunity for him to watch Draco get cut down a peg or two.

“I told him you were my second.” Harry said, looking up at Ariel, “I have no clue what that means, but I’d appreciate it if you’d accept.”

“You named _me?”_ She rolled her eyes but felt something warm flutter inside at the notion that her brother had chosen _her,_ “I mean, I doubt either of you are going to die, but should Draco smite you, I’d be glad to take your place.”

“Wait… a second is for if I _die?”_

“Well, what did you think it was for?” Damon asked, “If you got _tired?”_

“Which isn’t going to happen.” Ariel reassured him, _“Obviously.”_

“And what happens if I wave my wand and nothing happens?” Harry looked back and forth between the both of them.

“Throw it away and punch him in the throat.” Ariel suggested, reaching to ruffle his hair as he jumped out of the way.

“You’re dragging _more_ people into this?” Hermione stopped short, bushy hair whipping wildly around her face, “Harry… Ariel… you _can’t!”_

“Why not?” Ariel grinned, suddenly looking forward to a little bit of fun in the midst of all the arguing and the silence and everything in between.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there.” Ron slung an arm around Harry’s shoulders, the look on his face clearly screaming _please please please don’t say no._

“And I suppose you’ll need someone to mediate.” Damon threw in nonchalantly, “You know, in case things get out of control.”

“Oh, why don’t you just invite all of Gryffindor and Slytherin while you’re at it!” Hermione cried, throwing her hands up in exasperation, “Honestly, am I the _only one_ who sees how ridiculous this is? You’re going to be breaking curfew, not to mention about half a dozen other school rules!”

Two heads of black hair and two gingers looked at one another, and then back at the brown haired girl, and shrugged simultaneously.

“Make it five for five?” Harry offered.

Hermione huffed in annoyance and stalked past them.

Ariel stayed and watched the Ravenclaw team practicing for a little bit before the cold finally got to her. It bit at her ears and nose, making her eyes water before she got up and hurried back to the castle unaccompanied, her only focus for the time being finding a roaring fire. Ariel had made a to-do list earlier that day — she’d had to hide it from Hermione — so that she could have this weekend free.

She ducked through the main entrance and hurried up her secret back way to Gryffindor Tower, already anticipating the events that tonight were going to hold, when she heard a familiar silky voice speaking in a low voice nearby.

“I d-d-don’t know w-w-what this is ab-b-bout S-Severus…”

“You know _damn well_ what it’s about, _Quirrell.”_

_Dad?_

Ariel had watched him the days and weeks following the night that he’d shouted at her, wondering how to approach him afterwards. She couldn’t bring herself to, because she had made a choice, and it had been Harry, but that didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt. She’d said something awful, but he’d been awful-er.

Severus hadn’t so much as _looked_ at her since then. He didn’t call on her in Potions… he’d even stopped handing back her essays. It was like she didn’t exist. The change was so radically different from what their original silence had been based off of that Ariel almost didn’t believe he was really acting this way at first. But slowly, she began to realize that somehow, her own silent treatment had been turned around on _herself._ What the hell had _she_ done? What _right_ did Severus have to make it seem that her taking Harry’s side was somehow _wrong?_

It hurt so much more than Ariel had braced herself for. It was one thing for her to be ignoring her father, but now that her father was ignoring _her…_

So she did something she really hadn’t thought she’d ever have to do and threw those thoughts into a little box. She made her father small enough so that he could fit in there and not bother her, because if he did, Ariel didn’t think she would ever stop herself from crying.

Not to mention that it would be a betrayal to her brother. She was on Harry’s side, and that was that.

That didn’t mean, however, if anything odd was going on with her father, Ariel was just going to _ignore_ it.

She stopped short, leaning her ear in the direction of the odd conversation.

“I-I-I have n-n-nothing to do w-w-with what h-h-happened —”  Quirrell’s voice protested weakly.

“Or with that troll either, it seems.” Her father drawled as Ariel crept towards their voices, “Curious, that a _troll_ somehow ended up in a well fortified castle with what’s being kept on the third floor.”

... _wait. What_ was being kept on the third floor?

Ariel tip-toed around the corner, immediately crouching behind a stone statue of someone she didn’t recognize. Her father, to her alarm, had Quirrell pinned against a wall, his hooked-nose inches away from Quirrell’s terrified face.

“I-I-I would n-n-never —”

“I would hope not.” Severus hissed, “You don’t want to make me your enemy, Quirrell.”

She blinked in shock. Was this really happening? What in Merlin’s name could _Quirrell,_ the man who kept his head down and never spoke above a gentle murmur, could have done to make _Severus_ speak to him as such? Was her father a sociopath or something? Did he have a thing for preying on the weak?

Ariel peaked out further from behind her hiding place when Quirrell didn’t respond, finding that he seemed to be choking on his words. Severus had cocked his head, leaning in as though he were a snake about to strike. Quirrell eyes flitted to the side then, landing on her for a fraction of a second before doing a double take.

His eyes widened when they caught sight of her, and before Ariel could turn and bolt, Severus followed Quirrell’s gaze.

His eyes were blacker than night and burned into hers like hot coals. Ariel cringed away, ducking back behind the statue and pulled her cloak tighter around her. Her heart was beating so fast that she thought it was going to leap out of her chest.

It seemed like an eternity later that Ariel saw Quirrell flash past her, holding his turban tightly in place, and then, a cold breeze accompanied the flurry of black, woolen robes.

 _“Miss_ Potter.” Her father’s voice seethed, hot as molded iron, and yet, as cold as dry ice.

Ariel glanced up at him, leaning against the cold stone and trying to look older than a twelve-year-old. Severus’ jaw was set, but otherwise, his face was blank and tense.

 _“Professor_ Snape.” She raised an eyebrow at him.

His knuckles cracked as he balled his fists at his sides.

“What are you doing here?” Severus demanded, _“Alone?”_

“What are _you_ doing here?” Ariel asked, “With _Quirrell?”_

“None of your concern.” He snarled, “What did you hear?”

“Enough.” She crossed her arms.

Her father’s eyes narrowed, “I’d like a more specific response, if you’d please.”

“I heard you threatening someone that seemed very _non_ threatening.” Ariel clarified.

“And _you’re_ spying.” His scowl deepened, “Since when do you spy?”

“I was just walking.” She said, widening her eyes in an attempt to look as innocent as possible.

It didn’t seem to be working, for Severus pursed his lips in the same exact manner one might if they bit into a lemon. Ariel simply blinked back, hoping her doe-eyes would have _some_ kind of affect. But it had been a very long three months, and something had changed between them that Ariel didn’t understand.

His eyes had always held a distance to them, but as Ariel looked into them now, it was obviously that whatever little light had once been held in them had gone out. Had _she_ done that?

The indescenerable flash lit them up for a fraction of a second, and then, it was gone.

“Go back to your dormitory.” Her father said in a rough voice. His curtain of shoulder-length black hair covered his face, and he turned on his heel and stalked away before Ariel could open her mouth to protest.

“Well,” She muttered as she stared into the now empty space before her, “now there’s _two_ things he’s not telling me.”

* * *

Midnight came fast enough, the November air sending a chill tingling down Ariel’s spine as she crept from her warm bed in Gryffindor Tower and down to the common room where Ron and to her surprise, Hermione, were waiting. She didn’t exactly _like_ the girl yet, but she _had_ helped save their backsides on Halloween, and Ariel supposed that some things automatically made people tolerate one another.

Damon and Harry had said they would be waiting outside of the Great Hall at a quarter to midnight. Whether Draco would be with them, they hadn’t said, but Ariel thought the idea of going to a duel with the person you would be dueling sounded rather odd.

“This is ridiculous.” Hermione grumbled as they stepped through the portrait hole, “Your brother is going to lose us points. We aren’t even in the same _House…”_

“We don’t have to come.” Ron suggested, though it sounded more like a plea.

“Stop being such worrywarts.” Ariel grinned, “Where’s your sense of adventure? And tolerance?”

“It’s hard to tolerate someone who’s _in_ tolerable.” Ron said under his breath.

“Stuff it, the both of you.” Ariel turned around to give them an I-Mean-Business look, red hair whipping about her shoulders. “Filch and Mrs Norris are sure to be out and the last thing you want is to get caught. Save the arguing for after the duel, okay?”

They both nodded reluctantly and followed after her, clutching their bathrobes close to them and wands to their chests.

Ariel found Harry and Damon waiting where they said they’d be, leaning against the archway of the Great Hall in the shadows. Both their heads were ducked together, talking in low voices that barely reached Ariel’s ears.

“Where’s Draco?” Ron demanded as they got close. “Back out, did he?”

“We saw him leave a couple a minutes before we did.” Harry said, looking around warily, like he expected Malfoy to jump out of thin air and attack him.

“You didn’t leave with him?” asked Hermione.

“Yes, because accompanying your enemy to your duel is a common wizarding tradition.” Damon rolled his eyes. Ron snorted down a laugh.

“Well she wouldn’t know!” Harry snapped as Hermione turned bright red. “I mean, Hermione, you said you were Muggleborn, right? It’s not her fault.”

She gave him a small, grateful smile that Ron pretended not to see.

“Alright,” Ariel sighed, waving them forward, “stay close, keep quiet, and be alert. Sometimes Snape roams at night if he thinks something’s up. I wouldn’t have put it past Malfoy to try and frame us. And if you see a cat, start running.”

They all nodded in agreement and set off, sliding into the trophy room soon enough with no problems or run ins.

“Draco?” Damon called softly as the five of them crept into the room, _“Yoo hoo?”_

The trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plaques, and statues  winked in silver and gold. Ariel knew that somewhere in here there was a trophy or two engraved with the name _James Potter_ on it, but that was a mission for a different time. They all edged along the walls, their eyes doing all the talking as they looked between one another, and it was clear that they were asking the same question; _where’s Malfoy?_

“Maybe he chickened out.” Harry whispered as the minutes crept by.

“He better not have.” Damon snarled darkly, “If he dragged me out of bed in the middle of the bloody night just for him to get a laugh —”

A voice cut him off, sending five wide eyes snapping to the door.

“Sniff around, my sweet. They might be lurking in a corner.” Filch’s voice called, muffled.

Ariel cursed his stupid cat to hell and back and waved them all forward madly. Harry motioned for them to be as quiet as possible as they all scurried silently towards the door, away from Filch’s voice. She caught sight of Hermione’s face and wondered how in Merlin’s name she could look more frightened than the night the troll had cornered them. House points weren’t _that_ big of a deal… but of course, that didn’t mean Ariel was about to get caught by Filch just because _Draco Malfoy_ didn’t show up. He could send them running for the hills in order to escape this mess all he wanted, but he was _not_ going to have the satisfaction of making Harry look bad in front of Slytherin… or her father, for that matter.

They piled around the corner just as Filch entered the trophy room, muttering to his Mrs Norris about students out of bed. Damon curled a finger, beckoning them all away quietly, when he accidentally walked straight into a suite of armor.

The clanging and crashing was enough to wake the whole damn castle.

 _“RUN!”_ Harry yelled and the five of them sprinted down the gallery, not daring to look back to see whether or not Filch was following. Damon and Ariel led the way, her hand somehow finding her brother’s and tugging him along at a speed she hadn’t think herself capable of before.

“The Charms classroom.” Damon said, panting as they flew through the halls, “Head for there.”

They ripped through a tapestry and came out near a hidden passageway Ariel had used when she was a child to watch Flitwick’s lessons if he’d left the classroom door open, pulling her brother and the back of Hermione’s robes behind the wall while Damon grabbed Ron.

“I… _told…_ you.” Hermione gasped, clutching at her stomach.

“Honestly, Hermione,” Ariel coughed as she wiped cold sweat from her brow, “not _now.”_

“Draco must have tipped him off.” Damon was fuming, leaning his elbow against the cool stone, head buried against it, “Filch _knew_ someone was going to be in the trophy room. I’m going to _kill him.”_

“I can’t believe we fell for it.” Harry muttered, “I should have known after I saw that smug smirk on his face…”

“Doesn’t matter now.” Ron poked his head out, looking for any signs of Filch or a professor, “We have to get back to our dorms… and _quick.”_

“I heard them come through this way, my sweet.” Filch’s voice made them all start, eyes widening in panic, “They couldn’t have gone far…”

“You have _got_ to be kidding me.” Ariel groaned.

 _“RUN!”_ Ron hissed and they took flight again, only this time, it was short lived. They slammed right into a door at the end of the corridor — a _locked_ door.

“This is it!” Ron moaned as Harry and Hermione began to push helplessly, “We’re done for! This is the end!”

The footsteps were running now, straight towards them.

“Oh, for the love of Merlin, move _over!”_ Ariel snapped, pushing aside the frightened first years, _“Alohomora!”_

The lock clicked and the door swung open. They piled through after her, Ariel’s heart beating so fast she wondered how it hadn’t exploded out of her chest, shut the door, and pressed her ear up against it. Damon was muttering obscenities and what he was planning on doing to Draco when he got his hands on him, earning himself a _“shush!”_ from Hermione.

Ariel heard someone breathing heavily behind them, peeking over her shoulder in annoyance, thinking it was either Ron or Hermione, but found that she was very, _very_ wrong. For a moment, Ariel was sure she was dreaming, that she must be having some nightmare. This was simply too much on top of everything that had happened so far.

They weren’t in a room. They were in a corridor, but to be more specific, the _forbidden_ third floor corridor Dumbledore had been talking about at his welcoming speech back in September.

Ariel was suddenly looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog with three heads.

 _Three heads._ That meant _three times the teeth._

“H- _Harry —”_ Ariel squeaked.

Four heads whipped around as the beast growled. Damon’s hands reached the doorknob first and grabbed Ariel’s robes, pulling her forward, as she grabbed Harry’s and Harry grabbed Hermione’s.

Ron slammed the door shut as they skittered out, nearly falling down on each other, and ran as fast as humanly possible back down to the Great Hall, a blur of bathrobes and hair.

“What — in Merlin’s _name —_ was _that?”_ Ron spluttered.

Ariel keeled over, trying to soothe the stitch in her stomach. Damon had fallen to the floor.

“That _thing,”_ She winced at the pain in her side. “Should _not_ be in the castle.”

“It must’ve been what Dumbledore was talking about at the Feast.” Harry supplied, pale and shaking. His eyes were so bright that outdid the moonlight.

Before any of them could answer, the Worst Possible Thing that could have happened, did.

“Where did you hear them, Filch?” called the very last voice Ariel had wanted to hear. Damon practically levitated off the floor, and Ariel swallowed the startled shriek that leap into her throat. Hermione looked like she was going to be sick.

“Up on the third floor… but I heard them come down here —”

“And you’re sure it was the Potter’s?”

“I know that girl’s voice anywhere.”

“That _isn’t_ what I asked.” Severus’ voice snarled.

“Tomorrow?” Ariel gasped, her voice hoarse. Ron and Hermione were already inching away.

“Tomorrow.” Harry agreed quickly, and with that, three of them made their way up to Gryffindor Tower and the other two down to the dungeons without a backwards glance.

Ariel scurried up to her room once they got in, burying herself under her covers. She was trembling head to toe, and it only seemed to get worse as she laid there and tried to come to terms with what she’d just seen.

Why the hell was there a _three headed dog_ in Hogwarts? Had Dumbledore finally lost it? More importantly, why was her father involved with whatever it was doing there? She hadn’t really heard the part of the Headmaster’s speech that warned them all to stay away from the third floor corridor unless they wanted to die a most painful death, but she wished she had. Harry had mentioned it, obviously disturbed, but Ariel hadn’t thought anything of it…

So why was Severus so interested in that? _Hagrid_ was the one who liked fantastical beasts. What would cause her father, who didn’t like anything really, to threaten _Quirrell_ over a giant dog?

It clicked then. If there was something monstrous and her father was suspicious and Dumbledore was acting madder than usual, then that meant monster-dog must be protecting something. It was the only explanation that made sense.

Ariel kept this to herself, but validation came only three weeks later with a single visit between Harry and Hagrid.

“A Stone.” Harry gasped as he flew into the library, causing Ariel, Damon and Hermione to look up from their studying, “They’re hiding some kind of magic Stone on the third floor!”


	22. Christmas Creeping

Harry had always loved the idea of Christmas from afar, but to finally have the opportunity to be apart of it warmed him to the very core even though the Slytherin dorms were quite possibly the coldest place on Earth.

Hogwarts had immediately struck him as beautiful the very first time he saw it, but the day that Hagrid had begun to drag those giant evergreen trees in the Great Hall has momentarily distracted him from the whole mysterious Stone and the giant three headed dog that were being kept on the third floor. He wasn’t going back to Privet Drive, leaving him with hope that this could quite possibly be the very first and very best Christmas he’d ever had.

Hermione had thrown herself into research as the days grew longer and colder after Hagrid had let it slip about a man named Nicolas Flamel and some mystery Stone had to be protected inside of Hogwarts. They hadn’t been able to find anything further on the Stone itself, but to Harry’s growing annoyance, his sister seemed to oddly disinterested in this _interesting_ development.

There were too many smiles and too many nights spent studying with him instead of her trying to piece this mystery together with Ron, Hermione, and himself. Ariel seemed to be distant when it came to herself these days, the other parts spent making sure Harry was alright and doing well and that Snape wasn’t harassing him anymore. Snape hadn’t so much as looked at him since Halloween, and now that Christmas was right around the corner, that meant it had been almost two months.

As the smell of pine and holly breathed into the halls of the castle, Ariel and Damon had set to booby trapping Christmas decorations in retaliation for Draco’s no show the night they’d run into the three headed dog. Harry and Ron had begun to lose count of just how many times they’d caught Malfoy off guard, delighting in the shows that had left their stomachs sore with raucous laughter. Among Harry’s favorites had been the exploding mistletoe that had given Draco large, itchy boils on his forehead, enchanted snowballs that continually flung themselves at the back of his head, and Charming the gel he used to slick back his hair that smelled like actual reindeer.

Christmas morning brought with it a snowfall that covered the grounds in a thick blanket and a calm that settled throughout the school. When Harry awoke that morning, he spotted a giant pile of gifts sitting at the pile of Malfoy’s bed, a crumpled up ball of wrapping paper hitting him in the face as he sat up.

“Merry Christmas, _Potty!”_ Draco sneered, “Though from the looks of your lot, it looks like not that many thought enough of you to give you that much.”

Harry blinked, still half asleep and groggy with sleep, so Malfoy’s words didn’t hit him for a couple of moments. _That much?_ As in… people had sent him _presents?_

He practically fell out of bed, legs twisting in the sheets so that he hit the floor with a loud _THUMP._ There were indeed several gifts, nicely wrapped and all addressed to him at the foot of his bed.

_Him._ Presents for _him!_

Harry pounced, finding the first was from Hagrid. It was some kind of flute, followed with a note asking him to his hut some day soon. He grinned, no longer paying attention to Malfoy giving him a look of disgust. There was another gift from Mrs Weasley, a sweater that made him feel warm just looking at it with a giant _H_ embroidered on the front. Hermione had sent him his very own copy of _Hogwarts, a History,_ and from Ron there was a giant bag of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor beans.

The last two packages were the largest. Harry grabbed the first, a package that was wrapped in a silvery, almost fabric-like wrapping paper with a box of chocolate frogs and a large note attached to it. He opened carefully, suddenly afraid to rip open the gift like he had with the others. He could tell it had been wrapped with care.

_Harry,_

_I’m sorry we couldn’t be together this morning for our first Christmas, but we have the rest of the day, I suppose. Anyway, I hope you like the gift… you should probably thank McGonagall for getting it to you at all._

_Merry Christmas!_

_Love,_

_Ariel_

It was a scarf, made of the softest fabric Harry had ever felt. It was an emerald green, that he realized after several moments, was the exact color of his very eyes. Silver shot through it, glistening in the candlelight with such a brightness that Harry almost believed it must have to be made out of some kind of metal. But it was as silky as the green, the words _Harry Potter_ embroidered on the very bottom left in elegant script.

His throat tightened as he rubbed it against his cheek. It was the nicest gift he’d ever received, save Hedwig, of course. One of the _only_ gifts he’d ever received.

The last one, which Harry had almost forgotten about in his moment of gratitude and unabashed joy, was in a parcel just slightly bit bigger than Ariel’s gift to him, though it felt a bit lighter. Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor when Harry opened it, where it lay in gleaming folds.

Malfoy let out a gasp, making Harry look back at him. He was midway through his own pile, which was about three times the size of Harry’s own and his parcels much larger.

“Who the bloody hell sent _you_ an Invisibility Cloak?” Malfoy sneered, “Not like you’ve got any family besides your sister, and your friends couldn’t afford anything like that. And even if they _could,_ why would they waste it on _you?”_

Harry continued to ignore him and threw the Cloak around his shoulders, taking pride when Malfoy let out a small yell.

His feet and legs had disappeared altogether, making him a floating torso and head.

He grinned, about to finally make a comeback at the prat staring owl-eyes at him, when a note fell out from the Cloak. Written in narrow, loopy writing he had never seen before were the following words;

_Your father left this in my possession before he died. It is time it was returned to you._

_Use it well._

_A very Merry Christmas to you_

Harry stared at the note for a very long time, trying to fight back the tears that clogged the back of his throat and made his eyes itch. Had it really once belonged to his father, the man that every said he looked exactly like? He certainly didn’t feel like his father… Harry would never be as brave or as great as he had been. Slytherin didn’t give him that right, supposedly.

“I have express orders to take you down to the Great Hall right now.” Damon’s voice brought him back to reality and tore his glistening eyes away from the Cloak.

Harry looked up, finding his one friend in Slytherin dressed and bright-eyed.

“Orders?” Harry asked as he carefully folded the gift and slid it into his trunk as Draco began to mutter something insulting under his breath, “From who?”

“Your sister.” Damon said in a tone that clearly said, _“well, who else did you expect?”_

“What are you? Her Owl?” He rolled his eyes, but began to dress himself.

That earned him a chocolate frog being thrown his way and angry muttering about how he had better watch himself if he kept talking like that.

Harry smiled, and pulled the sweater over his pajamas, and wondered if Ariel and Ron had gotten one too.

No sooner had Harry entered the Great Hall did Harry begin to forget all his troubles — the Nicolas Flamel Stone and Snape and his sister’s strange disinterest in this mystery forgotten for the day. Wearing the sweater Mrs Weasley had sent him and his newfound beloved scarf, Harry found that he wasn’t the only one to have received a Weasley sweater. Ron, the twins, and even Percy were wearing theirs, Ariel’s tied around her waist, explaining that she was sweltering in it once Harry sat down.

The day was spent out in the snow, where quite possibly, at least in Harry’s opinion, the greatest snow ball fight ever initiated ensued. It had been Harry, Ron, and George versus Ariel, Damon, and Fred, Ariel’s team climbing out of the three-foot deep snow trench hours later, victorious. Hermione had gone home for the holidays, making both Harry and Ron promise to do their own research on the Stone while she was away. Soon after they all retreated inside, ears blistering from the cold, there was the dinner with turkey and boiled potatoes and pudding so rich that by the end, Harry was quite sure he was going to be sick. But it was a good kind of sick, the kind that only felt better when he roared with laughter as Fred and George held down Percy and forced him to keep on the Weasley sweater he had been so desperately trying to take off all day. Even the professor’s seemed to be having a good time, that is, except for one.

Snape was not there. His presence, or rather _lack thereof,_ was painfully noticeable by they way Ariel slumped in her seat when she realized as well. She looked terribly guilty, and it made Harry feel like he’d been punched in the chest.

At the end of the Feast, Harry was more than ready to climb into bed or find a comfy couch in the Slytherin common room and play Damon in a game of chess. But then he remembered the Invisibility Cloak he now had in his possession sitting back in his dorm, and an idea crept over him.

“I never gave you your present.” Harry said to Ariel as they exited the Great Hall, the three Weasley boys already heading up to the Tower.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You didn’t have to get me anything. The scarf was just a little something.”

He looked at her, did a double take, and then said, “Meet me by the dungeons in twenty minutes.”

Ariel cocked her head, obviously curious, but nodded, and they went their separate ways.

The torches had already dimmed by the time he came back, Cloak in hand, and found his sister waiting for him. Her eyes immediately locked onto the foreign fabric, giving him a questioning look just as he threw it over himself.

Harry heard Ariel gasp, “An _Invisibility Cloak?_ Where in Merlin’s name did you —”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged as he took it off and handed it to her so she could see, “There was a note saying it was Dad’s.”

Ariel’s head snapped up as she felt the fabric in between her fingers, “This… this was Dad’s?”

He nodded, watching her expression carefully as it furrowed into a calculating look. She was staring at it as though the answer would materialize before her, but after a few moments she blinked and looked back up at him.

“Want to test it out?” Harry grinned wickedly at her.

Her face widened into a mirroring smile, and with a swish of cloth, there were off.

“Where to?” Ariel laughed, “I’d love to see Mrs Norris sniff us out now…”

“Astronomy Tower?” Harry suggested.

“A bit cold for that, don’t you think?”

He gave her a look, “We have a _cloak.”_

They set off then, taking their sweet time, unlike times past. Ariel showed him all of her secret shortcuts that she’d apparently discovered when she had been younger. Harry had no idea how he was going to remember them all, but took special note of ones he knew he could use in order to avoid being late for Professor McGonagall.

And then, they heard the voices just as they were climbing the winding steps to the Astronomy Tower.

Below, in a shadowy alcove, stood Snape, but he wasn’t alone. Quirrell was there, too. Harry couldn’t make out the look on his face, but he was stuttering worse than ever. Harry strained to catch what they were saying.

“. . . d-don’t know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus . . .”

“Oh, I thought we’d keep this private,” said Snape, his voice icy, “Students aren’t supposed to know about the Stone, after all.”

Harry leaned forward as Ariel’s fingernails dug into his arm. Quirrell was mumbling something. Snape interrupted him.

“Have you found out how to get past that beast of Hagrid’s yet?”

“B-b-but Severus, I —”

“You don’t want me as your enemy, Quirrell,” Snape said, taking a step toward him.

“I-I don’t know what you —”

“You know _perfectly_ well what I mean.”

Ariel was tugging at him now, as if she didn’t want to listen anymore.

Harry steadied himself as she began to pull her away, leaning in time to hear Snape say, “— your little bit of hocus-pocus. I’m _waiting.”_

“B-but I d-d-don’t —”

“Very well,” Snape interrupted him, “We’ll have another little chat soon, when you’ve had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie.”

There was nothing but the sound of their breathing for several minutes. Ariel’s hand was still gripping his arm, both siblings covered by the Cloak.

“He… he must be after the Stone.” Harry swallowed loudly, voice shaky. His head was spinning. He’d known Snape had been… well, there were words he’d rather not use. But _this…_

“I saw him threatening him awhile back.” Ariel said quietly, eyes still staring where Snape and Quirrell had just been, “He must still be suspicious…”

“Who, Quirrell? He seemed scared out of his mind, not suspicious.”

Her black eyes finally looked at him, narrowed, “I meant my father. He must still think Quirrell is after the Stone… for whatever reason…”

“Did we just hear the same conversation?” Harry asked her, incredulous, “Ariel, Snape was _obviously_ threatening _Quirrell.”_

“Yes,” She agreed, “because he must think it’s in danger.”

“Or that _he’s_ trying to _steal_ it and get information out of Quirrell –”

_“What?”_ Ariel barked a humorless laugh, “Harry that’s absolutely ridiculous.”

“Well, think about it!” Harry argued, getting defensive, “Quirrell’s obviously knowledgeable in the Dark Arts. Snape must think he has a way to get past that dog!”

“If my father is after some bloody magic Stone, then Quirrell is secretly Voldemort.” She rolled her eyes, “Trust me, Harry, he’s not. It’s the other way around.”

“How would you know?” He shot at her, growing angry that she didn’t seem to be taking his opinion seriously, “You haven’t spoken to him in weeks. Things could have changed! You’re the one who said he’s never acted this way before… maybe this is why!”

Ariel’s face darkened significantly, obsidian eyes flashing at him just before they filled with something that shadowed doubt, “Severus’ attitude and actions are two very different things. Dumbledore trusts him… so much so that he gave me to him to protect. If the Headmaster trusted him with me, then he can trust him with some stupid Stone.”

She looked away, face blank, before she ducked out from under the Cloak and began to stalk away.

“Where are you going?” Harry called after her, making no move to follow.

Ariel peered over her shoulder at him, “I’m going to get proof.”

.

She was on a mission to get a tiny piece of this mystery solved before she went absolutely mad.

It wasn’t betraying the choice she had made between Harry and her father, because here, Severus knew something that was important. Not that Ariel expected for him to tell her anything willingly, but perhaps if she took him by surprise…

Ariel caught him just as he rounded the corner to his quarters, the breeze his robes conjured nearly knocking her off her feet.

“Dad!” She called, bracing herself for whatever reaction he chose to use on her.

He stopped, but did not turn. She could see his shoulders tense.

“You should be in your dormitory.” came the low rumble of words.

“I wanted to talk to you.” Ariel said, taking a small step forward, “About Quirrell.”

Her father turned at this, black eyes glittering angrily, but with a hint of something that she couldn’t guess was surprise or fear. Either way, the look didn’t fit him well.

“I don’t think,” Severus sneered, “that my interactions with a fellow professor are any of your concern, Miss Potter.”

“I want to know what is it he’s after.” She jutted out her chin.

He blinked back calmly, completely disinterested all of a sudden, “And how, may I ask, do you know that Professor Quirrell is after something?”

“Well, why else would you keep threatening him like he did tonight?”

His nostrils flared and Ariel fought the urge to back away slowly. But he surprised her, and instead, he began to walk away at twice the speed he had been when he’d initially passed by her.

“I know about the Stone!” Ariel called loudly after him, placing her hands on her hips when she saw him screech to a halt, “You know, the _Philosopher’s Stone,_ created by some wizard named Nicolas Flamel… sound familiar? It’s in the castle… guarded by a giant, three-headed mutt that’s apparently living up on the third floor like this is some kind of pound –”

She was cut off by a hand flying over her mouth and another grabbing nape of her neck far too tightly. Her father began to practically drag her down the corridor, snarling something that blistered her ears as they went along.

“Do you have an _ounce_ of self preservation?” Severus shouted once the door to his quarter’s had slammed shut, “You cannot just yell out secrets in the middle of the school!”

“Someone is trying to steal it, aren’t they?” Ariel demanded, watching in satisfaction when his mouth clamped shut in shock, “That’s why you’ve been threatening Quirrell. It’s him, isn’t it?”

She could tell he’d been taken completely off guard by how much she knew, but when he composed himself, his voice sounded like ice with something burning wildly below the surface, “And how, pray tell, would a _second year_ have come to such a conclusion?”

“Harry and I heard you threatening him.” Ariel replied, confidently, as though she totally _hadn’t_ been breaking about a million school rules with her brother in order to put the pieces together, “And Ron and Hermione saw you _not_ going after the troll on Halloween… so that means that you must have been going to make sure the Stone was safe, right?”

“So it’s _Potter,_ then, is it?” She could practically see the anger rolling off him in waves.

“Would you _stop_ with _Harry_ for two bloody minutes!” Ariel snapped, “I’m talking about _you.”_

Her father strode over to the desk, gripping the edges of the fine wood. His nails reminded her of talons.

“I don’t think more than a day went by without us speaking before this year.” Severus said in a low voice, so deep that Ariel didn’t think there was a bottom to it. “And it’s been _months… months_ you haven’t spoken to me.”

Ariel blinked, frazzled and taken off guard by the sudden change of subject.

“You were cruel to Harry.” She tilted her head up, “You’ve _been_ cruel to him, and you won’t tell me why.”

“You’ve never lied to me.” He said, shaking his head as though he were disbelieving, “Never broken school rules or gone behind my back in order to meddle in issues that aren’t any of your business…”

“Because _you_ won’t tell me anything!” Ariel shouted, _“You’ve_ never acted so unreasonable or mean or like _I’m_ somehow hurting _you!_ He’s my _brother,_ and _I’m_ his older sister. It’s _my_ job to protect him, even if that means it’s from _you!”_

“It _started_ when that boy came here!” Severus rounded on her, yelling back at an even greater volume, “You have _never_ been so thickheaded and ready to throw yourself into situations that aren’t any of your concern. You can’t expect me to believe that your discovery with the Stone began with _you.”_

Anger flared into her cheeks and burned in her belly, “Why? Don’t think I’m capable?”

“Put your _Gryffindor pride_ aside and answer the question.”

“Put your _unsupported bias_ aside and answer _my_ question.”

“You are _out of line!”_ Her father roared in the same tone he had the last night they’d spoken.

Ariel glared back at him, willing herself to be as still as stone and ten times as strong, “You think I _like_ doing this? I told you didn’t want to choose! I shouldn’t have had to choose between family!”

“It seems you don’t have to.” Severus snarled, “Don’t you recall what you last said to me?”

_“You_ are _not_ my father right now.” She whispered.

He stopped then, looking at her like like he were wounded, but that frightening anger still raged on in his eyes.

“Harry thinks it’s you who’s after the Stone.” Ariel lowered her eyes and cleared her throat, “I told him he was wrong… that that’s ridiculous because I know there’s no way in hell that _my_ dad would go after some magic Stone for himself.”

Severus looked as though he’d stopped breathing.

“Tell me I’m wrong.” Ariel strutted over to him, “Tell me it’s Quirrell.”

“I knew it…” He growled, a guttural, feral sound, “I knew Potter...”

“Dad _please.”_ She rasped, grabbing his cloak. “Just tell me it’s not true.”

His teeth set together audibly _,_ coal eyes set on the wall in front of them, unseeing and sharper than a knife.

“Why is it about _him?”_ Ariel tugged at him, pleading.

“The boy is just like his father!” Her father sneered, though Ariel wasn’t quite sure he was even talking to her anymore, “Throwing caution to the wind, thriving on reckless abandon…”

Ariel froze, “He’s like _who?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m going to try and upload a chapter a day for the next month because I 1. am fucking insane, 2. have all of this prewritten so why not? and 3. want to get this story finished before I die. Enjoy, Xx.


	23. The Weight of Living

_“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside."_

_— Anonymous_

* * *

Severus fought the sudden urge to clamp his hand over his mouth. Instead, he forced himself to stay completely still, hoping Ariel had somehow misheard him, but the sudden tears in her eyes confirmed the very worst.

_You’re done for,_ that ugly voice in the back of his head whispered, _she’s already chosen… all she needed was that final push…_  

“Ariel…” He halfheartedly reached a hand towards her, already knowing that she would pull away.

“What did you say?” She whispered, though it was strong enough to pass as a demand. Her hands let go of the robes she had grabbed, letting them fall back against him.

“I…” Severus gritted his teeth, trying _very_ hard not to snap his words. “You… you were not meant to hear that.”

“But you said it anyway.” Ariel took a step away from him.

She was shaking, dark eyes wide and staring, as though she didn’t believe what she was seeing, like Severus was suddenly a stranger. Somehow, it was worse than the longing and the anger that had been shining in her eyes that had formed into the stare he’d found her using on him over the past months.

Severus swallowed and turned so that he was fully facing her now, the anger that had been radiating off him seconds ago, gone. All that was left now was unchartered territory and a truth he hadn’t planned on revealing to her this soon. Ariel didn’t deserve to know such things, but something inside him had snapped when she’d said that Potter believed him to be after the Stone. The fact that Ariel had to _come to him_ and _ask_ instead of believing that he was doing what needed to be done to keep it _safe…_ that Potter had already begun to turn her against him, like his father had done with Lily all those years ago…

And yet, he was somehow more so to blame in both situations.

He was fearful. _So_ fearful.

She was still looking at his face for answers he did not want to give.

“Ariel…” Severus muttered, trying to look as un-phased as possible, _“please…”_

“This is about my father?” Ariel ignored him, balling her fists at her side, as if she were preparing herself, _“That’s_ it?”

His mind began to move ahead, trying to straighten out his thoughts so that he would not fall into any holes he wouldn’t be able to dig himself out of, though it may have already be too late for that, he sensed.

_My father —_

“It makes sense.” She whispered, almost to herself, dark eyes unseeing. “With Harry…”

Severus closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was such a fucking idiot.

“Please.” Ariel begged — he could hear a tightness in her throat Severus was battling himself. “Tell me the truth. For _once.”_

He looked up at her, hand still in place, “You won’t like it. You’re better off —”

_“No.”_ He was taken aback by the sudden strength in her voice, the way her face changed into one of sheer determination instead of heartbreak, _“Tell me._ I _want_ to know. What’s so horrible about _my father_ that you just _had_ to take it out on Harry?”

“I was trying to protect you.” Severus closed his eyes a second time and rubbed at them.

“From what? The fact that you couldn’t have _possibly_ ever cared about me because of it?” The tremor had returned to her voice.

His eyes snapped open.

The truth burst up in Severus like a dam that had broken. It flowed, as though it were the most naturally occurring phenomenon he’d ever experienced. He wanted to wash away that thought as though it were a sin, wipe the slate clean so it was as white as snow. His Shields titled against the tide, sliding across the glass as he watched Ariel’s face crumbling like his Shields were. It was because she was _right –_ Severus hadn’t wanted her under the notion that she was Potter’s daughter, had been downright _revolted_ at the idea of doing such a thing.

“You are not your father’s daughter.” Severus said in a very quiet voice, “There’s no similarities or resemblances.”

She looked as though he’d slapped her.

“He died to save me.” Ariel replied in a voice that shook as badly as Severus’ Shields’s were. “Surely _whatever_ … if you didn’t like him, doesn’t that absolve everything else?”

“Potter was arrogant.” He could hear his voice rise as his lifelong hatred boiled beneath the surface. “He was entitled, self righteous, insufferable… he deserved _nothing,_ least of all those things being _you.”_

“Then tell me how you could ever possibly care about me, even a _little_ bit, when James Potter is my father?” Her voice was throbbing, like a heartbeat. “How can you hate him and Harry and tell me that there isn’t a part of you that could ever hate me for that too?”

_No… listen, I didn’t mean…_

_—  to call me a Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different?_

It hit him like a thunderbolt, then. As his daughter —  _his daughter —_ glared up at him, chest heaving and his eyes shining back at him from her face, Severus realized it. The truth could be damning, yes, but not as damning as continuing this conversation in the direction it was headed in. If he showed her the _truth,_ no matter how much he wanted to keep it from her, perhaps then, Ariel would see. Perhaps then, Severus could still have a chance. Would she still see him as the man who hated her brother? Or as her father again? The man that lost it because he had never deserved it in the first place? Or more?

“So what, then?” Ariel asked when Severus did not answer. “Harry looks like him, that means he must _be_ like him? _That’s_ it?”

_He merely existed,_ said that insidious little voice, _he was everything you aspired to be, stole the woman you loved and the family you wanted for yourself…_

Severus paused, and when he spoke, the words were sharp and flung at her, “Potter was the epitome of everything I detest. I find those same characteristics present in his son.”

She swallowed loudly, obviously trying to compose herself. “You can’t be more specific?”

_Green eyes widening at the unknown, plastered on the last face Severus had ever wanted to see –_

“He is just like him.” Severus said simply. “The boy is his father all over again.”

“Yes, because Harry has been _nothing_ but _insufferable!_ ” Ariel spat at him, “Yes, I _definitely_ see the similarities _there._ And _arrogant!_ Forget about it! His head is bigger than Draco’s! For Merlin’s sake, _I’m_ more like Dad that Harry is!”

“You’re not.” Severus snarled, “You’re _mine._ I raised you to be ten times the wizard he ever was.”

“I _wish_ I was like him!” She threw at him, making him curl away at her words, “He _died…_ tried to fight Voldemort that night… to be _that_ brave…”

“If it hadn’t been for his arrogance, the Dark Lord would have never targeted you in the first place.” Severus seethed aloud. “He was reckless…”

“You can’t erase him out of me and then only label him in Harry.” Ariel shook her head in disbelief. “I’m as much James’ daughter as Harry is his son. I’m… gods, _I’m_ the one in Gryffindor, the House you bloody hate so much! Harry is in _your_ House… he’s been trying _so_ hard to get you to see that he’s trying… and all you can see is dad…”

“You’re not like him.” He repeated, the word _dad_ being used to reference James bloody Potter making his blood boil. “You’re _mine.”_

“He’s my _dad!”_ Ariel yelled, her voice catching in her throat, “You can say it all you want, but it won’t make it any less true. My father was a great man! You… you don’t know what you’re talking about! You’re lying about him like you lie about everything else!”

_“Potter_ was a _swine!”_ Severus thundered back. “He doesn’t deserve _half_ of my attention, if _even_ that! Why would I _lie_ about who he really was —”

“Stop it!”

“You wanted the truth — here it is, plain and simple, Ariel! James Potter was a privileged Pureblood who knew he could have anything, so he took everything for himself. His arrogance is what got him killed — openly defying the Dark Lord, fighting against him, putting _you all_ in _danger!_ Potter had death waiting for him the second he left school, because none of the professors here _dared_ to try and deflate his head!”

“I said STOP IT!” Ariel shrieked up at him, tears streaming down her face. “He’s my DAD!”

“He’s _not!”_ Severus thundered back at him, a bottle of ink smashing to the ground with a toss of his hand.

Ariel stared back at him, her mouth opening and closing several times as she stared at him. He couldn’t recognize the emotions flickering across her face, for they were too many and moving too fast. He thought he saw distress, hurt, even _pity,_ and then there was nothing there. Her bottom lip continued to tremble, soon followed by her hands, and then her eyes were widening, a question in them that he realized he’d indirectly answered.

“What do you… what are you saying?” Ariel backed away, like she was preparing herself to run. “What do you mean he’s _not?_ Of _course_ he is!”

“Did you really think,” Severus said, his voice was barely above a whisper. “all these years, that there wasn’t an indisputable motivation for me taking you in? Did you never question it? Did you never think of why you were nothing like James Potter?”

“Wha… what?” She was staring at him with such fear in her eyes — like he was threatening her. “What are you talking about? I _am_ like him… I… I’m in Gryffindor…”

“Because of your mother.”

“No, no…”

“What else then, Ariel?” Severus eyes flashed. He took a step towards her, and she stumbled back. “Tell me that you've never really wondered, that you’ve never questioned why you only see Lily in yourself.”

“You’re mad.” Her voice was shrill with fear. Severus wanted to tell her he wasn't going to hurt her, but knew it wouldn't help the situation. She’d only yell and try to leave, and Severus couldn't let her do that. Not now.

“Am I?” His hands were shaking so badly that he had to grip a chair to force himself to stay steady. His Shields were coming down piece by piece, and he could feel the raw agony at her expression eating him alive. “Don’t you recognize your eyes?”

Her face clouded over in confusion, and then, it began to dissolve, like salt in water, leaving behind a fresh sheet of panic as the Truth dawned over her.

“You… you can't be. That’s impossible.” Ariel whispered, clutching the back of the sofa, shrinking away from him. “She… mum had me when she was just nineteen… she got married to him —”

Severus bowed his head, but looked her straight in the eye. He hadn’t the strength to deny it. Not knowing that if he did, she’d be lost to him —

“You’re _lying!”_ Ariel’s eyes widened when his silence confirmed it. “No, no, _no…_ you’re lying…”

“Why would I lie?” asked Severus softly, trying to lessen himself, make himself sound gentler, but his mouth tasted like ash.

“I don’t – you _can’t_ be!” She was shaking her head, slowing retreating back. “You said you didn’t – you didn’t know them! You knew mum but you never talked about her! Why would you keep this from me if… if –”

She skittered back and tripped, her back slamming into the couch.

Severus knelt down in front of her. “Ariel, look at me.”

Her eyes were glued to the floor, darting back and forth like she was watching a Quidditch match.

“You can’t be. It’s impossible.” Ariel whispered, arms hugging her torso. “They were my parents… I look just like her… everyone’s always said…”

“Look at me, child.” Severus tried to force her head up, but she fought him. Her feet pushed off the ground, her back slamming into the sofa as though she was trying to disappear into it.

“You _can’t_ be.” Ariel’s hands kneaded the roots of her hair. “It’s not _possible.”_

Jesus fucking Christ, what was it about the girl that made him lose _any_ sense of _tact_ at times?

_Dammit._

Severus stood, running his hands through his hair as he began to pace the floor in front of Ariel. She had begun to cry silently, mouth parted like she was still trying to argue with herself, but had nothing more to say. The quiet covered them like a thick fog until it had smothered the last of Ariel’s shaky breathing. He’d made such a shit show out of this – what was _wrong_ with him –

He stopped and looked down at her, “This wasn’t how I wanted to tell you.”

“Right.” Ariel replied automatically in a hollow voice that was hard around the edges. “You just figured that you could lie to me like you lie about everything else.”

“I knew what would happen.” Severus said, feeling his muscles tense, “I knew what Potter would do.”

She glared up at him, a single sound escaping her mouth but it clamped shut again. Ariel bowed her head and brought her knees to her chin, “I guess it doesn’t matter if I ask what you mean by that or not. It’s not like you’ll give me a straight answer anyway.”

“Is it answers you want, then?”

“I’ve only ever wanted answers.”

“You don’t know enough to understand what you’re asking.”

“And _you_ don’t know my brother well enough to be treating him the way you do!” Ariel snapped back, averting her eyes from him, “Or me, apparently, if you think that I could ever… that I could think any of this is _okay._ I just want the truth from you. No weird dodging, no wordless exits… just _tell_ me — for _once.”_

Severus nodded, the gnawing voice on the inside banging its imaginary fists against the walls of his skull in protest. _WHY DID YOU TELL HER,_ it was screaming. _YOU’VE WROUGHT YOUR PAIN UPON HER._

“You promise?” Ariel cleared her throat. “You promise you won’t lie?”

“I swear it.” He said. His Shields rumbled.

She studied him for a long time after that, eyes welling up in tears, but they didn’t spill over until she took a great, heaving breath and looked him straight in the eye from her spot against the back of the sofa. “Is James Potter my father?”

The ends of his fingers had lost all feeling. The voice screamed.

“No.” Severus said in a gravelly voice. “Biologically, he is not.”

Ariel nodded to herself, a motion that continued as her bottom lip began to tremble.

“And was Lily my mother?” She asked, her arms tightening around her legs.

_She’s going to be her mother all over again, if she has even half the brains and talent Lily did…_

_I hear she looks like the Mudblood. I do recall you having a soft stop for her during our school years, Severus._

_The girl… she looks just like Lily. The boy has her eyes. You do remember Lily’s eyes, don’t you, Severus?_

The voice writhed and moaned and pleaded.

“Yes.” said Severus.

Her teeth came together and her eyes closed as the last of her strength gave way and Ariel began to sob, burying her head against her knees.

Severus couldn’t take it anymore.

He approached Ariel slowly as she wept, not wanting to upset her with his presence anymore than he already had. She did not make a move to skitter back like she had before and Severus took this as a sign to place a hand on her arm as a test.

Ariel stiffened, but did not protest as she continued to sob.

Severus looked up, then, as if searching for help that could be given. The voice had quieted itself now, but had sat back to watch in grim satisfaction, an _I told you so_ bouncing around in the insides of his head. His eyes swept over the room, not knowing where to look, when a flash of green caught them.

Lily’s picture was watching the scene before her in what appeared to be blatant horror. She wasn’t even looking at Severus, but watching the girl as if her greatest wish was the climb out of the portrait and hold her. Lily couldn’t do anything now, just like the night she had died… 

_A broken body, emerald eyes frozen in fear_

But Severus could.

Ariel lifted her head to look at him, obsidian eyes swimming.

He crouched down and picked her clean off the floor, making her cry out in surprise and begin to squirm.

“S-stop!” Ariel croaked out.

Severus didn’t answer, but tightened his grip and lowered himself onto the sofa with her still in his arms and held her close.

Ariel resisted for several moments, moaning and pushing her hands against him, but finally slumped back in defeat, her cries deepening from some great place that sounded like they hurt her chest. She buried her head against him and clung to his robes.

Something akin to relief, but mixed with crippling guilt and anger and fear flowed through him as he waited, wondering if Lily had wanted this. Had she _wanted_ the girl to know? Or had she wanted for Ariel to grow up in a world where her parents had made her out of love and certainty? He didn’t know what to call that one night with Lily, if she had ever felt as strongly about him as he had her his entire life. Would she have wanted Ariel to believe James was her father in order to keep that certainty safe for her?

Severus leaned his cheek against the top of her head and looked back to the picture on the mantle. Lily was watching him now, some of the agony gone from her face, but not all of it. When she caught sight of Severus watching her, however, she gave him a nod and a ghost of a smile.

“I need to hear you say it.” Ariel swallowed loudly through a few sniffles, surprising him. “I need you to tell me out loud.”

“Which part?” Severus murmured against her.

“You know which.” She pressed her face deeper into his robes, as though she were trying to hide from him.

He sighed and brought his arm tighter around her, wondering how he was going to force the words from his mouth. Silence descended upon them as Ariel waited and Severus fought, looking to the portrait on the mantle for strength and finding that it wasn’t enough…

“Lily was my mum.” She said in a soft voice, finally. “And you’re my dad.”

The words aloud made his heart soar and crash in the same moment.

Severus nodded, waiting.

“You have to say it out loud.” He could feel her eyes on him now and didn’t dare look down at them, “It’s not true unless you say it.”

He clutched her closer, moving a hand through her hair and wondered how much longer he would have.

_“Say it!”_ Ariel said loudly, a sniffle accompanying the order.

“Yes.” Severus breathed into her hair.

She brought her knees to her chest and tucked them underneath her chin. She looked so small… so different from the fiery girl that had shouted about the Stone just minutes ago.

“I’m going to throw up, I think.” Ariel leaned over the side of the couch.

Severus held her hair back as she retched, but nothing came up. Her breathing was shallow and quick, and for a moment, he was worried Ariel was going to start hyperventilating. He’d only made a child do that once — he’d been forced to call Pomfrey.

When Ariel began to breathe deeply and evenly on her own, Severus wordlessly summoned a Stomach Settler. As she leaned back against him, he raised the vial to her lips.

“No.” She pushed his hand away.

“It’s to calm your stomach.”

“You’re not drugging me.”

“You’re right, I’m not.” Severus stifled the urge to roll his eyes. “I’m trying to make sure you don't stain my carpet.”

“If I stain your carpet, it's _your_ fault.” Ariel shot back.

She was still settled in his lap, and seemed to realize this at the same moment Severus did. Ariel tried to wriggle away, but he held her there with one hand, the other placing the potion on the table. She glared at him, her cheeks tear-stained and eyes storming with fury.

Ariel repositioned herself so that she was facing him, “Explain this to me before I make myself sick again.”

“Do you _want_ something?” Severus responded instinctively.

“Yeah,” Ariel’s eyes flashed, _“answers.”_

He bowed his head, slowly lifting a hand to graze her tear stained cheek. She leaned into it, and then she began to shake her head and pulled away.

“No,” Ariel grabbed his hand and lowered it herself, “you don’t get to be my dad until you tell me how you came to _be_ my dad.”

Severus let out a long breath and lifted her from his lap, leaving her behind on the sofa in order to bring his daughter the truth he knew he couldn’t tell her himself.

He placed the Pensieve on the table in front of Ariel, raising his wand to his head and extracting the memories he knew she needed to see first, what she needed to know before he told her the other parts of him that Severus knew she wouldn’t be able to handle until she saw these first.

She leaned forward, her curiosity piquing, and with a single gesture from him, Ariel leaned over the Pensieve. 

And then Severus watched as she dove into the great unknown.

* * *

Ariel could immediately feel the pull of emotions that were not her own swirling about her. They brushed against her as she dove, silvery wisps of colors that barely registered to her as they painted a scene before her that she hadn’t been expecting. They were like spirits passing by, only more numerous and moving at the speed of light.

She’d thought he’d be showing her a memory of James, of somewhere at Hogwarts, but instead, Ariel found herself standing behind the bushes that surrounded a playground as the warm summer sun beat down on her. The area, however, was not a foreign sight.

She was by Spinner’s End. She could see the chimney of their house from here. Ariel squinted at it, wondering why in the world he’d brought her back _here._

“Tuney!” A small girl’s voice called, a giggle following it. “Tuney, look! Look what I can do!”

Ariel turned to the sound of the voices, finding that there were two girls using a rickety swing set. There was a boy crouched down behind the foliage, watching them quietly, but Ariel barely noticed him, because something about the younger girl made her heartbeat accelerate.

“Lily, don’t you dare!” Shrieked the other girl, who was obviously the elder. “Mummy told you not to!”

It took a couple of seconds for the name to register, and when it did, Ariel was too numb to be astonished. The sun was shining too brightly, and the smoke coming from all the chimneys in the distance was suddenly clogging her throat… making it hard to breath…

The girls on the swings were her aunt…

...and her _mother._

_“Lily!”_ Petunia hopped off her swing, putting her hands on her hips as Lily’s swing reached the height of it’s arc and she soared through the air like a trapeze artist. She was young — younger than Ariel was now.

“Oh, c’mon Tuney!” Lily laughed, a sound that made Ariel’s heart tighten in her chest. “It’s not like anyone’s around to see! And it’s _fun!”_

“It’s not right!” Petunia sniffed, looking disgusted.

Her mother frowned at this, but bent down to pick something up from the grass as Ariel started to walk forward, yearning to get closer. Lily had picked up a withered flower in her hand, that, within seconds, began to bloom and shine as if it were made of pearls, growing brighter as her own smile grew.

“Stop it!” Petunia shrieked again, sounding more frightened, as she smacked her sister’s hand away, “Stop it Lily! You can’t be _doing_ this kind of thing!”

Her mother’s hair was as red as hers, like wine, deep and wavy and long, with the same nose and ears and face and —

“Why not?” Lily had begun to frown, “It’s not _hurting_ you.”

She was so beautiful. It made her chest _hurt._ Her freckles were in the same spot on her nose – they were less pronounced in the sun, like Ariel’s were.

“Because…” Petunia hesitated, some of the fear and agitation leaking out of her face. “because it’s not _normal,_ Lily!”

“Well then...” Her mother’s eyes grew sad, a look that tore Ariel away from soaking in every inch of her and return back to the reality of the memory. “if I’m not normal, then what am I?”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” A new voice called, the boy from behind the bushes jumping out and nearly scaring the living daylights out of Petunia. Lily looked startled as well, but did not scream like her sister did.

Ariel studied the boy, who had black hair that was much too long and clothes that were almost two sizes too big and eyes that matched someone she knew very well…

Everything that made up her chest cavity seemed to leap into her throat as she looked at the child version of Severus, who turned red when he realized he had left his hiding spot from behind the bush. Seeing her father was like receiving a punch to the chest… seeing him this _small…_ not the towering figure that had raised her —

“What’s obvious?” Lily demanded, though her green eyes, the exact shape and color of Harry’s, lit up with a hint of curiosity. She could see Harry in her, too, in her nose and eyes… she couldn’t believe she’d never noticed it until now…

Ariel could feel nervous excitement practically radiating off of Severus. With a half glare, half glance at the cowering Petunia, he ducked his head and said in a low voice, “I know what you are.”

If she hadn’t been so shocked and hurt and angry, Ariel might have rolled her eyes. It seemed _everyone_ had a need for a Severus-to-English translator.

“What do you mean?” Her mother asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion now.

“You’re… you’re a witch.” Severus whispered.

Well, maybe he _could_ talk like a normal person sometimes. 

And then the memory began to melt as Petunia’s cold laughter hit her ears, making Ariel cringe away. The scene resembled itself before she could even register what had just happened, leading to a grove of trees beside a river where the sunlight filtered through like droplets of sun.

“And being a… what did you call it?”

“Muggleborn.” Severus’ voice answer her mother.

The both of them were lying down, sprawled under the nest of trees, their heads resting against their arms. It looked cozy – warm. The grass was thick, and the stream created a steady sound in the background, like this spot was tucked away in a private place – like it belonged in that secret part of Severus’ mind, and heart.

Ariel crept near, wanting to get closer, wanting to touch them, but as her fingertips grazed her mother’s arm, the shape of her seemed to wisp away, like paint when you added water.

“Does it make a difference?” Lily looked oddly fearful, like this had been eating away at her for some time.

Severus hesitated and Ariel noted it, wondering why. “No. It doesn’t matter.”

Lily looked relieved, picking at the grass and twisting it in her fingers. Ariel noticed that the quicks of her fingernails were down to the nub, as though she chewed her nails like Ariel did when she was stressed.

“You said your mum’s a witch?” asked Lily.

Severus nodded, “She comes from a whole line of them.”

“What about your dad?”

A scowl crossed her father’s face, vaguely reminding her of the man she knew in the present. “He’s a Muggle.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Lily frowned, “My entire family doesn’t have magic.”

There was another hesitant pause, and Ariel began to feel her mother’s puzzlement at it, “It’s not.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Severus grabbed a fistful of grass, letting it fall back to the ground, “it’s only because… well, you know my father doesn’t like magic much. He doesn’t like much of anything, really.”

A sadness that Ariel didn’t know how to identify welled up at his bitter tone, watching him as his dark eyes lowered themselves to the grass, as green as her mother’s eyes, and let his much too long hair to cover his face. It was still… very weird to see her father as a boy. He was one of those people that had seemed like they’d always existed.

They were both quiet for a minute or so after that, until Lily turned her head back towards him, “Severus?”

A small smile —  a _smile —_ twisted his mouth when she said his name. He looked up. “Yes?”

“Tell me about Hogwarts again.”

There was a rustling of leaves and when Ariel turned, Severus jumped up. It was Petunia, hiding behind a bush and it seemed she had lost her footing.

“Tuney!” Lily cried, welcoming warmth in her voice, but her father seemed to feel differently.

“Who’s spying now?” Severus shouted, “What do _you_ want?”

“She’s _my_ sister!” Petunia yelled back shrilly, obviously alarmed at being caught. “Last time I checked, I don’t need permission to look out for her!” She looked at Lily, growing angrier by the second, “I told you he was mad! _Hogwarts?_ Listen to yourselves!”

There was a loud crack and suddenly, a branch over Petunia’s head had fallen. Her mother screamed, making both Ariel and her father jump, and the branch caught Petunia on the shoulder.

“Did you make that happen?” Lily rounded on Severus.

“No!” He looked scared.

“You did!” Lily was backing away from him. “You hurt her!”

Something filled up in her father’s eyes that made Ariel want to vomit as her mother took off running after Petunia. It resembled a sadness, but somehow it reached far deeper and made her feel like she was falling as the memory blurred and swirled around her legs before they appeared before her again.

They were getting on the Hogwart’s Express. Lily’s face was blotchy, like she had just been crying, while Severus was scanning the crowd warily. His gaze landed on a woman who greatly resembled him with the same black hair and sallow skin.

Ariel blanched – was that his –

Before she could get a better look at Severus’ mother, both he and Lily had boarded the train, and Ariel was being pulled along with them.

“She’s wrong, you know.” Severus said as they began to walk down the narrow corridor. “You’re not a freak.”

Lily smiled at him, a grateful look that made her father’s eyes light up in a way Ariel had never seen them before.

“And besides,” He said, exhilarated, yet _another_ emotion that Ariel had never seen on him. “we’re going! This is it! We’re off to Hogwarts!”

Lily nodded, though it still looked like her mind was somewhere else, but gave a half smile.

“You’d better be in Slytherin.” Severus continued, seeming encouraged that she had brightened a little.

_“Slytherin?”_ A voice full of disgust called from across the compartment, “Who wants to be in _Slytherin?_ I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?”

It was then that Ariel realized that Severus and Lily were not alone in the compartment, but were joined by two boys with jet black hair that shined against the lights.

For a moment, Ariel felt her heart stop in her chest, thinking it was Harry she was looking at. But the boy’s eyes were a light hazel, nothing like Lily’s or her brother’s. He had an air about him that Harry didn’t have either, one that told her that he had been well cared for, even adored, that Harry had so conspicuously lacked. James was a first year here, just like Harry was now, the resemblance between them undeniable.

_“Dad.”_ Ariel whispered aloud as James looked at Severus, his eyebrow raising itself as if to say, _“are you serious?”_

“My whole family’s been in Slytherin.” Answered the other boy. He had shoulder length black hair, much like Severus’, except his was curly and did not fall about his face.

“Blimey,” James nudged the unnamed boy’s elbow. “and I thought you seemed alright!”

No-name grinned, “Maybe I’ll break tradition. Where are you heading, if you’ve got the choice?”

James pretended to lift up an invisible sword, “Gryffindor, where the brave lie at heart!”

Severus made a disparaging noise, “I guess some of us would rather be brawny than brainy.”

“Where’re _you_ hoping to go, seeing as you're neither?” James’ newfound friend interjected.

Lily stood and rolled her eyes as James roared with laughter, “Come on, Severus. Let’s find another compartment.”

Ariel stood, stunned by the display she’d just watched. It seemed as though Lily and James hadn’t gotten along at _all_ from the beginning – James was obnoxious, and Severus had been… well, Severus had made a snarky comment, like always. This _couldn’t_ be right. All the stories McGonagall had told her… about how happy they’d been together… how much they’d loved one another… the pictures…

But then again, the sight of Severus and mother being so close still had her mind reeling. They’d known each other since they were _little –_ since before _Hogwarts…_ and all this time Ariel had thought that they’d been friendly acquaintances…

“See ya, _Snivellus!”_ James called as they slammed the compartment door shut on them, and something furious sprang to life inside of her at the name.

The memories following were short and quick, giving Ariel glimpses of how their relationship evolved as the years went by. Her mother had seemingly risen to the top of their class, for many of the small conversations Ariel was given previews of seemed to be in the middle of them studying in the library or outside. She drank it all up, wanting more as they flashed before her. Their friendship, even though Lily had been Sorted into Gryffindor and Severus into Slytherin, had seemed to have become a natural thing. It was obvious that the House prejudices had been heightened back then, the slivers of James Potter Hexing or Jinxing Severus a reminder when Ariel had felt herself begin to relax and watch Lily and her father talk and enjoy one another’s company. The spurts were short and sweet and displayed their message clearly; they had been what James and Lily had not. Severus had _cared, really_ cared about her, more than Ariel had thought, because Severus acted like he couldn’t care about anyone…

“You’re brewing?” Lily laughed as Severus sent her a sly smirk in one memory, “In your _dormitory?_ A young potion’s master in the making, then?”

A flash later, and then…

“You can’t expect Potter to do _anything_ right!” Lily fumed to Severus, cleaning up a mess that Ariel assumed James had made, “Him and Black… gods, I can’t stand them…”

“Look alive, _Snivellus!”_ James’ haughty voice called and the scene rushed forward.

“I don’t know how he sees anything with all that grease hanging in his face.” James’ friend from before, now a handsome teenager, quipped, making himself chuckle at his own joke, “How’d you like it if we _cut it off?”_

“You stay away from him!” Lily shouted back, both her and Severus’ wands drawn against James and the other boy.

“I’m _fine,_ Lily.” Severus shot her a look, but it only seemed to goad James even more.

“What, can’t hold your own, Sniv?” He taunted, “But then again, Slytherins aren’t known for being brave, now are they?”

Potter and the nameless friend disappeared, and it was just Severus and Lily walking through the grounds on what appeared to be a spring day.

“Do you want kids, Sev?” Lily asked, nudging his shoulder, “I know you say you don’t like them much, but if you ever got married and stuff, would you want one?”

His entire neck and face went beet-red and her mother laughed at the sight.

“I don’t know.” He muttered, lowering his eyes to the ground as Ariel held her breath, “I guess it would depend on who I’m reproducing with.”

_“Reproducing?”_ Lily rolled her eyes.

“Well, that’s what it is, isn’t it?” Severus argued.

“So it’s all dependent on who, then?” She laughed, clearly getting a kick out of how uncomfortable she was making him.

“Well, that _is_ kind of important, Lily.” It was his turn to roll his eyes.

“I know, smartass.” Lily sighed, smiling up at him, “Girl or boy?”

“I don’t have a preference.”

She made a face, “You’re no fun.”

“Is this what girls do in their free time?”

“Can you at least tell me what names you like? If you had to choose right now, what would you name a kid?”

Her father huffed in annoyance, but at the sight of those green eyes widening, he looked up thoughtfully.

“For a boy…” He looked at her sideways, “I guess Septimus.”

This time, Ariel was actually able to roll her eyes.

Lily snorted, “That sounds like a kind of Muggle kitchen cleaning product.”

_“You’re_ the one who bloody asked!” Severus snapped, turning red again.

“Okay, okay.” She couldn’t seem stifle a round of giggles, “And for a girl?”

He looked down at the ground, kicking a rock away with his boot, “I… I always thought your name was pretty. But if I had to choose another… I like the name Ariel.”

Ariel’s throat closed up, making it hard to breath. She wanted to leave the Pensieve all of a sudden, but at the same time, she needed to see the rest. 

Lily’s eyes sparkled at this, “That’s a good name. It’s much better than _Septimus.”_

“I’ll be sure to consult you should I need a deliberation on naming a son.” Severus muttered to her mother, who childishly stuck her tongue out at him.

The scene dissolved once more, and suddenly there were at Hogwarts, or the castle courtyard, to be exact. They seemed to be arguing. Ariel frowned.

“I thought we were supposed to be best friends?” Severus was saying, considerably taller than their first train ride. They both were walking along, her father in Slytherin robes and her mother in Gryffindor ones, a tense, but desperate feeling surrounding the two of them.

Lily had reached a pillar and leaned against it, looking up at Severus’ thin face, “We are, Sev –”

_... Sev?_

_“_ — but I don’t like the sort of people you’re hanging round with! Avery? _Mulciber?_ For Merlin’s sake, Sev, _Mulciber!_ What do you even see in him, he’s a creep! Don’t you know what he did to Mary the other day? He cornered her in some bloody broom closet and tried to –”

“I know, I know.” Severus said quickly, as though he was afraid of hearing it aloud, “He was just scaring her, Lily. It was just a bit of fun.”

_“Fun?”_ She looked angry now, and he winced. “Dark magic isn’t _fun,_ Severus!”

Ariel watched, gob smacked not only by the conversation itself, but the way her father was reacting to her mother. She had never – _never –_ seen him act fearful, or as if he didn’t have the power to smite whomever was in the room. He never cared what people thought, how people reacted to him, never put an ounce of anything good into any of the relationships he had, save theirs, of course…

She was slowly beginning to suspect what that mysterious flash was in her father’s eyes, because it was here now, and he was looking right at Lily.

“What about Saint Potter and his mates?” Severus demanded, his resentment leaking through.

“What’s Potter got to do with anything?” Lily asked, and Ariel couldn’t help wondering the same thing. Yes, the other memories had shown them stirring up mischief and antagonizing, but nothing that appeared to be _anything_ like _dark magic._

But what did her father have to do with dark magic? He’d always warned her against it… nearly given himself an ulcer last year when she’d used it…

The names Mulciber and Avery also stirred something up in her that she couldn’t put her finger on.

“They Hex other students.” Severus shot back, “You don’t seem to have a problem with _that.”_

_“Potter_ isn’t my best friend!” Lily looked affronted, “And… well, yes, what they do is awful, but it’s not _evil.”_

“I’m just trying to show you that they’re not as wonderful as everyone thinks they are.”

The intensity of his gaze made Lily blush, and all of a sudden, it hit Ariel like a tsunami. It filled her to the very brim, a brand new warmth chasing away all the hurt and the confusion and anger for a moment. Severus was… he was –

“They don’t use dark magic.” Lily dropped her voice, “I don’t need you to tell me who I should spend my time around.”

“I won’t let you –”

“Let me? _Let me?”_ Lily’s bright green eyes were slits. “Since when do you order me around, Severus Snape?”

Ariel expected him to raise his voice like he always did when he was challenged, but backtracked his words at once, “I didn’t mean… he fancies you, alright? James Potter _fancies_ you! He’s not anything… everyone thinks he’s some big Quidditch hero… like he’s the greatest thing to grace this Earth…” His bitterness and resentment was rendering him incoherent.

“I know that!” Lily sounded worried, suddenly, like she was concerned with his reaction. Her hand reached up and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “I just… I don’t understand how _you_ can be friends with those creeps…”

“Just promise me _we’ll_ always be friends.” Severus said, looking downtrodden.

“Of course we will.” She sighed, defeated by the fact that he hadn’t even noticed her reproach about her opinion on his Slytherin friends.

They were gone and the flashes of color and mist blurred lines once more, only this time, there was a hint of darkness around this memory.

Her father was making his way towards a tree and sat down, a piece of parchment gripped tightly in his hands. He was maybe a year older now, a twitchiness to his walk that Ariel found odd. He didn’t walk like that anymore. Had this boy really turned into the broad-shouldered, strong man she knew? 

“Oi, _Snivellus!”_ Shouted a boy’s voice suddenly, causing her father’s teenage eyes to narrow automatically. He stood up, drawing his wand defensively, but it seemed that he was too late.

It was her dad – _James –_ and the unnamed boy from the train. James pointed his wand at Severus and called, _“Impedimenta!”_ looking pleased.

Feeling stupid and slow, Ariel reached for her own want, but nothing happened. She looked around wildly, looking for anything that could help –

Severus had been knocked to the grass and was struggling to get up, his wand lying out of reach.

“How’d the exam go, Snivelly?” James sneered, drawing a little closer.

“I was watching him; his nose was touching the parchment.” said the other boy in a vicious voice that made Ariel glare at him. A crowd of people had drawn round in a wide ring. “There’ll be great grease marks all over it,” He went on, “they won’t be able to read a word.”

Some people in the crowd laughed. Ariel felt as if she might be sick.

“You _fucking…”_ Severus was panting, _“wait…”_

“No can do, Snivelly.” James sneered, “I’d rather not wait around and have you attack us with that great greasy nose of yours.”

“Shut up!” Ariel screamed at him, feeling sick to her stomach. What was _wrong_ with them? Why were they acting like this?

“And I’d wash out your mouth if I were you.” James tsked, and No-Name laughed, along with a heavier boy with blonde hair that was looking up at her father in what looked like admiration, _“Scourgify!”_

Pink soap bubbles streamed from her father’s mouth, choking him as he gasped.

Ariel could feel bile gathering in the back of her throat, her hands reaching towards the struggling figure on the ground and wanting nothing more than to help him… or to Hex James and his awful friend, but she couldn’t do a thing – Ariel was helpless.

_“Stop it!”_ Lily’s voice shouted, fury making it shake as she stalked over to the scene, “Leave him _alone!”_

Her chest flooded with relief. Her mother would do something about this.

“Feeling alright, Evans?” said James, his tone changing automatically, as though this was some way to try and impress her.

“Leave him _alone.”_ Lily repeated coldly, “What’s he done to you?”

“Well,” James smirked, “it’s more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean.”

Her heart practically fell out of her chest at his words, but for who, she didn’t know. To see James, torturing someone unprovoked, in front of the entire _school._ This wasn’t the man she’d been told of. James was kind and good and had fought _against_ those he was acting like right now. And _Severus…_

He was glaring at James with such a vicious look that she didn’t know how James was still standing. His face held the epitome of pure hatred – it should have turned them all into puffs of smoke.

“You think you’re funny,” Lily snapped at James, “but you’re just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him alone.”

“I will if you go out with me, Evans,” said James, “Go out with me, and I’ll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again.”

“I wouldn’t go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid!” Lily spat at him.

None of them had been paying attention to Severus anymore, even Ariel, for there was a streak of red light and was No-Name shouting at James to watch out, and then James was sending another streak of light back Severus’ way. He was now hanging upside down, skinny, pale legs and grey underwear showing.

“Let him _down!”_ Lily said in a very controlled, but obviously furious, voice.

“Alright, Evans.” James sighed and he jerked his wand upwards.

Severus fell into a crumpled heap on the ground, jumping to his feet and reaching for his wand, but No-Name called, _“Petrificus Totalus!”_ in a bored sort of voice and Severus crashed again to the grass.

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!” Lily shouted, pulling out her own wand.

“Ah, Evans, don’t make me hex you.” James sighed, eying her warily.

“Take the curse off him, then!”

James sighed deeply, but he turned to her father and muttered the counter-curse.

“There you go,” James said, as Severus struggled to his feet, “You’re lucky Evans was here, Snivellus.”

“I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!”

Ariel let out a gasp, the breath stolen right out of her throat – it burned. She couldn’t have heard him right. No. _No._ Not after… he… he _cared_ for her…

Her mother looked just as hurt as Ariel felt, a glimmer of hurt and knowledge dimming her green eyes for a fraction of a second before a cold look washed over her face.

“Fine,” Lily said coolly, “I won’t bother in future. And I’d wash your pants if I were you, _Snivellus.”_

It hurt so much that Ariel couldn’t breath. Why were they… wha… what was –

Ariel could hear her parents shouting at each other, but it seemed to be happening in a different time. She was staring at Severus. She couldn’t look away. She had never seen someone look like they might collapse in on themselves. Her father looked… like the world had gone, like he was suddenly all alone and it was all his fault.

“Evans!” James was shouting. “Hey, _Evans!”_

There was another flash of light, and Snape was once again hanging upside-down in the air.

“Who wants to see me take off Snivelly’s trousers?”

Ariel hated them – James, her not-father, and the nameless boy and the people in the crowd who had laughed. And surprisingly enough, her mother, who had called him that _horrible_ name…

She hated Severus most of all, because he’d called her –

Could you be sick inside of a Pensieve?

The scene changed, leaving Ariel feeling empty and cold.

“I’m _sorry.”_

“I’m not interested.” Lily’s voice replied.

It was nighttime and she was wearing a nightgown, standing with her arms folded in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady. “I only came out because Remus told me you were threatening to sleep here.”

“I was. I _will._ I never meant to call you a Mudblood, it just —” Severus trailed off, looking pained.

“Slipped out?” Her voice was void of anything that Ariel yearned to hear again. “It’s too late. I’ve made excuses for you for _years._ None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your _precious_ little Death Eater friends! Merlin… I… I can’t pretend anymore. You’ve chosen your way and I’ve chosen mine.”

“No… Lily _please,_ listen! I didn’t mean it!” Her father pleaded, panic sweeping over him. His voice had a slight tremor in it.

Didn’t… didn’t she _realize…_

“To call me a Mudblood?” Lily asked, disbelieving, “But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I be any different?”

And then, with a contemptuous look, she turned and climbed back through the portrait hole.

_“Wait!”_ Ariel cried, reaching towards her mother, who was lost as the world began to swirl around her once more, “You can’t! You _promised_ him!”

And suddenly, she was watching Lily and James together, holding hands and laughing. They strutted down the hall, looking perfect at each other’s side, like they had been molded for one another. They were the picture Ariel had always seen of them, come to know as a common fact.

It wasn’t so much for _her_ anymore, because hidden behind a stone column, Severus was watching with a look that put the word agony to shame.

She blinked back tears as the memory pulled her onwards again. This time, her father looked more like he did now. He was older, maybe eighteen or nineteen, and wearing those black robes Ariel had seen him wear every day for as far back as she could remember. Her mother was in Muggle clothes, and it was then that Ariel realized that _this_ Lily was the one she had seen in pictures of her when she had been a baby.

Ariel looked around at the setting, confused. Lily hadn’t forgiven him – she’d dated James…

So why was she here, now, with Severus?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Today is a two-chapter upload, because these two chapters really belong together. And to answer – the everyday uploads will happen up until the end of January, when hopefully, we’ll be back where we left off. Enjoy Xx


	24. A Hazy Shade of Winter

_16 December, 1978_

It was bitterly cold for a winter day in Hogsmeade. Sure, it was _always_ cold this far north in Scotland, but something was different about today that chilled Lily to the bone.

It was a welcome distraction to think about the cold again. It had been mere months since she’d returned to Hogsmeade, but it brought back a familiarity that Hogwarts and school had always brought along with it. James and Sirius, flying into the Quidditch store the second they arrived, leaving Lily and Remus to roll their eyes after them. Peter had always stood there, looking torn between who he’d rather go with. Usually, it was James, but Peter had been acting rather strangely towards their final days as students and had reserved himself to the dorms to study instead of accompanying them.

She’d had countless dates with James here, accompanied and unaccompanied by Sirius. Lily almost laughed aloud as she reminisced, thinking of how angry she had been when she’d found out Sirius had been following James and her around as Padfoot, but now, the notion was almost laughable. It was comforting to know that James’ friends were loyal and always there, even if it wasn’t known…

Lily pushed the thought away from her mind, for the wind bit at her heels and she picked up her pace and headed for the Hog’s Head **.**

As she entered the pub, the warm air and cacophony of voices hit her senses, and for a moment, she was a student again. But reality hit her as several unfamiliar faces turned to look at the new patron, and it was then that Lily remembered that she was in the middle of a war and not a doey-eyed school girl. But then again, had she ever been one?

He was sitting in the farthest corner, away from all the people and with his head down, though he lit up at the sight of her.

“You’re not taking care of yourself again, Remus.” Lily sighed as she slid into the chair across from him, “It’s only been a week since I’ve last seen you and you already look worse. Can’t I trust James to take care of you?”

“If anyone needs to be taken care of, it’s James.” Remus smiled, though it was a sad one that didn’t quite reach his kind, grey eyes.

“Don’t you start.” Lily warned. “We’re talking about _you_ right now, Remus Lupin.”

“He’s lost without you, Lily. I wish you’d give him an answer.”

“He asked me to _marry him,_ Remus. You act as if he asked if he was allowed to buy a dog. Stop trying to change the subject.” Lily rolled her eyes.

“You _can_ say no, you know.” He reached across the table to squeeze her hand, “Or at least, no for right now.”

Oh, she knew she could. Quite frankly, Lily had contemplated saying it right then and there when James had asked – bent down on one knee, his hazel eyes gazing up at her, burning for the _“yes,”_ that hadn’t come as naturally as Lily had thought it would. But they were only eighteen, for Merlin’s sake, and while she knew that she loved James, she didn’t know if it was _enough_ for her right now. With the recent death of her parents and a war raging around her where people like _Lily_ were being targeted, marriage seemed very, _very_ tempting, a safety net that would have caught her just as she’d fallen, and she felt _very_ comfortable falling with James…

But she hadn’t, and so Lily had gently told James that she needed time to think, time apart from him for a while. And so she and Remus, who had turned out to be her closest companion during these past three years, met up weekly, where he would try and convince her to talk to James, and Lily would try and convince _him_ to take better care of himself. Honestly – what was Sirius doing? Why wasn’t _he_ helping?

Lily didn’t answer Remus, partly because she didn’t want to, and because she didn’t know _how_ to answer.

Instead, she reached a hand across the table and took Remus’ in hers. “How are you? Really?”

“I’m fine, Lily.” Remus sighed, squeezing her hand. “I’m about the same… maybe a little more tired than usual. With all these missions Dumbledore has us going on, I don’t get as much sleep as I’d like to, but that doesn’t matter with everything that’s happening…”

“Of course it matters!” She frowned. “Remus, if you need a break, I’m sure someone else could take over.”

“I’m fine.” He shook his head and gave a soft chuckle. “Really, I’d rather be busy helping than sitting around and waiting for James and Sirius to get back. I’d go mad.”

“How do you think _I_ feel?” Lily grumbled, crossing her arms tightly across her chest and looking out the window, “One battle so far, and I was barely there for ten minutes.”

 _“That much?”_ Remus echoed, “Lily, Bellatrix sent a Killing Curse whizzing past your head!”

_“Avada Kedavra!” A high pitched voice cackled from her right, and Lily dove out of the way just in time just as a ray of green light hit the wall she’d just been standing in front of._

_“Come on, witch bitch!” Bellatrix giggled, pointing her wand down at Lily, whose chest heaved up and down as she glared up at the Enemy. Her ice-blue eyes locked onto Lily’s green, and just as both the witches went to raise their wands again, something unexpected happened._

_“Stupefy!” A deep, baritone voice roared, and Bellatrix went flying through the air, several feet away from Lily had kneeled over._

_She scrambled to her feet, looking at the now unconscious bundle of black robes and hair, and wondered if she should try and arrest her, or wait for an Auror._

_“Go!” The same voice snapped, causing Lily’s head to whip around in search of the person it belonged to._

_Her wand went up when a figure stepped out the shadows, a Death Eater mask covering his face and wand lowered, though the tip still glowed red from the Stunner._

_Lily recognized that voice anywhere._

_“Severus?” She croaked._

_“Lily?” James’ frantic voice called from somewhere, “Lils, are you alright? Where are you?”_

_She turned in the direction James’ voice, and the masked man Apparated away –_

Lily hadn’t told James or Remus or anyone else in the Order who had saved her. She’d simply told them that someone’s stray Stunner had done the job, though it was of little use in the end. Rodolphus Lestrange had grabbed his unconscious wife and Apparated away before anyone could put Bellatrix in a Body Bind.

Lily thought about it a lot more than she probably should be. She’d even begun to _dream_ about it. It was horrifying enough knowing that her ex-best friend had joined You-Know-Who, but it was nothing compared to the confusion that clouded her already flustered mind. If Severus wanted to fight against the Order and help Voldemort, then why bother _saving her?_ If Voldemort won, Lily would most likely be killed – or worse, _enslaved._ She’d heard the way Mulciber and Avery jeered at her during seventh year. James and Sirius had nearly Hexed them bloody before Remus and her dragged them away, but her old friend had never once done that. Severus had avoided her like the plague since the day she’d refused to forgive him. That didn’t excuse the fact that he’d actually gone and _become_ one of them… but why had he saved her? What did he have to gain from that?

“I know, I know… I just feel like I could be doing more.” Lily sighed, leaning forward on her elbows and looking out the fogged up window as she tried to clear her mind. “You know me, Remus. I can’t sit still for long.”

“It’s been quiet.” Remus ducked his head and leaned towards her, all traces of lightheartedness suddenly gone from his grey eyes. “It’s not that Dumbledore isn’t using you… You-Know-Who’s been quiet lately. We don’t know why, but it can’t be good. There’s been talk of bigger attacks… more people disappearing…”

“Then I should _know!”_ Lily snapped, “Why isn’t anyone _telling_ me anything? Is it James? Is he trying to protect me?”

Remus hesitated, and she stood up, suddenly furious.

“Oh, come on now, Lils!” Remus pleaded, grabbing the sleeve of her robe, “He’s scared senseless for you! You know he just wants to see you safe… and since you’re not together, he just wants to make sure nothing happens that he could have prevented.”

“I can take care of myself!”

“I _know.”_ He sounded exasperated, “He loves you, Lily, and love makes people do things without thinking. Don’t be mad at him. If things get bad again, I’m sure you’ll be called.”

“He just _had_ to go and ask me to marry him.” Lily fell back into her seat and buried her face in her hands, “He _had_ to go and complicate things. For Merlin’s sake – we’re only _eighteen_ , Remus! What is this – 1790? I… I can’t _think_ about something like that right now!”

“Yes, imagine that.” Remus rolled his eyes, “A man loves you and wants to spend the rest of his life with you. _What a notion.”_

“Shut up. You know what I mean.”

“I do.” He sighed, crossing his arms in front of him and leaning forward, “Listen, I’m not saying you need to give him an answer. Hell, I’m not saying you have to marry the poor bloke. But reach out to him, let him know how you’re doing. I can hear him pacing his room at night. It’s starting to drive Padfoot mad.”

Lily sighed. She wondered if and when things got better, she would wonder why she drove herself mad over all these dilemmas. Or maybe she was destined to be conflicted all the time.

“I don’t want to get married in the middle of a war, Remus.” She muttered, looking back out the window and the wind swirling the fallen snow outside, “I _do_ love him… I just don’t know if I love him enough to say yes.”

It was true. Lily couldn’t deny that the arrogant little toerag she’d been battling since first year had finally won her over once he’d matured and stopped attacking a certain Slytherin every chance he’d gotten. Once she’d gotten to know him, Lily had realized that James was just what she needed after the day that same Slytherin had called her a Mudblood – _simple_. He loved unconditionally and wholeheartedly. There was no fighting, no days of wondering who would break the silence first, no wondering what the other was thinking. Of course, perhaps that was one-sided, because somedays James really didn’t seem to understand certain aspects of her. Meanwhile Lily got him perfectly. Sweet, uncomplicated James…

“He knows that, too.” Remus’ eyes lowered, “Lily, you can’t just keep avoiding the fact that –”

His eyes snapped up suddenly, widening as Lily’s own shone with confusion at his sudden change in demeanor. He reached into the pocket of his robes, extracting a blue stone each member of the Order had been given in case of emergency. It vibrated and turned pink when the holder was needed. Lily’s had almost forgot just how brightly it shined, for hers hadn’t lit up in weeks.

“I have to go.” Remus stumbled out of his chair as Lily let out a frustrated cry.

“Unbelievable.” She snarled, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. Lily fell back against the chair with a snarl.

“I’m sorry, Lily.” He apologized clumsily as he buttoned his cloak around him, giving her cheek a quick peck before rushing past her, “I’ll Floo you later.”

She stood, ready to storm home and sulk for the rest of the day. She wrapped her cloak tightly around her, eyeing flitting to the other side of the pub, nearly missing the very person she’d been thinking so much about the past couple of months.

His obsidian eyes met hers, and Lily’s heart skipped a beat.

Immediately her first instinct was to get the hell out of there, but for a terrifying moment, Lily wondered if it might be too late. How long did she have before Death Eaters swooped in and dragged her away? Or maybe they would kill her right then and there. After all, she _was_ a Mudblood, and a part of the Order to top it all off. How many times had Purebloods at school told her she was way _way_ out of place, that she was too naive to notice how far out of bounds she really was?

And then there was the question of how long he had been here. Had he already been here when she came in?

An odd tugging at the back of her mind snapped her back to the present and made her realize that she’d been staring dumbly back at him. Lily held his gaze for what seemed like an eternity, and when nothing happened, she let out the breath she’d been holding in. She simply stood there, watching, until his lips twitched at the ends and he finally turned back around towards what she assumed was his drink.

Lily felt her anger flare up. Was there something _funny_ about her been scared out of her wits at the sight out him? Though Lily wasn’t quite sure she was _fearful…_ the last time she’d seen Severus Snape, it had been on their last trip home on the Hogwart’s Express, and they hadn’t spoken for two years before that. Not since the night she’d turned him away at Gryffindor Tower and something had begun eating away at her.

No matter, Lily found herself determined to find out what his deal was before contemplating if antagonizing a _Death Eater_ was a good idea or not. Between being frustrated at James and the Order and her recent ponderings over Severus, Lily was done wondering.

She stormed over to the bar, throwing herself onto the stool beside her oldest friend, who looked _very_ taken aback at her sudden boldness.

She needed a drink. She’d needed one for a while now, actually.

“Firewhiskey.” Lily told the bartender, who raised an eyebrow at her. She raised one right back, biting the inside of her cheek, only lowering it once he began to pour a glass.

She glanced at Severus, finding that his own eyebrow was reaching his forehead, though he looked a lot less confused and a _lot_ more curious now.

“Would you like one?” Lily gestured with her hands to the drink placed in front of her sarcastically, flipping her hair over her shoulder as she took her first sip. It burned her throat, but in a good way.

His lips pursed together, but Severus still did not speak.

“Fine, be that way.” Lily gulped the rest of it down, sliding the glass back towards the bartender, who seemed reluctant to serve her another, “I can take a hint.”

“I haven’t said anything.” Severus finally said, the familiar silk of his voice causing a shiver to go down her spine.

“You don’t need to.” She quipped, downing half of the second glass, “Actions _do_ speak louder than words.”

He stiffened at this, sitting up straighter in the stool, before he pushed away from the bar, making the wooden legs screech against the stone floor. His raven hair fell around his thin jawline, like a thick curtain, barely covering the flash of betrayal on his face.

“Going back to your friends, then?” Lily called quietly, sobering up immediately. She didn’t know why, but a part of her ached at the idea of him leaving.

Severus’ back was turned to her, though he stopped dead in his tracks at her words.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said in a low voice.

“I’m not an idiot, Severus.” Lily whispered, staring at the wall in front of her. The bartender had gone off to the opposite end, leaving them both alone in the far corners of the bar, alone and tense. “I may be a Mudblood.” He turned around at this, black eyes widening as Lily took another sip of firewhiskey, “But I’m not stupid.”

“I didn’t…” Severus swallowed loudly and turned back around, “I don’t consider you either of those things, Lily.”

“Really? Because Bellatrix and Macnair sure seem to think so. You know them, don’t you? You’re all good friends, from what _I’ve_ seen.”

His nostrils flared angrily, hands balling at his side, but Lily met his furious scowl with her own. She knew it was borderline suicidal to provoke him like this, that he could easily take her life with the flick of his wand, or call others to come and take her. But she had so many questions for him, and now that she had found him all alone, they nearly clawed their way up her throat. Part of her wondered what the hell she was doing, mocking a Death Eater, but she could see little flashes of _her_ Sev behind the man he had become –

“Bellatrix Lestrange and Walden Macnair are _not_ my fucking friends.” He hissed, his hooked nose suddenly inches away from hers.

“Well, maybe not Bellatrix.” Lily replied coldly, holding his gaze. “After all, I don’t think _friends_ Stun one another in order to save the enemy, now do they?”

Severus leaned away, and Lily could tell she’d caught him off guard. She suppressed a triumphant smirk, realizing that this might be the first time she’d _ever_ done so. He’d always been quick when they were kids. She’d never been able to pull one over on him. Severus had always been clever like that.

He sighed and shook his head slightly, slumping back onto the stool Lily had originally found him at, “You know, I used to think the reason you hated me so much is because you didn’t get me. And I think maybe I was right.” Raw anger and hurt leaked into his voice, “You really don’t know me at all.”

“I don’t hate you.” She murmured, eyes trained on the still busy bartender, “I’ve never hated you, and if you think that, then you don’t know me very well either.”

Severus’ eyes met hers, and it was then that Lily realized that the hungry looked he had so often gazed upon her with when they were kids had manifested itself on his face again. It had used to frighten her, but now, it made her inch towards him as though he were the only source of oxygen.

“We shouldn’t be here.” He breathed, his glare turning to the other bar patrons, who had begun to watch them with an unsettling curiosity, “I should go…”

“You could at least explain yourself.” Lily pushed the drink towards him in invitation, gesturing with her eyes, “I’d like to know why you saved my life.”

“How do you know it was me?” The raised, skeptical eyebrow was back, though he was still tensed, as though he was wound up and ready to spring away any second.

 _“Right.”_ She nodded, as though she were deep in thought, “I never considered the possibility of it being Lucius Malfoy.”

Severus’ lip curled.

“I _do_ deserve an answer.” Lily continued, “You ignore me for two years and then —”

“I _ignored you?”_ His nostrils flared, “I… I _begged_ you to forgive me, Lily! You ran off with fucking Potter –”

“You called me a Mudblood!” She snapped back, “And then you _joined_ the very people who’d love nothing more than to kill me!”

“And _you_ said that you could never like a simpleton like Potter!” Severus snarled, “And now you’re going to _marry_ him!”

“That’s none of your business!” She wondered how he knew that… she’d said _no…_ how the _hell –_

“And what I do with my life is none of yours!”

Lily let her hurt show at this, though she didn’t know why. He _was_ right – they hadn’t been friends for nearly three years now. Why _should_ she care about what Severus decided to do with the rest of his life?

_because it stung knowing that her best friend wanted her dead_

“I guess I just don’t understand you, Severus.” Lily said quietly, all her previous swagger and bravery gone, leaving her with nothing but an aching sadness and longing. “Why you would save someone who You-Know-Who thinks is worthless is beyond me.”

His mouth was partially opened, and a thin, pale hand inched it’s way toward her before it fell back to his side. He sighed and rubbing his temple, as though harboring a headache.

“I have a room.” said Severus in a weary voice, “It’s nearby if you wish to… to _talk.”_

Lily blinked, “You inviting me up to your _room?”_

“Not like _that.”_ His face went red and she fought the overwhelming urge to giggle at this, “We… Lily, it’s dangerous. If the wrong person were to walk in and see us… I’d do what I could, but I… I’d be more comfortable speaking if we were out of public eye.”

“Where?”

“Across the street.”

“Fine.” She hopped up, extending her hand to him, who eyed it as though it were a kind of foreign object, “Let’s go to your _room,_ then.”

Lily grabbed her winter coat on, stopping still when she realized which scarf she had chosen to wear. She’d blindly grabbed it on her way to meet Remus — already _very_ late for their meeting. It was the one that Severus had given her for her fifteenth birthday, the last birthday present he had given her before their friendship had ended. Black silk shot through with silver and emeralds. He followed her gaze, slowly, from the scarf to her face, as if trying to make sense of what it meant.

“Lily?” Severus questioned, his eyes searching hers for an answer.

She took his hand and led him out of the bar, and out into the night.

* * *

This… was not what Severus had been expecting. All he’d wanted was a fucking drink, and now Lily Evans was climbing the stairs to his room with him.

_she’d held his hand_

“Why’re you staying here?” Lily asked as they strode down the hall, Severus searching his cloak for his key. “You have a house, don’t you?”

“You know as well as I that I hate that shithole.” He shoved the key into the hole, and threw the door opening, jerking his head at her to get inside. She hesitated for a moment, like she was just _now_ having second thoughts, but lifted her chin and strode inside.

Severus rolled his eyes and followed after her, locking the door behind him.

Lily stood in the center in the room, taking it in, Severus presumed, as he took off his cloak and dropped the keys on the table beside the door. It wasn’t much – a bed, a chest, a desk, two nightstands, and his own bathroom. The room smelt strongly of mothballs, but Severus didn’t care enough to complain to the staff. He was barely here.

Outside, it had begun to sleet steadily. He wouldn’t be surprised if it turned into a full blown blizzard by morning.

“How’s your mum?” Lily asked quietly, taking Severus completely off guard.

He blinked back. “I… fine, I suppose. I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh.” Her eyebrows pulled together. “Why’s that?”

“She went to live with a relative after I finished Hogwarts. She left me the house.”

Lily’s eyebrows hit her forehead. “She… just left?”

“She had told me she would stay until I finished school.” Severus said dryly. “There was no need for her to linger.”

She still looked troubled by this. “I’m… sorry.”

He snorted. “Don’t be.”

“Well, I am.” Lily looked away. “I can’t imagine if my mum had…”

Severus heard the breath hitch in her throat and felt his chest squeeze in sympathy – the kind he thought he’d lost long ago. The kind he was to have forgotten the day he’d taken the Dark Mark.

“I heard about the accident.” Severus said quietly. “I was… sorry to hear it.”

“Thanks.” She cleared her throat. “I heard your dad —”

“Let’s not bring him into this.”

“I know you never cared much for him, but it still must’ve —”

“He was a miserable bastard.” Severus waved her away. “He got what he deserved.”

Lily flinched at his callousness, and he wondered if she’d forgotten just how little he cared for anyone but her – no, she must have, because when she’d first looked back at him in the bar, her eyes had widened in fear and she’d tensed to bolt –

“I’m still sorry.” said Lily quietly. “I wanted to go to the funeral, but…”

“It would have been a waste of your time.” said Severus coldly. “It was certainly a waste of mine.”

He could see her response on the tip of her lips, the words whizzing into the air between them – _that’s a horrid thing to say, Severus, he’s your dad!_ Lily restrained herself, however, her reluctance clearly written all over her face. Her nose scrunched up, and blush in her cheeks deepened.

“I still would’ve liked to have been there for you.” Lily muttered, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

 _“Be_ there for me?” Severus scoffed. “For my fucking _father?_ He was a walking corpse, Lily. Save your pity.”

She went fuchsia. “It’s called being a good fr – _person,_ Severus.”

He barked a cold laugh. “Go ahead – say it.”

“Say _what?”_

Severus could feel the tension in the air as if he could reach out a touch it. _“Friend._ We haven’t been friends for years, Lily. Why should _you,_ of all people, care?”

She flinched, and he winced as a look of fresh hurt spread over her face. The green in her eyes was so dim that it looked like moss. Lily bit her lip and rubbed at her eyebrow – she’d used to pick at them when she’d been stressed at school. One day, she’d come down to the Great Hall with half of the right one missing before their first OWL exam.

“I’ve joined the Order.” Lily leveled her stare with his – she’d never been intimidated once they both became heated.

Severus inhaled deeply through his nose. “I know.”

“I _know_ you know.” Lily huffed, crossing her arms. “You saw me that night —”

 _“Don’t.”_ He snarled.

“– and you saved me.” She went on, ignoring him. “I came up here because I want you to tell me why.”

Severus had replayed that night in his head over and over until he’d made himself sick. He’d turned away from dueling some Order member he hadn’t recognized, the moonlight reflecting off of her scarlet hair catching his attention. When he’d realized it was Lily, a rage so strong and so vicious had overcome him – why was she _here,_ what the _fuck_ was Albus Dumbledore _thinking,_ putting her in a _battle –_

She would have volunteered, because this was Lily, and her life mattered little to her if others depended on it.

His heart had choked him, beating hard and fast in the center of his throat. There was a satisfied smirk on Lily’s face as she dueled another Death Eater – Severus could barely make out the mask, but quickly found that it was Reg. He’d shot a Stunner at the Order member, sending him crashing against the wall, when he caught Bellatrix creeping up behind Lily –

Severus’ heart roared and shredded itself and Lily waited for his answer.

“It matters not.” He whispered.

Lily stared back at him in blatant disbelief for a long moment, and then, she sharply exhaled. Her face went so white that the freckles on the bridge of her nose disappeared.

“It doesn’t _matter?”_ Lily fumed, her volume increasing with every word. “Doesn’t _MATTER?_ Stop being such a pill, Severus!”

“You don’t know anything about me!” Severus snarled back. “You don’t know why I do the things I do… you can’t _possibly –”_

“Really? Because there was a time when you said you thought I was the only one who ever could!”

“That was before you told me you never wanted to see me again.” _She remembered that she remembered._

“You became what was afraid of!” Lily cried, and the sound twisted his insides. “How could I continue to be your friend when you were going down a path I couldn’t follow? You… you called me –”

“You ended our friendship because you couldn’t _handle_ it.” Severus sneered, feeding into his pain, because that was all that Lily had left him, and it was useless. “But you could handle _Potter,_ with his simple life and kind words and galleons galore –”

“How _dare_ you!” Her voice made the hair stand up on his arms. “You don’t know anything _about_ James, or me, or our relationship, for that matter!”

“He asked you to marry him – I’d say I know just enough –”

“And I said _no,_ you ass!”

Lily had stood, her fists balled tightly at her sides. She didn’t seem to bother trying to hide the fact that she was trembling. Severus felt like he had just taken a Stunner to the chest.

“What? What are you – _why?”_ Severus asked, feeling extremely stupid, the way he always did where Lily was concerned. She possessed the extraordinary talent of catching him completely off guard at times.

Lily buried her face with her hands. “I… I don’t know.”

“You don’t… _know.”_

“How the hell did you even hear?” Lily gave him a one-eyed glare. “What… _who –”_

“Regulus.” Severus said flatly. “Black saw him briefly – mentioned it in passing.”

“Of course he did.” She muttered. Her face was buried in her hands, and Severus could tell she was crying.

Guilt crashed into him all at once, wrapping itself around his windpipe and squeezed. It shouldn’t have fucking mattered if Lily was still with Potter or not – she was right; they _hadn’t_ been friends for nearly two years now. He was such an idiot, bringing him up at all, when he himself was the hypocrite, a Death Eater, a servant to the Dark Lord, standing in a bedroom inn with Lily Evans, who was staring at him like she wanted Severus to break in two.

“Jesus, Severus…” Lily sighed, her breath hitching.

“My apologies.” He ducked his head, unable to meet her eyes. “I shouldn’t have… you’re right. It’s none of my business what you do with your life.”

She looked up, a look of puzzlement on her face. “You’re not… happy?”

Severus blinked. “Happy?”

“That I’m… not going to marry him. At least… not right now.” Lily wiped at her eyes. “I mean… Merlin, just look at me. I’m a wreck.”

“You’re clearly miserable without him.” He was incapable of keeping the bitterness out of his voice.

“I’ve been miserable for a lot longer than that.” Lily murmured. “I lost you… and then James... this bloody war…”

Severus took a cautious step away from the door, and towards her. “Lily…”

“I thought if you didn’t already,” said Lily. “that you’d hate me once I started dating James, and I did. I made myself believe that you _must_ , because you were one of _them,_ and I was with James, who you’d always despised. When you saved me all those months ago, it contradicted everything I made myself believe, and when James asked me to marry him I just… I couldn’t say yes, all of a sudden, even though I _wanted_ to, because everything is so _fucked –”_

A strange sense of dread was creeping over Severus; one he didn’t want to confront.

“I have never been your enemy.” He closed the gap in between them. “Surely you know that now… knowing what with happened with Bellatrix…”

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“But I did.” His voice felt rough, like sandpaper. “For you.”

“But why?” Lily shook her head.

“Because I have never _stopped_ being your friend.” Severus said in a very quiet voice.

“How was I supposed to know that?” She sounded like she was asking herself, not him. “You’re a _Death Eater,_ Severus… Merlin, you could bring me to You-Know-Who right now, and –”

“I’ve just _told_ you,” Severus snapped, his heart racing. “I wouldn’t… I _couldn’t—”_

“Yes, I know… I believe you.” Lily said softly. Her eyes were like freshly watered cloves.

His hands gone had completely numb, but the part of him that still clung to reality, to that cold, dark place where his feelings did not exist made him swallow the tightness clogging his throat.

“And why,” Severus asked in a razor sharp voice, trying to cut through Lily’s kaleidoscope face – filled with too many things he didn’t understand. “would you do that?”

It was Lily’s turn to look bewildered. Severus leaned against the table by the door, watching her on the bed as she battled with herself. She’d always been an open book, her thoughts so easy to read as they flashed across her face. He couldn’t understand many of them, understand why they were there, that she was here –

“I don’t think you’re mad…  and I don’t think you’re a psychopath.” Lily said slowly, and Severus’ world began blurring around the edges. “I also don’t think you’re a sick, twisted monster. I don’t think you’re a heartless murderer, and I don’t think you deserve to die, and I don’t think you’re pathetic. Or stupid. Or a coward. I don’t think you’re any of the things people have said about you… about what you must be because you’re a Death Eater.”  

“Why?” Severus whispered, an overwhelming feeling of panic flooding through him. He had to leave, this was… unfathomable and nonsensical and –

Lily looked straight at him, her gaze telling him to look back, and Severus had no choice but to obey. “Because I know you’re still in there – that _Sev_ is still somewhere, deep down. I could see him slipping away when we were in school, and it terrified me, because if _I_ couldn’t save him… I felt like a failure as a friend because of _that, not_ because I had to let you go.”

“You didn’t have to –”

“I did, Sev.” Lily stared at him with such sincerity that it made his skin feel raw, like he was being buried in the sleet outside.

“I’ve… never regretted something as much,” said Severus. “as that day.”

Lily visibly tensed. “Not even being a Death Eater?”

He had always known he was a man built to fall – that he wouldn’t be handed anything, like Potter. And after all the sorrows Severus had seen, in the few, measly months he’d been a Death Eater, they’d led him to believe that it wasn’t just he, but that _everything_ was in chaos. Lily had kept him grounded, and still, pathetically, he lived off the scraps of memories she’d left behind in her wake. Severus didn’t regret becoming a Death Eater, no, but he did not treasure or hold his position in esteem either. Nothing mattered, no matter how hard Severus tried to fill that void.

“I became a Death Eater,” He rasped. “because I was nothing after you.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’ll let your imaginations take over what happened from here on out. Ariel is still viewing, and Ariel is 12. The conversation doesn’t necessarily end, Severus has the emotionally capacity of a Tasmanian devil, and letting her view the rest isn’t… well, I’ll let you figure it out haha.
> 
> I realize this is a… controversial chapter, in many respects. I really battled with myself over putting it here, but please remember that everyone is open to how they interpret this. I think it was important to show what happened to create this AU, as it was for Ariel to see. After all, if you’re here this far, Ariel wouldn’t be here without this meeting.
> 
> The lil monologue Lily gave came from Tahereh Mafi.


	25. Silent Running

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just thought I'd put this at the forefront of the chapter, since this seems to be the Great Debate around this story thus far. 
> 
> Lily did N O T cheat on James. When James proposed, she panicked, and broke it off, and asked for time apart. She did not "run" to Snape -- that meeting was by chance, because they hadn't spoken since the Mudblood incident -- a result of old feelings on both ends. I've always found the idea that Lily might've had feelings for Snape and not realized it because she was so young interesting, and very workable. She didn't cheat on James, she had a one night stand while they were broken up. End of story. What happened after that will be talked about in GREAT detail, (James' reaction, why he married her, etc) in the distant future. I'm not shoving it under the rug -- I'm trying to take my time with it. 
> 
> If you consider Lily "trashy" for sleeping with two men, I don't know what else to say other than go find another story -- I'm not trying to shove Snily down anyones throat. These are the circumstances, and quite frankly, it's not the biggest focus right now. If you think it's fucked up Lily slept with a Death Eater, you obviously aren't a Snape fan, and probably won't like this story much, and that's completely fine. That's why it's FANFICTION. 
> 
> Alright -- rant over. Enjoy the chapter for today, and please, review!

Ariel didn’t know whether the blurriness was from her tears or the memory changing again, but the next thing Ariel knew she was standing over the Pensieve in her father’s quarters, her body vibrating like a live wire from the rush of emotions.

She leaned over the Pensieve, her vision fuzzy and mind reeling at the speed of light. It was all connecting together, pieces of a puzzle she hadn’t even realized was _there_ up until now. Why Dumbledore had separated her and Harry… why Severus had agreed to take her in the first place… why Severus seemed to have an aneurysm every time the name _Harry_ was even _remotely mentioned…_

Severus was watching her from the sofa, his face finer than marble and stiller than stone.

“Well,” Ariel took a gulp full of air. “that’s a start.”

She heard him stand and say something, though just barely, and then she promptly vomited onto the carpet, legs buckling out from underneath her.

She heard her father swear loudly before she felt a pair of hands pulling her hair from her face. Ariel continued to sick up, trying to stop herself, but she didn’t know which part of this storm was rendering her incoherent.

It was a whirlwind of emotion that varied from wonderment to downright hatred, from love so great her heart would surely burst in her chest any moment to paralyzing fear. There was so much… so many misconceptions about the people she’d loved and looked up to her entire life. It was like someone had told her that her life was a lie. Severus had known Lily, the woman seemingly _no one_ had really known anything about – he had known Ariel’s longing, how much she yearned and hungered for the crumbs of memories and stories as a child – he had _known_ and he hadn’t –

Severus had been her best friend… Severus had _loved her…_ he was her _father._

The voice whispering in the midst of the hurricane inside her mind whispered.

_He’d been a DEATH EATER –_

“Get off me!” Ariel forced out when her stomach had finally taken a break. Severus’ hand had come to rest on her abdomen, and she grabbed it and pushed it away, throwing herself off the ground to round on him.

Ariel studied him carefully, awaiting any kind of reaction that would let her know what Severus was thinking. It had been very clear since the start that he hadn’t wanted to show her any of this, but as to _why,_ she hadn’t a clue. Her father’s eyes were now alert and making her want to want to throw up all over again. He was watching her as closely as she was watching him, a different kind of silence hanging in the air between them.

“How _could you?”_ Ariel hissed, letting everything boil over.

Misery. That was the great sadness she had seen him wearing throughout the memories. It was written all over his face now, the blank mask long gone. He was being open with her for quite possibly the first time in Ariel’s life.

“To which part are you referring?” Severus asked quietly, all the homicidal fury that had been in his voice earlier no longer there. Not even a trace. 

“You… I… you all just...” Ariel was at a loss for words. She was overwhelmed, frightened, moved, and beyond angry. She didn’t know who to assign blame to first.

Her father sat patiently, as if he’d been _expecting_ her to be livid. Like somehow, he _knew_ that she was going to emerge from the Pensieve and not know where to fling her emotions, like he was ready to be the punching bag…

“Don’t _do_ that!” She shouted, wanting him to bellow right back at her. She needed something to grasp, something to distract her from the terrible truths she didn’t dare go after yet, “You don’t get to sit here all passive and act like you’re in control!”

Severus sighed wearily. “I am not trying to —”

“Yes, you are.” The tears in her eyes stung like icicles in the cold. “How _could_ you?”

He looked stricken, like he’d been struck to the ground, but his eyes were glittering. “It is… my greatest regret.”

“No,” She spat back viciously. “That should be _me,_ right? After all, your _lord_ was destroyed because you shagged a Muggleborn.”

Ariel didn’t realize what she said until she saw the shock on her father’s face morph into a roll of fury, so dark and so thick that it made some of her own evaporate into the air around them – like her fury was now feeding his.

“I will answer for my crimes,” Severus’ voice was barely audible, so fragile that Ariel could hear it splintering. “for the rest of my life – _with_ my life, if need be. Do you think I do all of this on a whim? That I hold my own life in little esteem, knowing that yours may depend on it?”

“Mum’s did.” Ariel whispered. “Mum was in danger… and you were… you were working with _Voldemort._ She _answered_ for what she believed in with her life – for Harry and I.”

Her father went very still, like he’d become a portrait, or a photograph, like the one of the boat on the mantle. Ariel had stopped thinking. Something inside her had gone.

She hated him in that moment. From the little boy hiding behind the bush to the young man that had shouted _Mudblood_ at her mother, to the young man that had told her mum he was a Death Eater, Ariel couldn’t contain the sense of betrayal. It felt a lot like being pierced in the throat, and his reluctance and uneasy silence was only making it worse.

Lily had been a Muggleborn. Which meant that in Voldemort’s eyes, she was a minority, a section of the population that shouldn’t have even existed… if Severus had loved her mum… he should have wanted Voldemort gone from the _start._ Not _join him –_

Why had Lily… why had she had Ariel, then? It was obvious her mum and dad had both had… a certain amount of feelings on both parts, whether Severus had realized that or not, but Ariel suddenly felt like she didn’t have a right to be here. She felt dirty and wrong and undeserving…

Ariel was vaguely aware of someone shaking her, someone calling her name. A name her father had given her, a name that hid a deeper, darker truth underneath…

She tried to get a hold of herself – if she kept overthinking everything, she was going to pass out. Focusing on the pressure on her arm, Ariel slowly forced herself to come back to reality. When she did, she found that Severus had her shoulder in a vise-like grip, his other hand raised to her forehead, like he was feeling for a fever.  

“Did you know Voldemort was coming for us?” Ariel asked, her breathing uneven. She tried to steady it, but everything was unstable, every felt unreal, like if she touched it, she’d stop breathing altogether.

He lowered his hand, his expression unreadable. “I did everything I could to protect her.”

“As a Death Eater.”

“The day she was targeted,” Severus said in a velvet soft voice. “I was a Death Eater no more.”

Her mind spun, and Ariel’s stomach heaved for a third time. He was right – he _was_ remorseful, because he had loved her mum and Dumbledore trusted him…but he’d been a Death Eater he’d been a Death Eater he’d –

“How could you keep all of this from me?” Ariel demanded, trying to get a handle on her temper to reignite it – she wasn’t ready to be done this soon. “I asked you… _so_ many times if you knew them… and you… you lied to me.”

“I wanted to shield you from it.” He said quietly.

“So _this_ was better?” Ariel bared her teeth. “Lying and singling Harry out… it was all to get back at _James!_ Didn’t he already pay for his mistakes? He _died…_ he died for us, and I wasn’t even _his…”_

He looked pained at this, “If you think _that_ mattered for a second –”

“You’re as bad as he was!” She shouted, “Worse, even, because Harry is eleven and you’re _not!_ What James did to you was…” Her stomach lurched, “it was vile and cruel, but shouldn’t you _know_ that better than anyone? To do it to Harry… _he_ doesn’t… he’s a good person!”

“He assumed I was the one after the Stone.” Severus’ face hardened back into that all too familiar scowl.

“Because he’s seen you threatening _Quirrell!”_

“Did he consider, just for a moment, that –”

“That it was _Quirrell?_ I _told_ him that, but he… he couldn’t possibly believe me.” Ariel glared wildly at him. “You haven’t given him a reason to think you’re protecting it! Quirrell is afraid of his own shadow and _you’ve_ been acting like the biggest git to walk the planet!”

“It is _none_ of his _business!”_ Severus sneered.

“Fine.” She said coldly, “Then if you want to treat him like that, because of a dead man’s mistakes, then I don’t want to know you. You shouldn’t have shown me the memories, because I don’t want them.”

“You _asked_ for them.” Anger was creeping into his voice and Ariel welcomed it. Anger she could deal with. Not this… pain… not when there was already so much of it…

“You can’t admit that you’re blinded by hatred… that you’re wrong for hating my brother.”

Severus’ teeth snapped together audibly. His face flashed, like the words being spoken aloud were a whip being brandished.

“So basically,” Ariel’s eyes stung, but she willed her voice to be strong. “your hatred for him is stronger than your feelings for her. Or for me.”

Severus’ hands spasmed. In the same breath, he was motionless and then he was walking towards her –

“No!” Ariel backed away, holding her hands in front of her to keep him away.

His hand caught her shoulder roughly, holding her in place, though the precision of his gaze could have done that itself. It wasn’t cold like his eyes usually were when they were angry, but like burning coals that singed the air around them as he bent down. Ariel swallowed loudly, her voice lost to her, and when Severus spoke, his tone was like liquid nitrogen.

“I couldn’t lose you the way I lost her.” He sounded like he was chewing on nails.

Ariel stilled at this, trying to deepen her breathing and clear her head. It was still very full, like the wisps of smoke and color inside the Pensieve were now trapped inside her head. Wide eyes blinked back at him, a vise pressing the walls of her throat together. She couldn’t breath.

“I… I want to go.” Ariel stammered, looking around wildly for an escape, “I can’t do this right now… I… I need to…”

Her father’s head bowed so that she could no longer see his face.

“It’s late.” His voice was like gravel on bare feet. “I would rather you stay here tonight, especially regarding the situation with the Stone…”

Ariel shook her head, ready to bolt towards the door, which suddenly seemed like it was miles and miles away.

“You’re not well enough to return to the Tower.” Her father said in a more serious tone – final.   

“What, afraid I’ll tell the entire school, then?” Her laugh was void of any humor.

“My sole concern is _you.”_ Severus’ hardened, but something had been chiseled off. “You’re not walking the halls alone at this hour… and I’d like to discuss this tomorrow, again, when you’ve had time to think.”

Ariel’s stomach dropped to her feet. For a moment, she was afraid she was going to be sick all over again.

“There’s nothing more to talk about.” She whispered, desperate to get away, get out, get as far away from everything as humanly possible.

“You’re confused.” Severus almost sounded like he was trying to convince himself. “And I want to make sure that… you _understand_ certain things before you leave. I can’t give you half truths without you learning the rest.”

“So what? You’re just going to keep me prisoner?” Her voice wobbled under the weight of her emotions.

“Go to bed.” He said, his voice gentler, “We can talk again in the morning.”

 _“Fine.”_ Ariel hissed, tearing herself away from him and racing for her room.

She saw her father’s hand curl away from where he’d just had it and close his eyes before she slammed the door shut.

Ariel cried for a long time after that, soaking her pillow to the point where she thought if she wrung it out, it may actually drip onto the floor. She didn’t care if she was being loud or if Severus heard her or if the hour was insanely late. She needed _something_ to relieve all the pain, all the heartache and longing and betrayal that burned in her chest and sobbing her heart out seemed to be the only way.

The tears, it seemed, were not a never ending supply, and so after what appeared to be hours, Ariel finally lifted her head and leaned her cheek into the pillow, curling her arms around herself. She felt… lighter, like she was floating. Or perhaps that was because she was still dizzy. Either way, she felt a bit better, or at least, physically, she did.

The picture of her family next to her bed was watching her, the smiles gone from their usually cheery faces. Instead, her mother and father… _James…_ were gazing up at her imploringly, concern plainly written on their faces. The babies in their arms had even sobered.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Ariel muttered, placing the frame face down as their mouths opened in _o’s_ of surprise and hurt.

Ariel rubbed her eyes and glanced at her clock. It was almost two in the morning now. She wondered if Severus was still awake. Probably.

Something hideous and terrible slithered into her mind, but Ariel shook it away.

Exhausted and eager to escape reality, sleep took over, where more troubling thoughts ruled.

* * *

Firewhiskey was what Severus wanted, but not what he needed. The last time he’d drank in order to relieve himself on pain, it had ended in a hangover and his world shattering.

Her shattering made his own feel like it had nothing more than a scratch on his soul.

Severus had heard her crying as he sat on the sofa, not moving a single muscle as he listened. He knew he should retire to his own chambers, leave the girl to come to terms with everything, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He wished he could go in and sit with her, but knew it would only make things worse.

She’d watched him call her mother a Mudblood.

But she hadn’t mentioned it. She’d only mentioned the rivalry with Potter, his days as a Death Eater. And the boy. Always the boy.

Severus simply had to wait until Ariel collected herself, but as each second dragged by, he only grew more anxious. He hated himself even more. He regretted his decision to show her at all. Would it have been better for her to hate him for things she didn’t know than for her to hate him for the truth?

If she could somehow forgive and accept what he had done to her mother, not even the lightest part of him dreamed that she could accept his sins as a Death Eater. As a man who had indirectly led to her mother’s death…

No, she would never learn that part. It would destroy her.

It was surely kill him.

She would surely kill him. 

* * *

Ariel shot up like a bullet, immediately falling out of bed and onto her elbow, _hard._

She should have asked for Dreamless Sleep. It was foolish of her to think that sleep would let her leave behind her life, even if it was brief. Her dreams had been filled with cold laughter and snarls as she ran, trying to get to her mum, but Severus and James were holding her back –

Ariel froze, burying her face in the crook of her elbow in order to stifle her sobs. How was she _still_ crying? Didn’t the human body have a limit or something?

_Well, it’s the mere fact that he exists, if you know what I mean_

Tears stung at her eyes and she wiped away furiously, raucous laughter bouncing around in her head. Somehow, the actual memory itself had been worse than her nightmare. How could her mother have turned her back on Severus… when he was being _humiliated?_ Surely Lily had known he hadn’t meant it, had regretted the words once they’d left his mouth? Hadn’t she seen his _face?_

_... and I’d wash my pants if I were you, Snivellus_

_Snivellus_

If she heard that name again, she was going to strangle someone and make sure the body was never found.

She glanced up at the clock. Four in the morning. Bloody _wonderful._

Ariel couldn’t take it anymore. The crumbling face had been seared into her mind. No one, no matter how furious she was with her father, deserved that.

She crawled from her spot on the floor, wincing at the throbbing pain in her elbow, and crept towards the door. Turning the knob so that door the opened silently, Ariel peeked out, finding that Severus was in the same exact spot he’d been earlier on the sofa in front of the fireplace. He turned to look at her, his face worn and angry, but Ariel could already tell it wasn’t with her. His lips seemed to have tightened into a permanent frown.

Neither of them said anything for a long, long time. They simply stared, searching each other’s eyes something neither of them had.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Ariel finally broke through the quiet, feeling as though she might lose her mind if he didn’t speak soon. She was still shaking quite a bit and could feel a dampness running down her cheeks.

Her father sighed, his eyes never leaving her face, “I didn’t want you to carry around the burden of proof.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Burden? You think me knowing the truth would be a _burden?”_

Severus grimaced, “To you, yes.”

“When?” Ariel raised an eyebrow. “When did you find out? Did Mum tell you?”

“No – a week after your mother was killed, I was told.” He rubbed his face tiredly, “Professor Dumbledore tried to coerce me. I refused initially, and when I went to go and force your aunt to take you, _she_ told me.”

“The Headmaster… he _knows?_ Aunt Petunia – Merlin, who _else?”_

Severus’ face darkened, his eyes raising themselves to stare at the fire. “I don’t know who Lily did and didn’t tell, but I know that she did speak to Professor Dumbledore about the matter, and your aunt, when she first realized she was with child.”

“So that’s why you got me?” Ariel asked, crossing her arms. “Because he knew I was yours? But why… why wouldn’t mum have told you?”

Severus looked back up at her, his eyes burning a hole through her heart with the emotion they held in them. She averted her gaze and tried to ignore the knowing feeling the bubbled up inside her, just like the one she had felt when she began to realize that Severus had loved Lily, but encasing an entirely different, darker, sensation. People who loved each other didn’t become Death Eaters and lie and bully little brothers.

“How do you feel?” Her father asked instead, looking her up and down, “I heard you fall out of bed.”

She wondered why he hadn’t come in to check on her – and why he wouldn’t answer her question.

“I’m trying really hard not to hit you and run out the door.” Ariel replied sardonically.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “I was speaking in terms of your emotional state.”

Ariel rubbed her shoulders in an attempt to get herself to stop shaking, “I… things make _sense_ now… but not really.”

Severus nodded, “I expected as much.”

She hesitated, voices and lines from the memories floating around in her head. They threw themselves at her, each begging and vying for her attention, but one in particular stuck out like an ugly visage and made her stomach turn violently.

“Ariel?” Her father called her back, worried and wary.

For a moment, nothing else mattered, because even though there were still a great many things that were a mystery, she knew why Severus had done the things he had. She knew why when he looked at Harry, he looked like he was looking at something in one of those potion’s jars in his classroom. She knew why he’d ask her brother those ridiculous questions, why he’d been so displeased when he’d been Sorted into Slytherin. It wasn’t so much _Harry –_ it was _James._

And, even though it still pained Ariel to think about, she understood why he’d joined Voldemort. He’d told her mum in the memory – he’d nowhere else to go, and Lily had understood that, so maybe she should too…

But for now, her heartache only crescendoed as James Potter’s words rang in her ears, and Ariel fell onto the sofa beside her father and buried her face in his chest.

“You didn’t deserve what they did to you.” She said fiercely, willing the words to be as strong as her belief in them. “You weren’t a waste of space.”

She heard him let out a breath, something ragged in it that made her burrow closer and wrap her arms around his chest tightly. All Ariel could see was the gangly, thin boy reaching for his wand… choking and gasping as suds flew from his mouth involuntarily…

Her father’s arms slowly wrapped around her in return, one arm pulling her into his lap once more, the other around her chest. He was holding her so tightly that it almost hurt, but it was in a good way, one that almost made her feel whole again.

“She shouldn’t have said that to you.” Ariel continued, her voice thick, “Mum should have forgiven you… especially after she called you that… that _disgusting_ name…”

“No.” Severus murmured back, “She had every right. I called her something far worse.”

“She was cruel.” She leaned her cheek against the wool, “You didn’t mean it. I saw your face.”

“Your mother was anything but cruel.” His voice sharpened, took a defensive edge to it.

“How could she have… Dad, I mean James, he was _revolting…”_

“Yes.” There was undisguised bitterness in his voice, “But what I did to her… I didn’t deserve forgiveness. That memory was… the worst of it.”

“And you still… you kept…” Ariel looked up at him through a new pair of eyes, wonderment shining in them, “You never stopped caring.”

Severus didn’t answer her.

“You’re my dad.” She grabbed his arm. “All these years, and you never told me the truth.”

He sighed heavily. “I wanted to preserve what little of your mother you had… of Potter, even. You used to stay up late every night and talk to their picture, and the thought of shattering that for you was… I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I knew I would have to tell you eventually, even if I didn’t want to.”

“You… didn’t want me to know?”

“I did,” Severus murmured. “after a while, anyway. As you got older I… thought it would be best if you never found out, but after last year, I recognized that not telling you at all wasn’t possible.”

“It would’ve… made sense if you’d told me.” Ariel looked down at her hands in her lap. “I thought you couldn’t stand me as a kid.”

She heard him inhaled sharply. “That’s… not true –”

“I know that now.” Ariel said quietly. “But you acted like it.”

Severus looked stricken. “Is that why you asked me what you did last year?”

Ariel recalled that night, when the first round of lies had revealed themselves, and even with Harry finally beside her, she’d never felt more alone. The kingdom of childhood had come crumbling to the ground, and all that year, Severus had been cold and strict about her visiting him. He’d been like that as she’d grown, the happier memories fading off in the distant as he moved farther away.

“You were so private about everything.” Ariel tucked her knees under her chin and glared into the fire. “That night I saw you with the picture of mum, I was so shocked… and then I started to think about it. And… I guess… I never realized it until now… but I thought, deep down, that you must’ve resented me because she died –”

She could tell he’d stopped breathing, because the rhythm of his chest had stopped. Ariel let her head rest against it for another moment, but when he kept still, she finally looked up at him.

Severus was clenching and unclenching his jaw, his eyes closed. The arms around her had tightened to the point of discomfort. Ariel could sense his… whatever it was, that Severus felt, when she said things from the heart. It was never something she’d felt comfortable doing, because of the way he reacted. It frightened her.

“I told myself many years ago I would let you go,” Severus finally said, his voice didn’t have a bottom. “when you began Hogwarts. It wasn’t until it was time that I understood that I lacked the strength to do that. I believed that perhaps… if I put some distance between you and I as you got older, that it would make it easier.”

Her breathing hitched. _“That’s_ why you acted all weird at the beginning of last year? You were trying to push me away?”

“You deserved better.” Severus touched her cheek with the tips of his fingers. “Don’t you see that, child?”

Ariel shook her head, fighting back the tears that were inevitably about to spill over. “I don’t. Harry does… you do… but I haven’t done anything to deserve – what I mean is –”

“You deserve a father who isn’t a Death Eater.” Severus said to the top of her head. His voice was silky smooth, and she could tell he was Occluding again. “There will come a time, child, when I can’t be by your side every step of the way. I won’t lie to you… in the way that adults lie to children now. The Headmaster believes that one day, the Dark Lord will return, and when he does, I’ll have to be by his side.”

Ariel went very still – her hands are feet went numb. “What… what do you mean, _by his side?”_

“I was looking for something only your mother had ever given me, when I become a Death Eater.” Severus was faraway now, in another part of the castle, in another world. “I realized soon after that I had made a mistake… that the others in Slytherin had been wrong about the Dark Lord. When the he revealed it was you and your brother he sought, I knew Lily’s life was in danger, and so I went to the Headmaster and told him. I begged him to protect you all, to hide you away where he would never find you, and in return, I pledged to spy for the Light instead…”

The room was spinning. Her lungs were slowly starting to make their way up her throat.

“When your mother died, I made promise, to Lily, and to Dumbledore, that I would protect you and Potter, in honor of her sacrifice, that I would continue to spy when the Dark Lord returned. That’s why we’ve had to keep the closeness of our relationship a secret. If he were to find out… the Light would lose their spy.”

Those words were just reaching her ears, but she was already flying through the dungeons, clawing to the surface.

Screaming from the top of her rock was the least of her issues.

* * *

Harry had been staring at the door for fifteen minutes now, wondering what the hell he was doing. He must have been suicidal to be considering this.

The door wasn’t opening of its own accord, which meant that Harry was going to have to knock on it. Which meant he was going to have to see Snape. Which _meant_ he was probably going to die.

Hermione had said Ariel hadn’t returned to Gryffindor Tower last night or this morning, which meant that she had to still be with Snape. And since Harry didn’t trust the git for two seconds, he’d resolved that he’d have to go and make sure she was alright.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t completely and utterly terrified. Snape was trying to steal the _Stone,_ and if Ariel had told him they were suspicious…

Could doors bite? Harry supposed that if someone could Charm a door to do that, Snape would be the one person he could think of to actually do so.

“Harry?” A voice called suddenly, making him jump out of his shoes.

He spun around to find Damon looking at him with a strange look on his face.

“Harry?” Damon asked again frowning, “What in Merlin’s name are you doing?”

“I’m looking for my sister…” He gestured to the door, “She was… she went to go and talk to Snape last night…”

“And what? You think he’s turned her into potion ingredients?”

“I think it’s weird that she hasn’t been seen all morning. Hermione and Ron said she didn’t come back last night…” 

“She went to talk to Snape?” Damon’s eyebrows hit his forehead in surprise. _“Willingly?”_

“Not really,” Harry waved him off, “she wanted to ask him something, but no one’s seen her since…”

“That’s because she’s at her rock.” Damon rolled his eyes.

Harry blinked, “Her _rock?”_

“Yeah,” He smirked, “she has this great bloody boulder in the Forest that she sits on when she’s trying to think. She’s been there all morning.”

“Did she say why she didn’t go back to her room last night?” Harry asked, already making his way past Damon.

“No… I think she wanted to be alone. She looked upset.”

He screeched to a half and whipped around, “What? Why?”

“I don’t know. She acted as if she hadn’t seen me. I tried to go after her, but Snape stopped me…”

“Wait – stop. _Snape?_ They were together?”

“No… it looked like he was following her.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why would he be doing that?”

“I don’t know.” Damon shrugged. “It’s normal for Snape to follow her – well, okay, as normal as _Snape’s_ normal gets. He told me to get lost.”

“He did?” Harry glared at the unopened door, “Did _he_ say why?”

“No.” Damon was starting to look annoyed, “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

He stifled the urge to roll his eyes. He’d like the same question answered himself.

“I’ll tell you later.” Harry turned before Damon could object, setting off in search of Hermione in order to figure out where his sister’s rock might be.

* * *

She’d been wandering the halls and grounds for hours.

It was a wonder Ariel hadn’t bumped into someone she knew by now, but it seemed that the powers that be might just be looking out for her today. Besides, it was dreadfully cold out, meaning that now that Christmas was over, most of the students were spending their time in their dormitories trying to stay warm. There was also the fact that Fate seemed to have decided to dump all of its deadweight onto _her,_ but that was another issue entirely.

She thanked Merlin that Harry hadn’t found her. She had seen him coming back from her rock earlier this morning from a window at the top of the Astronomy Tower, looking ruffled and worried, but if he saw her now, it would only make things worse.

Ariel wasn’t even going to breach the subject of whether or not she would tell Harry the truth. That was a different can of worms and the thought made her want to throw herself from the top of the bloody school.

Screaming and shouting and Cursing tree branches, it seemed, worked wonders. It certainly had kept her from vomiting again. And crying. And curling into a ball for the rest of eternity.

People who loved one another definitely didn’t become Death Eaters. Maybe in a world where Lily Evans had been a Pureblood, or hell, maybe even a Halfblood. But she had been a _Muggleborn._ And Severus was going to go back – go back, like he wouldn’t be killed the second Voldemort saw him. How _could_ he?  

But then again, how could James have been such a cruel bully? How could he have singled her father out like that… humiliated him in front of the entire school? James couldn’t have been like that as an adult, or he wouldn’t have fought alongside Dumbledore.

How could her mother have not forgiven Severus? The thought that maybe… if she _had,_ maybe he wouldn’t have joined the Death Eaters… maybe she wouldn’t have been an accident…

In the same stride, how could Severus have joined the murdering psychopath that had taken away her family? She knew Severus could be dark and twisty, but nothing like _that._ Death Eaters were sadists, murderers, rapists, kidnappers…

She was so sick of the _how could’s._

Her father was none of those things, Ariel knew that. That was why it didn’t make sense. He could be cruel, yes, but there had been _reasoning_ behind it. She could see now why he had treated Harry the way he had. Voldemort hadn’t a reason in the world, only mad ideals that could never truly be achieved. 

Voldemort had murdered her mother, Severus had loved her mother, Ariel was Severus’ daughter, and he had been a Death Eater.

And James was somewhere in between.

For Merlin’s sake, when had things become so needlessly _complicated?_ Ariel wondered if Hermione had a book about how to cope with finding out your adoptive father was your _real_ father who was _really_ a Death Eater.

She was heading up to the Owlry now, which reeked of owl droppings and such, but the view took her mind of of things for a couple of minutes as she looked over the horizon. A familiar hooting caught her attention, and as she turned, Hedwig landed on her shoulder.

“Hey, girl.” Ariel sighed as Hedwig nibbled at her ear, “Don’t tell Harry where I’m at, alright? I’m counting on you.”

She chirped sadly and flew up to a higher perch as Ariel sighed, wishing she could grow wings and fly away for a while. She felt guilty that she was avoiding Harry, but had no clue how in Merlin’s name she could talk to him after this. He’d be crushed if she told her… just one more thing to widen the gap between them…

The smell was beginning to get to her, and so Ariel began to descend the winding staircase, setting out for another round of thinking-time at her rock. She was quite sure she hadn’t targeted _all_ the trees nearby quite yet. She’d actually accidently Hexed a squirrel by accident before she resigned herself to walking around a bit in order to cool off.

She whipped around a corner, mumbling under the breath about all three of her parents, running straight into someone, but not feeling the impact.

Ariel let him a shriek, raising her hands in front of her face as something passed through her. When she felt nothing, she spun around, leaning against the wall to glare at the perpetrator.

“Nick!” Ariel wheezed, holding her stomach, “You gave me a fright!”

“Sorry!” He gave her a ghostly grin, “I’ve never been good at this sort of thing. It’s quite easy to forget you’re dead sometimes, you know.”

“Right.” She stifled the urge to roll her eyes, “Is there something you wanted?”

“There is, actually.” Nick looked uncomfortable now, floating midair nervously.

Her eyes narrowed, “Are you here on Professor Snape’s behalf? Did he ask you to find me? Because if that’s the case, you can tell him he can —”

“No!” He shook his see-through head, “Well, yes, I suppose I am, in a manner of speaking, but Professor Snape has no clue that I’m here. In fact, I’m quite certain he doesn’t know that I know what I’m about to tell you.”

Ariel raised a disbelieving eyebrow, “What could you possibly know that he doesn’t?”

“Oh, the ghosts here know plenty you all don’t know about.” Nick said lightly, giving her a small smile. “We have access to everywhere in the castle. Of course, we can’t tell just anyone anything the Headmaster doesn’t want us to, but we have liberty to every inch of Hogwarts.”

She blinked, “I don’t see how this is relevant to me. Or Professor Snape.”

“I er… I may have overheard a fraction of the conversation you had with him this morning.”

Ariel stared back at him, jaw dropping incredulously, _“Nick!”_

“Now, now, there’s no need to worry.” He assured her quickly, holding up a misty hand, “I cannot disclose any of this information, remember? But I _can_ discuss it with those it pertains to –”

 _“Nick,_ if he knew you knew any of this, he’d have you exorcised.”

He rolled his eyes, “I’d like to see him try. But… that is besides the point.”

Ariel waited patiently, not exactly knowing how to breach something like this with someone who wasn’t her father. Or a not-living person, for that matter.

“I was there the night he Vowed to protect you and Harry.” Nick sighed, looking saddened by this. “It was a day or so after your mother and James died… after he spoke to the Headmaster.”

“Nick…” She cut him off, that petrifying cold teasing at her skin, “Listen, it’s not that I don’t appreciate it, but right now I –”

“My dear girl, you really don’t understand.” Nick cut in, “Your father was… please, don’t misconstrue my words, joining You-Know-Who is inexcusable, but if you don’t think that he doesn’t pay for his mistakes every single day, you are quite mistaken. I heard him that night… heard him yelling for hours. It sounded like what one might imagine Hell to sound like, if such a place exists.”

Her hands and arms had lost all feeling.

“I didn’t think anyone could come back from what Professor Snape suffered through.” Nick had softened his voice, sighing, “But then Headmaster Dumbledore brought you here and he seemed to… I don’t remember seeing him as content as he is with you, even when your mother was alive. So, if I may, do go easy on the poor bloke. He’s already paid for his sins.”

And then he disappeared, leaving her alone in the corridor.

Ariel fell against the wall and buried her face in her hands. For a moment, she wondered what her mother would tell her, but she would never know, because her mum was dead.

* * *

“She knows.”

The words were hollow and emotionless, but Severus had learned long ago that it was best they were that when when it came to addressing Albus Dumbledore.

A silvery eyebrow arched in surprise, “By your doing, Severus? Or did she draw conclusions?”

He let the silence answer that question, earning himself another eyebrow inching its way up the elderly Headmaster’s forehead, “I see. Everything?”

Severus sighed and nodded, thoroughly drained. He hadn’t slept all night and had been checking on the girl all day, Disillusioned, of course. It seemed she’d just been wandering the school, not speaking to anyone. Malfoy had nearly gone after her at one point, just as breakfast had begun, but Severus had put a swift stop to _that._

He wondered what she was thinking.

“How did she react?” Dumbledore, leaning forward intently.

“How do you _think?”_ Severus snapped, “She’s just found out that she’s not the darling of the prince of Gryffindor himself. She’s…” He trailed off, biting back the rejection that made him see flashes of red.

“I highly doubt that matters to Ariel, Severus.” Dumbledore frowned, blue eyes glistening in that pitiful kind of way that made him want to smash something, “I can only imagine how torn the poor girl must be feeling.”

_“Torn?”_

“She’s just lost her father.” He sighed, opening his palms, “Maybe both, in her mind. I’m sure finding out about where your allegiances once laid has left her quite shaken. She needs time to come to terms with it.”

“You think it was the right thing to do?” Severus raised an eyebrow back at him, suspicious that the old man hadn’t reprimanded him for this.

“I think you did what you needed in order to explain your actions. Am I correct in assuming you did so because of your demeanor towards the boy? She asked for an explanation?”

“I may have let a comment about Potter slip.”

“I see.”

He hated how guilty the old codger could make him feel but saying barely anything at all. As if he needed _more_ eating away at his conscious.

“They say that eyes are windows to the soul.” Dumbledore said to him, inclining his head meaningfully, “If I may, I was quite surprised you didn’t connect the dots when you first saw the child.”

“She looks like Lily.” Severus replied automatically.

“But she has _your_ eyes.” The old man gave him a knowing smirk as all traces of agitation drained from Severus’ face, “I’m sure that’s the first thing you noticed when you made your discovery back in March, yes?”

He remembered the painfully blatant realization, how ignorant he had made himself, the gut-wrenching _guilt…_

Severus gave him another nod, letting a black curtain of hair cover his face.

Dumbledore surprised him by giving a small chuckle, “Ariel is just like you, Severus. She hides her feelings until she can’t anymore, but loves unconditionally. Surely you know that.”

He closed his eyes and tried with all his might to ignore the hot brand moving down his throat at those words. Love wasn’t something he deserved. Not then, and especially not now. How _could_ she, after everything he had done?

“If she forgives me,” Severus said in a rough voice, “she is an abysmally foolish girl.”

“Ariel is _your_ child, Severus.” Dumbledore said in serious voice, “All the goodness you don’t allow the world to see lives on through her. She may look like Lily, but ever since she was old enough to talk, I have heard only you.”

“Don’t compare her to me.” He forced out through gritted teeth, “I am… she is kind and good and as pure as her mother was.”

“And is your love for Lily not as pure?” The Headmaster asked gently, “Ariel will love you no matter what, just as you did Lily.”

Before he could remind him that _he_ had gotten Lily killed, Dumbledore stood and walked over to a chest lined with bottles and other baubles filled with things Severus couldn’t even begin to fathom, and plucked a vial from the top shelf.

“This is for you,” He held it out to him, pale blue eyes piercing.

“What is it?” Severus eyed it warily.

“A memory Lily left for you. She asked me to give it to you when you were ready.”

Severus still didn’t take it. Memories had caused him enough grief already.

“I would accept it, I were you.” Dumbledore said, a twinkle gleaming in his eyes, “Sometimes, even the simplest things can illuminate more than we think.”

He willed his glare to smash it to smithereens, but something inside him tugged away and he held out his hand, letting the Headmaster fold his fingers back over it. He let his withering hand linger, and then let it fall back to his side and nodded at him.

He didn’t do anything with it when he returned to his quarters for the evening. Severus placed it on the table, where the Pensieve still sat from last night, and stared at it.

Lily had left him a memory. Not a letter, explaining herself, or a will or even a verbal message she hadn’t been able to tell him herself, but a _memory._

Severus hated feeling nervous. It made him feel vulnerable and weak, but then again, Lily had always been his Achilles heel.

He took a deep breath and leaned into the Pensieve.

The setting molded before him, folding into one that he recognized at once – St. Mungo’s.

The light was harsher than usually, and the room so white that it only added to the intensity. A single bed with two nightstands next to it, and someone sitting up in the bed with a bundle in their arms. But the setting mattered little, because it was obvious that the memory was focused on something far more important.

It was Lily, Severus realized with a jolt, and the baby wrapped in a pink blanket was _Ariel._

“Do you need anything?” A voice that made the hair on the back of Severus’ neck stand up, “James said you needed some time along with the baby, but I thought it better to ask you yourself. You know how thoughtless he can be sometimes…”

Severus’ lip curled as he peered over his shoulder at the doorway. Just as he suspected, the werewolf was standing there, looking clueless and stupid, as he always had when presented with a dilemma.

Lily smiled tiredly and he fought the urge to snap at the wolf to get the flying fuck out and looked like a moron, “I’m fine, Remus. Go and get some rest.”

Lupin rolled his eyes, “You’ve just had a baby, and _I’m_ the one who needs to be taken care of?”

 _“Go.”_ Lily commanded mockingly, green eyes immediately flashing as the babe in her arms let out a cry.

The wolf left, then, leaving Lily alone with the newborn and Severus. Something heavy was hanging in his chest, pressing against his airway, but somehow he willed his legs to move and took several steps towards mother and child. Potter was nowhere to be found, and for that, Severus was more than grateful.

Lily shushed her as Ariel began to cry, bouncing her in her arms, “Hush, love. You’re alright. Mummy’s here.”

Severus watched silently, relishing the sound of her voice. He’d forgotten how warm it could make him feel, even if she wasn’t speaking to him at all. 

“Your Daddy named you, you know.” Lily murmured, rocking as the child quieted, “It’s a damn good thing you weren’t a boy.”

Severus snorted, sitting at the edge of them bed. He couldn’t tear his eyes from the sight, wanting more than anything to reach out and touch them.

“I wish he could be here too.” She whispered, nuzzling the baby’s head with her nose, “I think he’d be glad to meet you. You’d scare the hell out of him, but I think he’d warm up to the idea after a while.”

“I couldn’t have, even I wanted to.” Severus said, looking down at his hands in shame. It would have been far too dangerous, and even though Lily had kept away one damning truth, Severus’ own had led to her destruction anyway.

“Maybe someday.” Lily smirked as a tiny fists reached upwards, “I’m not saying no, okay? No need to object so much. I’m on your side here.”

And then the child opened her eyes, gurgling a content sound as Lily blinked back tears.

“You have your father’s eyes.” She whispered, “You know that?”

The memory faded, leaving Severus sitting alone in his quarters once again as the remnants of her world swirled in the Pensieve.

He put the picture back up on the mantle.


	26. Hide and Seek

Ariel was missing.

Harry immediately suspected Snape when he’d come back from the rock Damon had told him of and Hermione had suggested he not intrude on without his sister. Ron hadn’t thought anything of the situation, stating that she knew the castle far better than they knew it themselves and had probably holed up somewhere. Harry, in any other case, would have agreed, but it had been  _ hours.  _ Ariel had never gone missing for so long, and certainly not without letting Harry know where she was.

He hadn’t told Hermione or Ron or even Damon that he’d begun to suspect Snape of wanting the Stone for himself. Hermione had pointed out the unusual nature of Snape’s path on Halloween, but Harry was quite sure that the day she ever started to suspect a teacher of being dishonest or doing anything other than their jobs was the day that Snape started handing out sweets.

That didn’t mean, however, that Harry was convinced Snape would  _ hurt  _ Ariel. He’d heard enough his first night at Hogwarts, with his sister, back in March, and unless Snape was the greatest con-artist to walk the Earth, it was clear that he cared about Ariel a great deal. But the fact that Ariel had gone to see him and now Harry hadn’t seen her for nearly twenty-four hours was unsettling.

He wasn’t used to being the search party –  usually that was Ariel’s job. Harry didn’t know where else to go except for Snape, and since she was  _ missing… _

“Still no sign of her?” Damon asked, beginning to look as worried as Harry felt when he walked into the Slytherin common room later that night.

Harry shook his head and fell onto the couch. He was exhausted, but something was still tugging at him to get up and keep looking, even though he’d looked everywhere he could possibly think of.

(Except for Snape’s quarters)

The lead ball in his stomach squeezed his insides into a scrambled mess.

“Snape hasn’t seen her either?” Damon’s eyebrows pinched together in deep thought, like he’d read Harry’s mind, “If he says he hasn’t he’s either lying… or –”

“I haven’t talked to him.” Harry sighed, the very thought making the lead jump up to his throat.

Damon looked up at him unhappily, “If anyone knows where Ariel is, it’s going to be him.”

“She hasn’t spoken to him in months!” Harry argued, “How’d he know?”

“Because he knows her  _ and  _ the castle better than anyone.” Damon pointed out.

“And you think  _ I  _ should waltz into his office at this hour and ask where she is?” Harry snorted, “I might as well let Hagrid feed me to one of his pets in the Forest.”

“Hagrid has pets in the Forest?”

“Not the point.” Harry leaned back into the couch, “The point is that Snape won’t tell me if I ask. If anything, he’ll make things  _ worse.” _

“And what if he doesn’t know either?” Damon asked, raising an eyebrow at him, “What if something happened to her and Snape doesn’t think to look because she’s been avoiding him for months?”

Dammit. He was right.

“So what? I walk into his quarters and become a potion ingredient for when term resumes?” Harry shuddered.

“No,” Damon leaned back in his seat, “you walk in there and make it know you’re worried. What’s he going to do, give you detention because you’re  _ nosy?” _

“Yes.” Harry said quickly, “That’s exactly what he’d do.”

“Ariel will murder him if he does that, if and when she resurfaces…”

“That’ll just make the problem  _ worse.”  _ Harry groaned, “Can’t you do it?”

Damon laughed loudly, gaining the attention of several other students who’d utilized the unusually quiet common room. “No way.” He shook his head, “If there’s anyone Snape hates more than you, it’s me.”

“But he hasn’t bothered you this year!”

_ “Yet.”  _ Damon gave him a pointed look, “He hasn’t exactly done anything to you either since your Flying lesson either.”

“He’s probably lying in wait.” Harry muttered, “And I’ll be walking right into a trap. Talk about a great Christmas present for him.”

“Your sister was willing to go to war with him over you. The least you can do is make sure something hasn’t happened to her.”

Harry knew he meant well, but Damon’s words made that creeping, simmering sense of guilt make his stomach churn. He knew what he had said to Ariel about Snape being after the Stone upset her, especially since she hadn’t spoken to the man in months over the fact that he’d been nasty to Harry, but to willingly approach Snape was something different entirely.

“Fine.” Harry huffed, throwing himself off the couch and glaring at Damon, “I’ll go. But if you find yourself using my eyeballs in a potion when term starts again, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Damon rolled his eyes, “Bring that Cloak – the last thing you need is for Filch to catch you.”

“Right.” Harry nodded, sighing loudly before dragging himself up to his dormitory to grab his father’s Cloak. He tried to take deep breaths, wondering just how he was going to do this without losing House points or his head or any sense of self worth. Granted, Snape hadn’t spoken a single word to him since the Flying lesson, like Damon had pointed out, but he could still feel Snape’s laser-beam glare searing a hole through his cranium some days. At this point, Harry didn’t know if it was because of the original reason for him hating him, because Ariel was talking to him over it, or a combination of both, but he was quite alright with not finding out.

Harry wrapped the Cloak around him, shivering in the late night December air and wondering what his father had done with it when he’d been alive. Had he used it to sneak out with his Mum and friends? Would he have been happy to know it had made it’s way back to Harry?

“Good luck!” Damon called, a smirk on his face as Harry slipped through the common room door and out into the dark, dank corridor.

He threw the Cloak around his shoulders and raised his wand, casting a dim  _ Lumos  _ as he began to make his way to Snape’s quarters. He smiled at the tip of his wand, illuminated a silvery blue and remembered the first day Ariel had shown him the spell. The day she’d come for him. The day his life had been turned upside down. The day he’d found something he’d thought he’d never find again.

The walk was shorter than anticipated, but then again, he should have figured that Snape’s quarters wouldn’t be too far from the dormitories. Sometime back in October, somewhere had Charmed the Slytherin showers to produce green water and even though it had been nearly midnight when a prefect had gone to get him, Snape had been there in a flash.

Harry simply stood there for a long moment, taking off the Cloak and staring up at the wood before he took a deep breath.

Just as he raised his fist to the door, a talon-like hand dug into his shoulder blade.

_ “Mr  _ Potter.” The last voice Harry had ever wanted to hear drawled from behind him, “Just  _ what  _ do you think you’re doing?”

Harry swallowed audibly and fought to ignore the instinct to run like hell. Instead, he tried to channel his inner Gryffindor and turned to face his Head of House.

The man looked terrible, and that was saying something. Snape had always looked sallow and angry, but right now, he looked like he’d just taken on a dragon or some other beast. There were deep, dark circles under his eyes that only made him look more dangerous.

“Where’s my sister?” Harry tried to said in a calm voice, but instead, it came out in something that barely passed as a whisper.

Snape’s eyes narrowed, “I beg your pardon?”

“She went to see you Christmas night.” Harry swallowed down his nerves and squared his chin, “I haven’t seen her since.”

An eyebrow was slowly inching its way up the man’s forehead, “And you think  _ I  _ have something to do with that, Mr Potter?”

“I think you were the last person to see her. Damon said she saw her briefly this morning, but you said to leave her alone…” Harry trailed off, suddenly feeling very small as the potions master towered over him.

Snape’s glare was ice cold and biting.

“I just want to make sure she’s alright.” He said, averting his eyes to the floor, “She’s never gone a day without seeing me and… it’s not like her. I’m worried.”

When the presence looming over him seemed to diminish, only then did Harry look up at Snape again. He’d taken a step or two back and was massaging his forehead forcefully with his hand. Harry got the impression he was trying very hard not to bury his face in his hands.

“I’ll… I’ll go.” Harry said quickly, his eyes immediately darting around the man’s tall frame for an escape route, “I’m sorry I bothered you… I can go and see if she made it up to Gryffindor Tower —”

“Potter,” Snape said in a voice that dripped with an unknown warning,  _ “shut up.” _

He blinked before a rush of embarrassment and partly fear flooded up to his face. Harry focused his gaze on a crack in the wall and focused on what the origins of it were in order to deter his thoughts from the possibly homicidal man standing right in front of him. When the wall stopped working, he resigned himself to counting his breaths and praying that Damon had decided to tag along after all.

“Get inside, Potter.” Snape finally said, the words sounding so forced that Harry thought he didn’t hear him correctly at first. He swooped around him, jerking open the door and holding it open for Harry.

He looked back up at the man, blinking in shock uncomprehendingly.

“Have you gone deaf?” Snape barked, making Harry jump, “Inside. _ Now.” _

He scurried inside, green eyes sharpening as they took in the unfamiliar and possibly dangerous new setting. There were no torture instruments out and about, nor were there any large candelabras dripping with candle wax. Instead, the room was lit quite brightly, with emerald green couches surrounding a large fireplace, a desk like the one in his office with two chairs in front of it, and several shelves crammed full of books and parchment. Harry noticed that there were four doors as well and he tried to remember which ones were the bedrooms.

“Sit down.” Snape snapped, pointing to a chair in front of his desk.

“Sir… I didn’t…” Harry looked around dumbly for signs of Ariel, “I didn’t mean to insult you or anything… I just…”

Snape’s face melded into something that told Harry if he had to repeat himself one more time, things were going to turn ten times worse than they were now.

He sat.

The professor stood in front of him for a moment before stalking around the desk like some great bat and sat down, leaning forward. Snape simply stared at Harry with a look that was a mixture of the hatred he’d seen the first day of term and a growing trepidation he didn’t understand one bit. The man didn’t wear the look well. 

“You think I’m the danger.” Snape finally said.

The lead in Harry’s stomach fell to the floor.

“What?” He squeaked.

“Your sister told me last night.” Snape’s eyes glittered dangerously, though his face had turned passive, “you believe it’s me who’s trying to steal the Stone.”

“I…” Harry was going to  _ kill _ Ariel when he found her, “I… it’s just… we saw you threatening  _ Quirrell  _ of all people… a-and…”

“Stop  _ talking.” _ Snape snarled, “I did not drag you in here to speak of your misconceptions. We’re here to talk about your sister.”

Harry’s mouth clamped shut and he waited for the man to continue speaking.

“She is safe.” Snape said and Harry let a balloon of air release from his stomach, “I’ve been watching her throughout the day. She’s just returned to her Tower.”

A feeling of relief flooded through him, before guilt layered over it, making Harry sit up straighter in his seat, “Then where has she been?”

“About the castle.”

“But  _ where?” _

“If you’re so concerned, then you can ask her yourself tomorrow morning!” Snape snapped, a bite in his voice that made Harry’s spine press against the back of the chair.

“Is something wrong?” Harry asked, wanting answers, “Did something happen to her? She went to talk to  _ you.” _

And then Snape’s face turned a dangerous white, his lips bloodless and eyes suddenly sharper than knives, flinging themselves at Harry’s wide-eyed expression.

“You think I’d hurt her?” His voice was just daring him to answer  _ yes,  _ like he’d somehow have a leverage Harry didn’t want to find out how he’d use against him. 

“No!” Harry held his hands up, “No, of course not! But I —”

“But you think  _ I’m _ after the Stone.” Snape rumbled, standing now.

“You haven’t given me a reason to believe you can be trusted!” Harry’s temper broke, rising up out of his chair, “You’ve hated my guts the second you met me… maybe even before you met me! You haven’t shown  _ me  _ that you’re the good person Ariel believes you are, so sorry that I’m scared of that! I only came here to make sure she wasn’t… to make sure you knew she hasn’t been around.”

Something that was akin to realization, or perhaps it was shock or even something greater, flashed across Snape’s face, but the man quickly composed himself and leaned forward, his tone much softer and with half the malice it had just held.

“Watch yourself, boy.” Snape said coldly, something new and distant that made a shiver travel through Harry’s slim frame, “I did not ask you in here for such accusations to be thrown around.”

“You’re the one doing the accusing.” Harry said evenly.

He had never spoken to an adult as such, save Uncle Vernon on occasion, and Harry didn’t ever think he’d ever challenge Snape like this. He hadn’t realized just how angry the whole situation was making him until the man had pulled him in here. How was it that Harry was the suspicious one, and yet, somehow  _ he  _ was being questioned?

Snape eyed him, like he was some kind of new enemy, and slowly sat back down.

_ “Sit.”  _ He commanded flatly, and Harry obeyed.

Snape cupped his mouth with his hand, leaning forward and staring at him for several moments, his other hand drumming the desktop in an even rhythm. He’d lost all the fury that he’d been nearly trembling with just moments ago, but his eyes had turned into black marbles, harder than diamonds.

“This is not how I wanted to go about this.” He said finally, looking annoyed and frustrated.

Harry blinked, trying to ignore the fight or flight mode his brain had switched on without his permission.

“I realize that my actions have been…  _ discouraging.”  _ Snape said in a voice that told Harry he didn’t realize that one bit.

Okay, now  _ he _ was thoroughly confused, “Sir?”

The man sighed heavily, like it was taking all of his strength and more to speak aloud, “Your sister… she’s told you why her and I are not on good terms, yes?”

…was he willingly discussing Ariel with him? Was this really happening?

Harry squirmed, “I uh… yes, sir.”

“Then I believe you should know that this moment has been a long time coming… whether or not I saw that myself is besides the point.”

_...what? _

“I owe you…” Snape gritted his teeth, “I owe you an apology, Potter.” The words might has well have been the confession of a tortured man, “For the way I treated you at the start of term.”

Well.

Of all the things he’d been expecting, that had not been one of them.

Harry didn’t know where to begin in responding to this. He must have been knocked unconscious by Draco and fallen into this mad scenario. Snape didn’t  _ apologize  _ to people, least of all  _ him. _

“Oh.” was all Harry said instead.

Snape raised a sardonic eyebrow that clearly read,  _ “Well? Is that all you’re going to say?” _

“Why?” Harry asked, and then, realizing what he’d just opened himself up to, stifled the urge to hit himself.

“You’re inquiring as to why I’m apologizing, or why I have been…  _ less than kind _ towards you?”

Harry hesitated, and then decided that the first option was probably the safest, “The former, sir.”

“Do you  _ require  _ a reason?” Snape’s eyes flashed.

Hadn’t a group of Ravenclaws done an experiment to see if Snape really was the meanest teacher in the world? Harry suddenly wanted to see those results, pronto.

“No?” He tried, secretly wanting one more than anything.

Snape stood, swooping around the side of the desk and past Harry, jerking the door open and standing beside it, “Then that will be all, Mr Potter. Return to your dormitory for the evening, and if you try to make any detours,” His black eyes went to the Cloak folded in Harry’s lap, “I will know about it.”

Harry gulped and nodded, hopping out of the chair and trying to avoid the man’s stone-hard gaze.

“And Mr Potter?”

Harry turned, eyes narrowing as he braced himself for the improbable insult or accusation that would surely be thrown his way. There was no way Snape would let him off this easy, even if he  _ had  _ just apologized to him… sort of. 

“Leave it alone.” Snape’s eyes had become flaming coals, a sharp feeling throwing itself through Harry’s mind.

“What?” He asked, taken aback and a bit frightened.

“You know what I mean, boy.” Snape said in a voice that would make poor Neville Longbottom pass out right then and there,  _ “Leave  _ it  _ alone.” _

“I don’t —” 

The door slammed shut in his face.

What was he — 

_ Oh. _

The Stone.

Harry stared at the closed door one more, where suspicion continued to bubble up inside of him, and worry, because he still hadn’t seen Ariel for himself.

Damon was gone when he returned to the Slytherin common rooms, and off in the distance, Harry could hear Draco shouting. He sighed, wondering what had happened know and why they had to argue so late. If Draco returned to bed angry and knowing Harry was awake, he was usually the dumping ground for the aftermath.

“Where have  _ you  _ been?” Draco sniffed, right on cue as Harry climbed into bed, “Strutting about the castle with that bloody Cloak of yours, are you?”

“Shut up, Malfoy.” Harry groaned, “For once, just shut the hell up and let me sleep in peace.”

Maybe the cosmos had decided to give him a break, because for once, Harry heard the sound of rustling sheets, and Malfoy said no more.

He wondered if Snape had meant it.

Of course, the second he questioned that thought, his conscious immediately said,  _ are you mad? Of course he didn’t.  _ Snape was probably just looking to get back in Ariel’s good graces, and acting like he cared about Harry’s feelings was probably the best way to go about doing that.

_ Unless… _

What if he had just said it in order to deter Harry from his trail? If Ariel had gone to him last night asking about the Stone, he was bound to be wary and more cautious than before. If Ariel had told him that Harry suspected he was after the Stone, what better way to deter his investigation than to change his act? After all, Snape had never given  _ Harry  _ a reason to trust or like him. Even if he could think of  _ something,  _ he’d saved him from the Dursley's, but even then, that had been Ariel. She’d seen him through that connection she’d told him about… through their scars…

The same scar that had pricked when he saw Snape staring at him after the Sorting.

And then of course, the third option was that Snape had actually  _ meant  _ the apology, and the fact that Harry was even  _ considering  _ that maddening possibility probably meant that he should be asleep instead of awake and contemplating any of this.

* * *

Ariel wished James had left her another one of those Invisibility Cloaks, because right now, she could have really used one.

“Where have you  _ been?” _ Hermione jumped up from her spot on the couch, hairy frizzy and amber eyes already demanding an explanation as Ariel slowly walked through the portrait hole.

“I had things to do.” Ariel waved her off dismissively, walking right past her and focusing on the warmth her bed would offer her.

_ (She’d found her way down to the kitchens and warmed herself by the ovens for the past hour, the rest of the day spent in an alcove near the Divination classroom) _

“Your brother has been worried sick!” Hermione tailed after her in that lecture-voice she usually only saved for Ron and Harry, “You didn’t come back last night… you’ve been missing  _ all day…” _

“What, does he think that three headed dog ate me or something?” Ariel rolled her eyes.

“He’s been running all over the school looking for you!”

“Am I not allowed to be alone for once?” She lashed out, feeling the remainder of the beautiful cold outside leave her fingertips, “I went to go and talk to my father, and because I haven’t spoken to him in  _ months,  _ I decided I wanted some time to myself. Is that  _ so  _ strange and maddening that I deserve to get grilled when I decide I want to talk to people again?”

Ron was gaping at her from the couch as Ariel took a deep breath and tried to steady herself.

Hermione looked hurt, “Of course you are, but the least you could do is have some decency and let us know you’re alright.”

“Fine,” Ariel heaved a loud sigh, “then here’s my announcement that I’m fine and alive and wanting to be by myself, okay?” 

Hermione opened her mouth, but Ron grabbed her arm and pulled her back, giving Ariel an opportunity to make an escape.

“Let it be, Hermione!” She heard Ron hiss, “Take a hint! Harry will talk to her in the morning.”

She flung herself into her bed, curling the blankets around her tightly as she listened to the other girls in her year getting ready for bed. She thought back to last year when she had been initially friendless, not knowing how to reach out to the other girls and boys in Gryffindor. Damon had come along, quite obnoxiously at first, and now there was Ron and Hermione, though they were more Harry’s friends than hers… she couldn’t stand Hermione, anyway.

Even if Ariel could, she didn’t think she would tell them what was bothering her so much. Their loyalties lay with her brother. It wouldn’t be right to impose her problems on them.

But she could tell Damon.

_ That’s a terrible idea,  _ her conscious immediately told her, and Ariel sighed with defeat. She was too tired to fight, even if it was with herself. She wondered if her mother had fought with Severus like this. Had she felt like this the night she’d turned him away? Had Lily felt regret, felt like something had been taken that shouldn’t have been?

Why had she continued to love him if she’d suspected he was going to join You-Know-Who?

Love wasn’t something people could just  _ choose –   _ Ariel knew that. Dumbledore had told her when she was younger that love was the most powerful kind of magic, that it held something in it that even those who  _ did  _ love didn’t understand. Voldemort had underestimated it, and apparently, it was the only reason her father had come to the Light side.

What had changed Lily’s mind, then? What had led to the last night her parents had last seen each other? What had made her mother keep her… had James  _ known?  _ Or had Ariel been a dirty secret from the very beginning?

It was because of this that she could never tell Harry. He’d already been subjected to harder times… to a childhood of a hateful, bitter aunt and then being Sorted into the hardest House to make it through if you didn’t know the ropes or the right people. Ariel had seen Damon struggle, even though he hid it well most of the time. Granted, it was better that they both had one another now, but two against an entire House weren’t the best odds.

It would only widen the gap between them, Ariel decided. The last thing Harry needed to find out was the Ariel’s was only his half sister… that her  _ real  _ father hated him because Harry’s  _ dead  _ one had been an arrogant shit at one point. James couldn’t have always been so horrible, she had reasoned with herself, or else Lily would have never married him and had Harry. Severus had only shown her a memory or two of James in action… surely that couldn’t have been  _ all  _ there was to him. All those pictures of Lily and James together looking so happy  _ must  _ have been true as well.

_ I heard him yelling for hours that night. _

_ what one might imagine Hell to sound like _

People who loved one another definitely didn’t join evil psychopaths that wanted to destroy those who couldn’t possibly defend themselves, and that was what ate away at Ariel as she lay there in bed, curling further into herself and trying to make herself so small that she’d fall through the floorboards and be able to escape Hogwarts, escape the memories that she held now.  

* * *

The next morning brought with it a sudden blizzard, immediately narrowing down the area Harry would have to cover if Ariel didn’t turn up at breakfast again. There was no way she could even begin to venture outside today, which meant no rock.

Harry hastily threw on his robes and the scarf his sister had given him for Christmas, because the corridors had been deathly cold lately, and made his way up to the Great Hall, Damon catching him just in time to walk up with him.

He held his breath as he walked through the entrance, letting a smile spread across his face when he saw the wavy sea of red hair sitting across from Hermione at the Gryffindor table.

“Where have you  _ been?”  _ Harry demanded, as he plopped himself down next to his sister, Damon right behind him, “I was looking for you all day yesterday!”

“I wasn’t feeling well.” Ariel was shifting her eggs around her plate, not even bothering to meet his gaze. She looked tired, paler than usual. There were dark rings under her eyes.

“So where  _ were  _ you?” Harry asked again, “You weren’t up in the Tower… you weren’t at your  _ rock  _ or any of your other spots.”

She shrugged, “I was around. I just needed to be alone.”

“You should have gone to Madam Pomfrey if you weren’t feeling well.” Hermione said, very matter-of-factly.

His concern and suspicion only grew what Ariel didn’t bother to retort or roll her eyes at her. Harry considered Hermione one of his best mates, but sometimes she could turn very bossy, and if there was anything he’d learned about his sister, it was that she didn’t like to be told what to do.

“Did you talk to Snape?” Harry sighed, leaning forward to try and get her to look at him. He was curious to see how she would answer. Obviously  _ something  _ had happened to make Snape say what he had… but what had Ariel told him? Did she know? Had she forced her father to say those things to him last night?

Ariel didn’t answer him, but kept her eyes glued to her breakfast. Harry exchanged a look with Hermione and Damon, who continued eating and left the talking to him. Ron was staring at his sister like she was about to break her fork.

“Ariel?” Harry said in a loud voice, waving his hand in front of her face, “Earth to Ariel Potter!”

She snapped to attention, hair bouncing around her shoulders as she finally looked up at him, dropping her fork with a clatter.

“Are you okay?” Harry’s eyes narrowed, “Did Snape do something?”

Her face somehow lost even more color, and she shook her head, “I’m sorry… I’m still a little out of it. It’s not him, Harry. It’s like I told you.”

“What is?” Damon’s head whipped back and forth between them, looking over at Hermione, “What are they talking about _?” _

“So he said Quirrell is after the Stone?” Harry asked, eyebrows furrowing together in skepticism.

“Well,  _ Dad _ certainly isn’t after it.”

“But he  _ said _ he wasn’t, right?”

“Not verbatim, but –”

“So it  _ could  _ still be him.”

“My father is  _ not  _ after that Stone, Harry!”

Damon nearly spit out his pumpkin juice at her words,  _ “Excuse me?” _

“He thinks Snape is after the stupid Stone.” Ariel sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “The one that giant dog is guarding up on the third floor.”

He laughed loudly, sending a group of older Gryffindors sending a nasty look their way, “That’s ridiculous, Harry.”

“Because  _ Quirrell  _ is the more likely suspect.” Harry rolled his eyes, “We’ve seen Snape  _ threatening  _ him, not the other way around.”

Damon gave Ariel an annoyed look, “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

“Because it doesn’t matter!” She snapped suddenly, scooting off the bench, “It’s none of our business anyway! Why you all  _ care  _ so damn much? Just leave it alone, alright?”

Harry glanced at Hermione, who looked bewildered at his sister’s sudden flight and demeanor. In the several months he’d known her, Ariel had never acted as such.

“Ariel!” Harry called after her as he raced out of the Great Hall, “Ariel  _ wait!” _

She kept walking, like she wasn’t hearing him.

“I talked to your father!” Harry blurted out, willing to say anything at this point to get her to stop.

She screeched to a halt, red hair whipping about as she turned around to face him, “You did  _ what?” _

“He… he apologized.”

Ariel blinked, making a disbelieving face, “Excuse me?”

“He called me into his office and said he was sorry for the way he treated me at the start of term.” Harry sighed, “I was looking for you and thought he might know where you were…”

She looked stunned, like those were the last words she’d ever expected to hear before she composed herself a bit, “But you still think he’s after the Stone.”

“He’s acting awfully suspicious, Ariel.”

“How many times do I have to say this, Harry? It’s  _ Quirrell!” _

“Did he tell you that?”

“No but”

_ “LOCOMOTOR WIBBLY!”  _ A voice laughed, a flash of orange light was all Harry saw before his legs gave out from underneath him.

_ “Malfoy!”  _ Ariel shouted, as Harry’s lungs let out an involuntary gasp, “I swear, if you don’t get lost  _ right now _ – _ ” _

“Oooh, Potty can’t defend himself without his big sissy here, now can he?” Malfoy was positively howling with glee at his work. Harry gritted his teeth and tried to stand, only to fall back to the ground. His eyes found Malfoy and Goyle, slightly hidden behind

“That’s  _ it,  _ you little snot!” Ariel snarled, and then a burst of red light shot out from the end of her wand,  _ “Tarantallegra!” _

Goyle dove out of the way, but Malfoy didn’t. The green spell hit him in the legs, and he began to move in a way that, for a moment, made Harry not believe his eyes.

He couldn’t help it. He began to laugh, for Malfoy was now waltzing about the corridor against his will.

_ “POTTER!”  _ Malfoy shouted, panic coating his voice, “Stop it! Cancel the damn spell!”

“What’s wrong, Draco?” Harry hooted, “Can’t take what you dish out yourself?”

“I told you to get lost.” Ariel crossed her arms and smirked victoriously, “Shame on you for not listening.”

“What in Godric’s good name is going on here?” McGonagall’s voice asked, loud and knowing.

They all froze automatically, except for Malfoy of course, who continued to dance. When McGonagall’s eyes landed on him, Ariel’s wrist moved and he toppled over, pink in the face.

“A  _ duel?”  _ She asked, though it was more a statement than a question, “Well, I must say, not an impressive one at that.”

“He shot the first one, Professor.” Ariel shot a nasty look over at Malfoy.

“And  _ she  _ Jinxed me back!” He shouted, his ego clearly bruised.

“She was protecting herself!” Harry shot back, “Since  _ you  _ obviously have nothing better to do.”

“Enough, all four of you!” McGonagall’s glare silenced them all, “Twenty points from each of your Houses, and you’ll be assigned detention for this. Now,  _ disperse.” _

Malfoy scrambled to his feet as Goyle followed absentmindedly. Harry rose from the floor, wincing as his funny bone screamed and protest. He turned to ask his sister if they could find somewhere private to speak, but she had disappeared.

“Mr Potter?” McGonagall asked as he stared where Ariel had just been, “Is something the matter?”

Harry turned to her and sighed, “Honestly professor, I don’t know.”


	27. Legends Never Die

She was sitting on one of the windowsills that lined the spiral stairwell that led to the Astronomy Tower that night, shivering as a rush of winter air passed through her. Severus wondered if Ariel even realized just how cold she looked, or if she was so deep in thought that she didn’t feel it. It was better than following her out to that blasted rock, he supposed. If that had been the case, he’d have dragged her back to the castle to keep her from freezing to death if need be.

He held her winter cloak in his hand, an item she’d left in his quarters and hadn’t bothered to retrieve despite the bitter cold that had enveloped the school.

It was an excuse, Severus knew that, and a poor one at that. But after watching that memory in the Pensieve, after showing Ariel everything he’d buried so far within himself that it was painful to even skim the surface of thought near those memories… he felt himself needing to know how she was.

Minerva had come to his office and told him of the incident with Malfoy that afternoon. Part of him wasn’t surprised at all, really, for Ariel had always had a short temper. Combined with her protectiveness for Potter and her scattered emotions, Malfoy was lucky she hadn’t Hexed his nose off, or worse.

He was worried. Ariel had barely spoken to anyone, save the boy, of course. All she’d done was wander the grounds as Severus followed, Disillusioned and from a distance. Ariel hadn’t cried or tried to breach the subject with any of her friends or even gone to speak to Severus again. She seemed to be isolating herself, letting everything build up, and Malfoy had been the ceiling of her tolerance.

Severus wondered so many things as he watched her. He wondered if he’d realized the first thing he had when he’d uncovered the truth — the beautifully, ugly truth.

Severus stood on the step below where she had climbed up and waited.

Ariel said nothing, but the wind spoke with a howl that made his robes billow around him wildly, her scarlet hair scattering about her face as she hugged her arms tighter around her body.

“You’re going to catch pneumonia if you stay out here any longer.” Severus finally said, holding the cloak out to her and stifling the overwhelming urge to throw it around her shoulders himself.

Ariel turned her head a bit, but did not look at him, “I like the cold.”

“You won’t when you have a fever and frostbite.”

“It takes my mind off of things.” She brought her knees up to her chin, “It’s a good distraction.”

Guilt flooded through his chest at the expression on her face. Severus had wanted her so much to see in that moment why, and then, in the next, he’d regretted it more than anything. But the possibility of letting her walk out the other night under the _one_ truth that he had hated James Potter was unbearable. There had been so much more to it, so much more he had ruined with a single slip.

“I’m sorry.” Severus whispered, “It was never my intention for you to find out like this.”

“Or at all, apparently.” Ariel mumbled, “What did you think was going to happen when you treated Harry badly? I was just going to _accept_ that and life would continue on? Even if I didn’t know, it was better than _this!”_ she gestured to the December air around her, eyes filling to the brim with fresh tears, “I was _happy_ with you… I was looking forward to finally being able to know my brother. Not _replace_ you.”

He didn’t respond, because making that a truth would show that he’d made the same mistake twice.

“You’re the reason Harry didn’t want to be with me.” anger was creeping into her voice, “You made him feel unwanted… even though you knew how much I wanted him… you made me _wait…”_

“I was trying to hold on a while longer.” Severus reached a hand towards her, letting it rest at her feet.

“I’m trying to hold on right _now.”_ Glass tears poured down her face, “But I… there’s nothing to grab onto.”

“That’s what the memories were for.”

“They just make me more frustrated.” She sounded as fierce as the winter wind, “I don’t know who to be mad at… who to assign blame to. All I can think of is how you could _possibly_ equate Harry to what James was. That’s like… if Harry and one of those horrid Carrow sisters had a kid, I couldn’t possibly hate it. It’s not _the kid’s_ fault.”

“I was expecting him to be as arrogant as his father. I thought the worst from the start because it made sense that his son would grow up to be just like him.” Severus threw the cloak around her legs, biting back a command for her to come down and get back to the Tower.

“Maybe if he had been in Gryffindor… _maybe_ I could see it. But you saw him under the cupboard and watched him get Sorted into Slytherin. You saw firsthand just how different Harry was from his father, and yet you _went out of your way –”_

“Just like the boy’s father did to others.” He snapped back, unable to help himself.

“Then you’re as bad as he was!” Ariel spat, fully turning away from him now, “If that’s all you meant to show me with those memories, then you’re as terrible as he was. Worse, even.”

It was like a punch to the gut he hadn’t been anticipating in the slightest.

Severus took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as Ariel kicked the cloak off her legs, “You’re going to freeze to death up here, Ariel. You need to come down.”

“I’m not going _anywhere_ with you.”

“Ariel, don’t force my hand with this.” Severus said tiredly, _“Please,_ come down.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but snapped it shut and scowled at the open window, “If you leave, I’ll go.”

A part of him rolled his eyes, but then he remembered that he could easily Disillusion himself and follow her back up to Gryffindor Tower to make sure she kept her word.

“Fine.” Severus sighed, glancing back at the heap of fabric at her feet, “Put that on, and I will leave first.”

Ariel grabbed the cloak like it was something vile and threw it around her shoulders.

“Happy?” She asked, an annoyed edge in her voice.

He nodded and back away slowly, the distance between them making the ache in his chest grow.

“Dad?” Ariel called when he’d hit the third step.

Severus turned, his cloak spilling over the stone steps.

“Harry told me you apologized.” Her voice turned wondering, a hint of the old curiosity that driven him mad when she’d been younger, “Did you do it for me, or because you’re genuinely sorry?”

 _That_ been a spectacular failure. He didn't know why the boy suspecting him bothered him so much. If anything, it confirmed his suspicions that the Potter brat was going to drive a wedge between him and Ariel. Finding the boy staring up at his door was the last sight Severus had ever expected to see, and then those blasted eyes were looking up at full of worry and concern for the girl…

But, as Ariel had so clearly pointed out, Severus had done enough damage himself. Apologizing to the boy, loathed as he was to do it, eased the nagging voice that had been wreaking havoc since Ariel had run from him earlier this morning. He suspected James Potter must be toasting to himself, wherever the bastard was.

“I suppose both.” Severus conceded.

She turned back towards the window, “I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“You shouldn’t have to.” He looked away, down the dark staircase, “It’s like I said, child, I never wanted you to know any of this. It was my burden.”

“Yeah, well, then you turned your _burden_ into a grudge against someone I love.”

“I was _trying_ to protect you.” Severus said through slightly bared teeth, anger creeping into his voice.

“Oh, from what? The wiles of James Potter?” Ariel scoffed, “Oh wait – he’s dead. You got what you wanted there. That’s why you became a Death Eater, isn’t it?”

Something hot and sharp pierced his chest at her words. Severus saw a variety of emotions flash across her face, almost like alarm, and she spun her legs over the side of the ledge. His hands shook as he balled them at his sides, backing away from her slowly.

“I didn’t mean that.” Ariel looked at the ground, misery twisting her face, “I’m sorry.”

She had every right to hate him, but he couldn’t bear to hear such things, no matter how much he deserved them. Severus heard her feet hit the ground, as he turned away, and then, there was a hand in his. He let his fingers curl around it, scarcely able to believe she was holding it at all. She leaned her head against Severus’ arm, her other hand wrapping around it tightly, like it was a lifeline.

“If it’s worth anything, Mum loved you too.” Ariel looked up at him with watery eyes, “You just never realized it.”

And then, she was gone.

He stood there for a long time, leaning his head against the stone wall.

It was worth something.

She was worth everything.

* * *

There had to be a first for everything, Ariel supposed, and this year, it seemed she would be getting House points docked on her account _and_ a detention that had not be dished out by her father. Ariel almost found it unfair that Draco and Harry had been going at each other all year without being caught, and yet, the _one time_ she threw one little Hex at the prat…

The note assigning the day and time of their sentence came nearly a week after the actual incident. Damon had teased her, saying that the chosen ones didn’t _get_ detention, but she’d threatened to let it slip that he had a crush on Pansy Parkinson (who, in Ariel’s opinion, looked like a pug), and he’d shut his mouth on _that_ matter. Hermione, on the other hand, had given Ariel and Harry disapproving looks and sighs while Ron high-fived them and applauded their good work.

 _I wonder where you get your temper from,_ a little voice in the back of her head sneered, but she threw it in the same tiny little box where she’d put Severus in the beginning of the year and braced herself for a night of scrubbing trophies with Filch and her brother… and Malfoy. 

Ariel silently thanked McGonagall for not telling her father, for he hadn’t mentioned it when he’d come to her the night he’d followed her to the alcove, because if he had even _tried_ she might have collapsed into something irreversible right then and there. Between her mother possibly loving her father and her father absolutely, _irrevocably_ loving her mother, and her father not really being her father or decent human being at some point, and her _real_ father being a part of the force that had taken her not-father and mother from her… 

She couldn’t face Severus. Ariel could that night, because it had been hours since she’d last spoken to Severus and her mind had numbed itself from everything. But Ariel had cried after he’d left her, new wounds ripped right back open to burn against the open air that hung in between them now. She didn’t know how to talk to him anymore.

The detention was a good thing, all matters of her spotless record aside. It was an even better distraction than the cold, and she got to spend time, even if it was involuntarily, with Harry.

 Good grief, had she really sunk _this_ low in order to keep herself going?

At ten to midnight, Ariel headed down to the Great Hall where McGonagall’s note had told her to meet Filch and her brother.

… _and,_ the last person on Earth she wanted to see. She could hear the arguing, which was disguised in a passive aggressive way that almost made it _not_ sound like arguing, as Ariel rounded the corner to the entrance hall.

“A little hard work won’t kill the brats, Snape.” Filch was snapping in that twitchy voice Ariel had come to hate throughout the years, “It’s just a pity they let the old punishments die out.”

“They stay within his sights.” Her father said, or more, _ordered,_ in his Snape-liest voice, “You make that clear to him as soon as you see him, is that understood?”

Ariel groaned and closed her eyes before turning the corner, bracing herself for the sight before her. Malfoy, Goyle, and Harry were standing in a line in front of Filch and Snape. The both of them looked thoroughly annoyed with one another, though her father looked more likely to Hex Filch.

Harry shot her a wary look, as if to say, _“stay back until they’re done,”_ but no sooner had she attempted to backtrack did her father whirl around and locked eyes with hers.

He _had_ known about the detention – Ariel could tell by the way Severus was looking at her in that disapproving and yet annoyed-that-he-couldn’t-do-anything-about-it-himself way. Why hadn’t he said anything the other night, then?

“Miss Potter,” Her father said stiffly, “you’re late.”

“Yes.” She agreed, offering him nothing more as she went to stand beside her brother.

Ariel felt the air behind her sizzling under the intensity of Severus’ glare, but looked expectantly at Filch and pretended as though he was no longer here.

“Follow me.” Filch jerked his head in the direction of the entrance, lighting a lamp and leading them outside.

Ariel had never liked Filch, partly because of the way he carried himself. He’d absolutely terrified her as a child, along with Trelawney, who had sent her in a full blown meltdown one day when she’d pointed at Ariel and told her she’d meet her untimely doom soon. Severus had seen to her by spiking her tea the following morning, but Filch had been somehow worse. He’d sneak up on her, towering over her and accusing her constantly of being someplace she shouldn’t when really all she would be doing was doing exactly as she was told by her father or another professor. She came to dreading walking the corridors alone until one day, Severus had overheard Filch giving her a hard time and left him frozen there for six hours.

Needless to say, Filch left her alone after that, but still saved his nastiest looks for her.

“Why was he here?” Harry whispered as they began to march across the dark grounds. Malfoy kept shooting them annoyed glares, like he was somehow being put upon for an attack _he_ had initiated.

“Who?” Ariel asked, wrapping her cloak tightly around her. It was bloody freezing out. Why had Filch decided to hold the detention _outside?_ She’d been expecting cleaning rags and a room full of trophy cases.

“Snape.” Her brother rolled her eyes at her efforts to try and dodge his question. “He was yelling at Filch to make sure we were in someone’s sight at all times.”

“I don’t know. Maybe Filch decided to set us loose in the Forest and let the werewolves have a go at us, and Snape didn’t think that was appropriate.”

Harry looked up at her, horrified, before a familiar voice made both their hearts rise in their chests.

“Is that you, Filch?” Hagrid's voice called, his hut off in the distance covered in snow, “Hurry up, I want ter get started.”

“Thank Merlin.” Ariel said under her breath as Malfoy let out a horrified moan.

Hagrid was striding towards them, Fang at his heels. He was carrying his crossbow and a quiver of arrows over his shoulder, and at the sight, Ariel realized that they’d be entering the Forest tonight.

“Abou’ time.” Hagrid said, shooting Filch an annoyed look, “I bin waitin’ fer half an hour already. All right Harry, Ariel?”

“Fine, Hagrid.” Harry smiled, looking very relieved at the prospect of spending the night with the gamekeeper.

Filch shot them all a nasty look before turning back towards the castle. Ariel figured he thought he’d be bringing them back in pieces or something when their detention was over.

“I’m not going into that Forest.” Malfoy said, a hint of panic in his voice.

Harry and Ariel shared a dramatic eye roll. She looked past Hagrid as Malfoy began to argue with him, finding that her gaze was captured by something silvery and sparkling in the moonlight nearby.

“Hagrid?” She interrupted Malfoy, who was in the middle of saying something about his father hearing about this. She took a couple of steps towards the sight, “Hagrid, is that unicorn blood over there?”

“Right ye are.” He nodded grimly, giving his large head a shake, “This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We’re gonna try an’ find the poor thing.”

 _“What?”_ Malfoy asked shrilly, looking at Goyle, who seemed to straighten up a bit more, “What if whatever hurt the unicorn finds _us_ first?”

“Are you five years old?” Ariel snapped, “Afraid of the big bad wolf or something?”

“Right, because the _Gryffindor_ is ready to go gallivanting in to save the day.” Malfoy sneered.

“We wouldn’t even _be_ here if it wasn’t for your overly gelled-head.”

“Alright, that’ll be enough.” Hagrid said, sending Harry a look when he thought Ariel wasn’t looking. Malfoy continued to grumble under his breath, but the five of them began to make their way towards the Forest in silence.

“Now, listen teh me carefully.” Hagrid rounded on them, looking at each one of them seriously, “Once we step foot inside teh forest, yer gonna see patches of teh blood here and there. We all stay on teh path until it stops. Malfoy and Goyle, yeh both are comin’ with me. Ariel and Harry, I want yeh to take Fang.”

“Who’s scared of werewolves _now?”_ Malfoy whispered mockingly as Harry swallowed audibly.

“We’ll be fine.” Ariel shot the other Slytherins a nasty look, “Nothing will bother us as long as Fang is with us, right Hagrid?”

“Yeh couldn’t have said it better.”

And so they set off into the dark Forest, the smell of Earth filling Ariel’s senses as the snowy ground crunched beneath their feet. It had stopped snowing two days ago, but the cold was even greater. She wondered why McGonagall had chosen _this_ detention – scouting the Forest in the middle of January to look for a possibly dead unicorn wasn’t the usual kind of detention she heard students getting. Maybe Hagrid had overheard her discussing it at dinner and requested them.

They went on for several minutes in silence, until they came to a small clearing, silvery blood smeared a few feet away from them.

“This is where we split up.” Hagrid said, giving a nod to Fang, who went to Harry’s side, “I want teh both of yeh to promise you’ll send up blue flares if yeh find it, alright?”

They both nodded. Harry gave Fang a pat on the back and they parted ways with Malfoy, Goyle, and Hagrid, heading down a bit of steep path. Ariel wished Hagrid had stayed with them, but then again, letting Malfoy and Goyle go off on their own with the dog seemed like an even worse idea. Tonight for some reason, her ears seemed sharper than usual. Ariel seemed to be picking up every sigh of the wind, every cracking twig and brush of the undergrowth. She had the feeling that something was watching them closely.

“You’re not okay.” Harry said quietly after several minutes of silence, “And you’re avoiding me because you don’t want me to see it.”

“What?” Ariel kicked a stray tree branch, wishing it was Malfoy, “No, Harry I’m… I don’t know, this whole Stone thing just rubs me the wrong way. I didn't mean to shout at you the other day.”

“It didn’t bother you until after you talked to Snape.” He pointed out.

“I was trying to prove that I was right.” She muttered, “Stay close, the path is getting a bit tricky.”

“I like how Filch didn’t tell Hagrid Snape’s warning.” Harry rolled his eyes, “And now we’re in the middle of the Forest all by ourselves.”

“We’ll be fine.” Ariel sighed, grabbing onto her brother’s arm as they crossed over a small creek, “It’s not like You-Know-Who is out here, right? And we’ve got Fang.”

They both turned to look at the giant dog, who gave an appreciative woof.

“Snape still isn’t going to be happy if he finds out about this.” Harry said, almost to himself.

“Since when do you care what he thinks?” Ariel asked sharply.

“Since he hates my guts.”

“He doesn't hate _you,_ Harry.” _He hates James._

“Can we please not argue this point again? It’s obvious that the git goes out of his way to make my life less easy.”

“He’s…” Ariel trailed off, choosing her words carefully before she spoke again, “He feels _threatened_ by you, alright?”

 _“Threatened?”_ Harry’s green eyes widened in confusion, “What have I done to make him think I’m a _threat?”_

“Dad thinks that… well… he thinks that you would somehow come in between me… and him.” She watched her brother carefully, assessing his reaction.

He looked completely bewildered, so much so that his expression was almost comical, “B-but I would never… he can't _seriously —”_

“Trust me, I know.” Ariel swung her leg over a fallen tree trunk, holding out her hand for Harry to follow, “It’s the biggest load of rubbish I’ve ever heard before, and it’s why I’ve been avoiding everyone the past couple of days, alright? It’s not you. It’s him, and I’m trying to figure out what to do.”

“Is… is that why he apologized?” Harry asked quietly, “Did he really mean it, or was he just trying to get back on your good side?”

“I honestly don’t know.” She sighed, looking around at their surroundings, “Do you see any dead unicorns? Because I don’t.”

“Maybe we should —”

Her brother was cut off at the sound of leaves, like something was slithering over them on the Forest floor. Fang let out a frightened wine, pawing the ground anxiously.

And then, between a tangled mess of branches and bushes, they both saw what they’d been searching for at the same time.

“There she is.” Harry breathed, taking off. Ariel followed suite, right on his tail as they both knelt down in front of the creature

“I don’t understand what would do this.” She murmured, running her hand through the dirtied, white mane as the unicorn gave a pained whinny.

“A werewolf?” Harry guessed, kneeling beside his sister and watching the unicorn sadly.

Ariel shook her head, “What is it with you and werewolves? Even if there was one in the Forest, they’re not nearly fast enough to catch a unicorn. It’s not worth it, anyway. If you kill a unicorn it’s like… it’s a sin, really. It’s like hurting a piece of your soul to take away something so pure.”

“So then what’s willing to kill a unicorn?”

She was just about to answer him that nothing she could think of when the same rustling sound from before grabbed their attention, both their heads snapping up as a dark figure emerged from the bushes in front of them. It slithered across the ground at such an alarming speed that neither of them had time to stand and run, only let out cries of surprise and skitter backwards on their elbows.

The figure, hooded and cloaked with something blacker than the night sky, lowered its head to the fallen unicorn and began to drink its blood.

Ariel could feel her heart pumping her blood in her ears, her gaze transfixed on the sight before her. It was only when Ariel realized that Harry was hitting her arm repeatedly that she broke free of her trance, gripping his robes tightly as she heaved them both to their feet.

 _“Go!”_ Ariel croaked, pushing him forward as Fang took off.

The hooded figure lifted its head and looked right at them, rising to its feet and charged them swiftly.

And then her forehead exploded.

It was so bad that Ariel fell to her knees, squeezing her eyes shut and trying to block it out, but finding that she couldn’t. It was like someone had ignited a fire… like a white hot knife was being thrust into her temple and twisting around mercilessly…

She remembered the pain from the beginning of the year at the Feast and her visions of Harry the prior year.

This was nothing like that.

There was something loud hitting the ground, then. Ariel suspected that Harry had fallen beside her, but when the pain subsided, she found that he too was already on his knees.

“Oh gods!” She reached a hand towards him, fear throwing itself through her chest, “Harry, are you hurt?”

“N-no, I’m fine.” Green eyes met black, both wide and unfocused, “My scar… it just started hurting…”

“You are the Potter children.” A very deep, non-familiar voice stated aloud, jerking both their heads in the direction from which it came.

For a split second, Ariel wished she Hagrid had leant them some arrows and bow, for the being that stood before them now was a centaur. She looked behind it, finding that the fallen unicorn was now dead, but the cloaked figure was gone.

They both stared uncomprehendingly up at the creature, scared out of their wits.

“You had better get back to Hagrid.” The centaur continued, “The forest is not safe at this time… especially for you both.”

“Who are you?” Harry asked, slowly rising from the snowy ground. Ariel noticed that his scar was inflamed, reaching up to touch her own and wondering if hers looked the same.

“My name is Firenze.”  said the centaur. “Can you both walk? I must return you to safety quickly.”

Ariel shared a looked with Harry that clearly read that walking alone in a forest with centaurs was _not_ something her father would approve of in the slightest if he heard, but Fang had fled and with that _thing_ probably lurking about nearby…

They both bobbed their heads, grabbing each other's hands and huddling close as they walked at Firenze’s side.

“I’d hate to be a bother,” Ariel said timidly as they retraced their steps, giving the dead unicorn one last sad look, “but would you mind telling us what in Merlin’s name that thing was?”

He sighed, looking up towards the sky, “Mars is bright tonight.”

Harry tugged on her hand, and she looked to him, finding his face twisted with fear and confusion. Ariel gave him comforting hand a squeeze, looking back up at Firenze and waiting patiently for an answer she could understand. Dumbledore had told her once that centaurs could see more than met the eye, and apparently, Mars was one of those things.

He stopped suddenly then, looking down at the both of the with eyes so blue that it almost looked like they were shining.

“Potters, tell me, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?” Firenze asked.

Ariel quickly racked her brain for an answer, drawing a blank. They had used horns and hair in Potion’s, but never the blood. If they didn’t use the blood for Potions, she couldn’t fathom what other areas of magic could possibly use it. Maybe the Dark Arts… but how could she possibly know anything about that?

 _Your father would,_ hissed her conscious, and she threw it from her with a lip curl.

“No.” Harry answered, looked a bit startled by the odd question.

“That is because a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn.” Firenze said, repeating what Ariel had just told Harry moments ago, “Only one who has nothing to lose and everything to gain would commit such an atrocity. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, but you will live a cursed life from the moment it touches your lips.”

Ariel shuddered, “What kind of creature would be so desperate, then? If you’re going to be cursed forever, isn’t death better?”

“It is.” Firenze agreed. “Unless you are willing to be patient… willing to wait on something that will bring you back to full power… something that will keep you from death. Potters, don’t you know what is hidden in the school at this very moment.”

“The Sorcerer’s Stone!” Harry said, eyes brightening in realization, “Of course… the Elixir of Life! But who…”

“Can you think of no one who has waited many years to return to power, who has clung to life, awaiting their chance?” Firenze’s eyes had hardened, as though he were willing them to know, “You both encountered him and lived to tell the tale.”

It hit her as someone called their names, an iron fist clenching around her heart and squeezing it so tightly that she was sure she’d pass out. The feeling left her fingertips, as the moonlight was suddenly too harsh for her to handle. Oxygen was scarce, and all that was left was the sharp colors of the forest around her, spinning and throwing themselves at her as a name bounced around inside her skull.

_Voldemort._

That had been _Voldemort._

Ariel had a lifetime of the stories and the horrors to understand why witches and wizards alike feared his name. She spoke it sometimes, because Dumbledore had once told her that fear of a name only increased fear of a thing itself. He was the only one Ariel had ever heard say Voldemort, save Harry, but her brother was different. Perhaps that was the one silver lining living with the Muggles had given him — the ignorance of not really knowing just how terrifying Lord Voldemort was.

Severus had never said the name, not the he’d spoken of Voldemort often, but when he had, he’d taken on this stoic expression, like it was taking everything he had to keep his emotions under control.

The only other time she’d seen him look that that was when Ariel had mentioned her Mum.

If he was after the Stone… if Quirrell was helping him… it was only a matter of time before he came for them. For her and Harry.

Ariel didn’t recollect how it happened, but seconds later she was at the castle doors, being ushered in by Filch, who wore a disappointed look on his face. Malfoy and Goyle were there, but she barely saw them because Harry seemed to be trying to get her attention desperately.

“Back to your dormitories!” Filch grumbled, looking put upon as Harry pulled her away from the scene. They fell down behind the wall just outside of the staircase that led to the dungeons, panting and both dripping with cold sweat.

“Ariel?” Harry squeezed her hand, green eyes looking for a reassurance, “Ariel, you haven’t said anything… please, say something!”

She took a deep breath, taking both of his hands in hers, “Go back to the dungeons.”

He looked shocked behind all the fear in his eyes, _“W-what?_ But Voldemort —”

“Please, just trust me on this, alright?” Ariel nearly pleaded, gently pushing him off, “Just go where it’s safe for now.”

“But —”

 _“Please,_ Harry!”

He looked wounded, but nodded numbly back and reluctantly stood.

“Please don’t go missing again.” His eyes widened as he begged. “Meet me tomorrow morning?”

“I… I promise.” Ariel swallowed. “Go on, Harry, before Filch…”

“I got it.” Harry said quietly.

And then he was gone, leaving Ariel alone to sink against the wall once more.

The thought of Voldemort being near, even if he was buried within the depths of the forest, was almost too terrifying to bear. The man who taken taken her mother… _both_ her fathers, though in two very different ways. After what had happened ten years ago…

He was going to take everything before she’d even had a chance to know what she wanted back, because if Voldemort was clawing his way back to life, then her father was in danger because he had been a Death Eater.

Ariel took off towards the dungeons, her heart ten paces ahead of her.


	28. The Kids Aren't Alright

Severus hadn’t been able to sleep.

Dawn brought with it a frost that made itself at home upon the Charmed windows. Personally, he had like the green that filtered in through them from the lake, but Ariel had told him it made the place look gloomy when she’d been younger. So he’d Charmed them one night to appear as they would if they were above ground, and even though it had been months since she’d slept her, Severus hadn’t the will to change them back in her absence.

He shouldn’t be worrying about a simple detention, but he couldn’t make the overwhelming urge to go and wait for the children to return at the entrance go away. As much as the bumbling oaf grated against him, there was no one like Hagrid who could communicate and keep the creatures that lurked in the Forest at bay. Filch, if he’d been assigned their detention, would have spent the time with his daughter and Potter ensuring they were miserable and that was the last thing they needed at the moment.

Severus wondered why he had just thrown Potter’s name into the mix alongside Ariel’s. What did he care what the brat did or didn’t feel?

There was a sudden banging at the door, so loud and continuous that Severus thought it to be several people at first. He swore loudly, wondering what his Slytherins could _possibly_ have done at this early hour to warrant such a ruckus. 

Severus jerked open the door, preparing his very worst scowl, but instead, his eyebrows hit his forehead at the sight before him.

Ariel was standing in the doorway, her face as white as a sheet. She was panting like she’d just run a marathon.

“What are —” Severus began, but was cut off when a sobbing gasp met his ears.

“Please, can I come in?” Ariel rasped, wrapping her arms around herself, black eyes flitting about nervously, like she was expecting something to jump out of the shadows and grab her. 

_“Please?”_ She practically begged when he did not answer, peeking over her shoulder.

Scared was never an emotion he’d reacted to seeing on her well. His nostrils flared as he put a protective hand on her shoulder, pushing her inside the room. He stepped out into the corridor and looked around. It was quiet, save the occasional _drip drip_ of water in the distance, for the dungeons were built under the lake.

Severus cast a quick _Lumos,_ eyes searching the illuminated corners as Ariel began to tremble under his grip.

There was nothing — no one.

With another scathing glare for the empty dungeons, Severus closed the door with more force than necessary. He turned to tell Ariel that she needn’t ask permission to come to his quarters, for they were hers as well, but stopped himself at the look on her ashen face.

“I’m sorry!” Ariel sobbed, hugging herself so tightly that it looked like it hurt, “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you for months and I’m sorry that Mum stopped talking to you. If I could I’d take it all back I would because now… now whenever I think about it, I want to just… I want to just _die_ because I shut you out just like she did to you.”

“Ariel, stop it.” Severus grabbed her shoulders, concern layering over his usually stoic expression.

“Y-you loved her and James was h-horrible and I was just as bad!” She leaned her forward into his shoulder as he knelt down.

Oh no no _no_

“Don’t you dare.” He hissed.

“You didn’t deserve it!” She wept, “And then mum d-died and I look _just like_ her and all this time I didn’t even _know…”_

_“Stop!”_ Severus nearly shouted, his voice bouncing off the walls.

Ariel cringed away, wiping her face frantically, “I’m s-sorry… I know I m-must sound mad —”

Severus wrapped his arms around her middle and held her firmly against him, because if she continued speaking, something inside of him was bound to burst and he didn’t know if he would ever be able to close it again. Ariel continued to mutter her apologies into his robes but he tuned them out, concentrating on what in Merlin’s name could have driven her to think _she_ owed _him_ any kind of remorse…

“What happened, Ariel?” Severus whispered against her hair.

“He was there.” Her voice was hoarse with fear again, “We saw him with the unicorn…”

“Who?”

“You-Know-Who…” She hiccupped, “I mean… V-Voldemort.”

Severus’ blood went as cold as ice, but something stronger he’d long thought buried underneath writhed and burned against the frost that surged through his veins.

“He was in the Forest!” Ariel repeated, tightening her grip around him, “It was during the detention… Hagrid told Harry and I to go looking for a unicorn he thought was injured and this… I didn’t realize what it was until the centaur came —”

_“Stop.”_ Severus held up a hand and tried to be as gentle as possible, for this was the first time she’d willingly come to him without being angry in months, and because if there was danger afoot, he needed her to be coherent and clear.

Ariel looked hurt, like he’d snapped at her.

Severus took a deep breath through his nose and tried to regulate his heartbeat. The Dark Lord anywhere _near_ the school with Dumbledore present was impossible. There was no world in which his child or Potter would come face to face with him on the Headmaster’s watch, or his own, for that matter.

“He was there!” Ariel’s tremors had carried to her voice as she continued insisting. “He was drinking blood from the unicorn we were looking for… the centaurs said that only someone willing to ruin their own soul could do such a thing…”

“Where was Hagrid when this happened?” Severus asked in a neutral voice.

“He… he sent Harry and I off alone. He was with Malfoy and Goyle…”

He was seeing red now. The oaf had sent them off _alone. Unprotected._ In the middle of the _Forest?_ That _fucking_ Squib — they’d never find the body —

_“Alone?”_ Severus hissed, long and deep, “I _told_ Filch… _ordered_ him to make sure you were always in Hagrid’s sights!”

“Well I don’t think he was expecting us to run into You-Know-Who!” Ariel said shrilly.

“That’s because you didn’t.” He rubbed her back in circles, trying his best to control his growing temper and focus on the terrified child in his arms, “Ariel, what you’re proposing is impossible. He was destroyed all those years ago.”

“His body was.” Ariel whispered into his neck, “But he was… like a spirit… and then the centaurs… they s-said…” She buried her face against his shoulder.

He waited, not knowing what to say to reassure her she was safe at the moment.

“They said he w-was coming for the Stone.” Ariel’s voice cracked, “H-he needs it to get a new body and so he can’t d-die…”

“Bloody centaurs.” Severus muttered aloud, almost to himself, “They don’t know when to keep their premonitions and other such nonsense to themselves.”

“My scar hurt!” She blurted out, tearing away from him and pushing her hair out of the way to show him, “Harry’s too! Voldemort would have killed us if Firenze hadn’t saved us…”

He guessed that Firenze must have been the centaur as he raised his hands to inspect the lightning bolt adorning her forehead. It was red, angry, like she’d just been struck with it.

His blood curdled.

“He was gone when the pain stopped…” Liquid eyes blinked at him, “I didn’t know where else to go…

“Stand up.” Severus pried her off of him gently.

“You don’t believe me?” Ariel’s eyes widened in fear.

“I said nothing of the sort.” He guided her over to the couch, rapping twice on the table with his knuckle, “Hot chocolate.”

Ariel frowned as a cup of the steaming liquid materialize before her, “I’m not thirsty… or a little kid.”

Severus nearly rolled his eyes at how defiant she could be, even when she was clearly frightened, “As you well know, chocolate has healing properties. It will make you feel better.”

She eyed it distastefully for a moment before she reached forward and drank, placing the saucer in her lap when she was done.

“Better?”

Ariel gave him a jerky nod, a bit of the tension visibly beginning to melt off her shoulders. She no longer looked like something was going to jump up out of the floorboards and eat her.

“I want you to tell me everything.” Severus said, his eyes finding themselves looking at her scar once more as he sat down on the opposite side of the couch, careful to give her enough space.

Ariel launched into the tale, pausing towards the beginning when she told him of how Filch _hadn’t_ relayed his warning to Hagrid and let two, _unprotected, under aged_ children into the snares of the Forbidden Forest. Severus stood, pacing the length of his study as he tried to calm himself. His mind already began to think ahead —  he’d get back at the fucking Squib one way or another. Maybe that damn cat…

For the time being, Severus broke the shelf of a bookcase to curb his fury.

But there were more alarming topics besides Filch’s blatant disregard for children’s safety. Severus seated himself at the mention of the unicorn and the figure that had emerged to finish the job, of how it had charged Ariel and Potter like they were familiar enemies…

Dumbledore would need to hear about this. He hadn’t told Severus _why_ he’d suspected Quirrell, but if his intentions were to bring the Stone to the Dark Lord…

“Was the pain like when you saw your brother when you were asleep?” Severus asked once Ariel had finished.

“No,” She shook her head, “when I saw him, it was more of an ache. This was… it felt like I was being stabbed in the forehead.”

He winced at the comparison, finding that her scar had returned to it’s normal state; like it had been there for years. “And Potter?”

“The same.” Ariel said quietly, twisting her hands in her robes, “It… it happened in the beginning of the year too.”

_“What?”_ Severus asked sharply, eyebrows furrowing together, “When?”

“At the Sorting… right after Harry sat down.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me this?”

“You kind of told me to get out your office that night.” Ariel’s eyes lowered themselves to her hands in her lap, “I didn’t think it was worth mentioning anyway.”

Severus silently cursed himself, rubbing his face tiredly as he leaned against the back of the couch.

They descended into silence, then, Ariel curled up against the arm of the sofa and Severus on the other end. He wanted so badly to reach out and touch her, but she and where they stood was so fragile… he’d lost that right.

But now something worse than his secrets and past had made itself known, something that had twisted him and made him _so_ blind to the light that had been in front of him… ruining his chances of finding it… _losing_ it…

Severus reached for Ariel just as her head snapped up in his direction, a decisive gleam in her eye that made him freeze and retract the gesture.

“I’m sick of not talking to you.” Ariel voice thickened, “But if I _do,_ that means I’m saying I’m okay with what you did, and I’m not.”

He waited, because if he spoke, Severus didn’t think it would end well. She needed to work things out herself before he intervened.

“I feel like I don’t know you anymore.” Ariel leaned her cheek against the fabric of the couch, eyes lowering themselves to the fire, “Or ever did, really. I don’t know who Mum and James are… I feel like all those pictures Professor McGonagall gave me are lies. It’s like I’m some big secret that no one knew about… no one _wanted_ anyone to know about… and now I’m stuck and can’t talk to anyone about it because it would just make things _worse.”_

She began to cry again, wiping her face frantically as Severus watched, feeling helpless. He fucked hated tears – he felt useless, because he didn’t know how to stop them, especially if he was the _cause._ Severus hadn’t made a student cry since 1983, when he’d learned the boundaries between discipline and shattering a child’s sense of self worth. Seeing Ariel cry because of something _he’d_ done was… agonizing.

“And he’s going to… he’s going to come for you because you betrayed him for Mum…” Ariel said, her words falling over them like a sharp, cold rain. “I don’t know how to talk to you and tell you how much that scares me because I shouldn’t _have_ to be… you shouldn’t have been one of them –”

Severus’ breathing stopped midway through her speech, his temper slowly rising at her words.

Worry about _him?_

Worry about _HIM?_

“Of all the abysmally _foolish,_ completely _irrelevant_ things to concern yourself with!” Severus snarled, grabbing her arm and pulling her over to his side of the couch, “You listen to me right now, Ariel —  your job from this moment on is going to be making sure you and your _brother_ keep far, _far_ away from the third floor corridor, because _so help me_ if something happens to you because you’re too busy worrying about _my_ wellbeing.”

“We can’t just stand by while he steals the Stone with Quirrell!” Ariel sat up on her haunches, tears still rolling down her face, but eyes flashing in a way that told him she was going to put up a fight.

“You are a _child!”_ He gripped both her arms and gave her a little shake, “What chance could you possibly have against him, Ariel? You _will_ leave this to the adults!”

“He’ll kill you!” Her eyes dimmed and swam.

“There is no world in which you or Potter die and I live that I wish to be a part of!” Severus thundered. “And that is _exactly_ what will happen if you challenge whatever is trying to steal the Stone!”

“But you betrayed him!” Ariel looked twice as terrified as she did when he’d found her at the door, “He must know… we can’t let him… I _won't…”_

“He _doesn’t_ know!” He hissed, pulling her face close to his, “Why do you think we take such precautions? Think, Ariel! If you think I won’t use every tool I can, including my cover, to ensure the downfall of a raging madman who murdered your mother and whose life goal for the past ten years has been to murder two _children,_ then perhaps you’re right in saying you don’t me well at all. It is my _job_ and a _promise_ I made to protect you and Potter, and if giving my life is a part of that, then so be it!”

Ariel flinched, falling back as the same misery he’d seen on her face a week earlier took over. She stared up at him, both their chests heaving as he felt his sudden burst of anger fall away. Her eyes were so wide and desperate, and then, they were gone as something wrapped around his sternum and clung to him as though her life depended on it.

“He already took two of my parents.” Her voice was laced with despair, like her words were the last fight she had in her, “I can’t let him take you too. Not you… even if I’m mad at you, that doesn’t mean…” 

Severus was so startled by the sudden contact that he simply just sat there for a minute, looking down at the trembling mess of red hair and muted sobs. But then instincts he’d come to accept over the years took over, and once again, Ariel was in a position that had become very familiar to the both of them.

“He’s not, you foolish child.” Severus sighed against her hair, “The Dark Lord has no reason to question my loyalties. If the day ever comes where he somehow claws his way back, he believes me to be spying on Dumbledore for him.”

“But you're not, right?” It was a childish question that made him cringe.

“No,” Severus lifted her chin, “I went to Dumbledore when I was told you and your brother were in danger. I begged the Headmaster to hide you all away, and in return, I became his spy instead of the Dark Lord’s. After… after her _death,_ I promised the Headmaster that I would protect you and continue to spy if the Dark Lord ever returned in order to keep you both safe.”

“For Mum?” Ariel asked quietly, silent tears running down her face, “You did all that for Mum? You loved her _that_ much that you’d...”

_You put her in danger,_ hissed all of his self loathing, _you killed her… after everything, no one could save her once you spoke the Prophecy to the Dark Lord… she died to save your own child…_

“I don’t want you to go back.” She sat up in his silence, grim determination setting into her face.

“That’s not your decision,” Severus sighed, “or any of your concern.”

“Whether you _live_ or _die_ because Voldemort is after Harry and I is all I’m concerned about!”

“I am not dying, Ariel.” He snapped, exasperated and a bit annoyed that she seemed to have such little faith in his abilities, “I am more than capable of taking care of myself. Anyone that tries to murder me will find that they may have taken on more than they bargained for.”

“No one’s ever stopped him before…”

“That’s right.” Severus snarled, “No one except for the two of you, and if you think for one second that I’m letting you, the _only_ thing I have left in this world, get _anywhere_ near that blasted Stone —”

Her face went blank, and then something warm filled him up as an old expression, one he hadn’t seen for quite some time presented itself on her tear-stained face. Ariel leaned against his side, her head coming to rest of his shoulder as she brought her knees to her chin.

“It’s not one sided, Dad.” Ariel whispered in a thick voice, “What am _I_ supposed to do if you get hurt because of me?”

He looked down at the child curled against him, unable to say anything for several seconds. His vocal chords seemed to have become paralyzed.

“Mum wouldn’t want this.” She added, apparently taking advantage of his lack of vocalization, “She cared about you… you don’t owe her anything.”

“I owe her everything. He’s not going to hurt you, Ariel.” Severus found his voice, running the pad of his thumb along her cheek, looking up towards the mantle —

_“Revelio.”_ He whispered.

Ariel’s head rose, looking up at him in puzzlement before scanning the room to see what item he’d cast the Charm on. He knew when she saw it, because she gasped, and then became as still as a statue.

The picture of Lily was smiling so widely that it was a wonder her face didn’t split open, or rather, that the photograph didn’t rip in half. All the longing, the anguish that Severus had seen in Lily’s eyes as she’d watched Ariel grow and play around her, not being able to see her, gone.

Ariel rose from the confines of his lap, slowly approaching the picture as though she’d never seen one of Lily before. Her hand slowly rose towards it, slipping it slowly off the mantle and looking down at it. She said nothing for a very long time. Outside, the rays of morning sun were beginning to reach into the room, as though they were trying to touch them.

“And all this time,” said Ariel, to Severus or picture-Lily, he didn’t know, “I thought I was looking at a damn boat.”

He snorted quietly, finally tearing Ariel’s eyes from the picture and back to him. They had lightened.

“Can I ask you something?” She asked, walking back to the couch slowly with the picture in her hands.

Severus nodded slowly, bracing himself.

“If you loved her, why’d you join You-Know-Who?” Ariel’s voice filled with a bitterness that also held undisguised confusion, “That’s like… it was like telling her she was right. You called her that word and then went and became a part of the people that wanted her dead…”

“I wanted the power.” Severus muttered, letting his disgust with his past choices leak into his usually steady voice, “I had no one when I left school. My parents were… well, they’d never been any use, and all my remaining friends had made plans to join the Dark Lord’s ranks. I had written to Lucius Malfoy—”

“Draco’s dad?” She made a face, “You were _friends_ with him?”

“More like colleagues.” He reassured her, “He and I kept in contact after he graduated. I began to attend recruitment meetings, eager to find a place where I’d belong. All I’d ever been told when I’d been in school was that our House had to stand together… and I foolishly listened. I thought that maybe, with the Dark Lord’s help, your mother would somehow see…”

_“See_ what? He wanted Muggleborns _dead!”_ Ariel looked horrified.

“I thought she would see…” Severus swallowed audibly, “see that I could protect her… I thought it was the only way.”

She gave him a disapproving glare, “That’s a funny way to show it.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that!” He snapped, immediately regretting it and cursing his short temper as Ariel’s eyes fell back down to Lily’s picture in hurt. “I’m sorry.” Severus rubbed his face, squeezing his eyes shut, “It’s… not a subject I discuss. It’s difficult for me to show you my reasoning.”

“I understand.” Ariel said quietly, tracing the outline of the picture frame with her thumb, “So then… how did _I_ happen?”

Severus shifted uncomfortably, causing her to look up at him questioningly. “You… saw.”

“Not the rest.”

He gave her a look. “I assumed you could figure that out for yourself.”

“Not _that_ part.” Ariel went as red as her hair. “I wouldn’t… er, _want_ to… I mean… that’s… gross.”

Severus quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Not like _that.”_ She huffed, a smirk playing on the ends of her lips. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t believe I do.”

_“Dad.”_

Severus looked away, the memory far too painful to even entertain discussing. Ariel sighed, placing the picture on the table in front of them, and went very still.

“We should make a pact.” She finally said, a calculating look on her face.

He raised an eyebrow at her, praying that that was some kind of code for something else, but her expression remained serious.

“A _pact.”_ Severus’ voice told her exactly what he thought of _that._

“Yeah,” Ariel half-glared at him, “like… a list of rules we have to keep.”

Severus rolled his eyes, “Yes, a splendid idea. Tell me, should we swear a blood vow in order to ensure that it’s never broken?”

“I’m serious!” She crossed her arms, “How else do I know you’ll keep your word?”

“Keep my word on _what,_ exactly?” He shot back, disliking the direction this was headed.

“To be nice to Harry.” Ariel said, like this was the most obvious thing in the world, “That’s the only way I’ll forgive you.”

Severus tried to ignore the burn that coursed through his throat at her words, wondering just how badly he’d broken what they’d had, “After everything I’ve told you, your sole concern still lies with how I treat the _boy?”_

“The _boy_ is my brother!” She stood up, putting her hands on her hips.

Severus’ felt his lip curl, a profanity against the boy and his father on his lips, but he swallowed it and sighed instead, a heavy sound that fell against their ears like a waterfall.

Ariel pointed straight at the picture on the table, “If you’re willing to play pretend for Voldemort, then you can be nice to Harry for Mum’s sake, if not for mine.”

Severus gave her a withering glare before he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. She was comparing spying on the Dark Lord in order to ensure his downfall to an eleven-year-old urchin.

“A _pact?”_ He repeated with a groan.

She sprang up, running off as Severus took the small moment to rub his face in exhaustion and partly horror. Had his life really come to making deals with second years? Was he really willing to go _this far…_

That was a moronic question. Of course he was. He’d realized long ago that he’d become a human shield for that girl, if need be.

“Okay,” Ariel knelt in front of the table, spreading out a sheet of parchment. She tapped the quill against it. “Rule number one is like I said already — you have to be nice to Harry.”

Severus could already feel the impending migraine this would undoubtedly bring on, “Define _nice.”_

“You can’t harass him.” Her eyes turned into accusatory slits, “No calling him out or being unreasonable. You have to treat him like he’s one of your Slytherins. _I’m_ the one in Gryffindor, remember?”

“I _apologized_ to him.” Severus crossed his arms defensively.

“That doesn’t mean anything unless you actually _try_ to stop hating him.”

“You can’t just expect me to —”

“Are you _really_ asking if you should _try_ and be _nice_ to _my brother?”_ Ariel challenged, a frown appearing on her tired face, “What would you _like_ to do? Ignore him?”

A perfect combination of the one person he’d truly loved until now and the man he’d longed to make hurt for all the pain he’d caused him… continued to cause him…

Yes, ignoring him seemed like a _perfect_ idea.

“I’m not saying you don’t have a reason to hate James.” Ariel lowered her eyes to the table, looking torn, “I… I think I’d be resentful if he’d done what he did to you. But you can’t take that out on Harry. He’s not like that. I just… want you to try and see more than just James when you look at him.”

He hated when she begged. It made Severus feel like he was denying something so much more than the simple request she was asking for. But _this,_ to willingly try and get to know to boy… 

_The boy has exactly her eyes_

“Please, Dad?” Ariel bit her bottom lip, though her eyes were wide and hopeful.

_You have your father’s eyes, you know that?_

Severus gave her a brief nod, eliciting the brightest of smiles he’d seen on her face in months. The sight made the momentary disgruntlement fade away. 

“Okay,” Ariel took a deep breath, still beaming down at the parchment as she scribbled down the words, “rule number two; no lying to each other.”

“I believe that statute is already in place.” Severus raised an eyebrow at her, “Or am I mistaken?”

She raised one right back at him, “I was thinking that this one was more in terms for _you._ I mean… they’re exceptions to it…”

“You’re absolutely right there are going to be exceptions.” He leaned forward, a scowl now upon his face, “Why are all these rules directed at _me?”_

“I’m just writing down what comes to mind first.” Ariel said lightly, leaning head elbow on the tabletop and glancing up at him, “Would you like to define the special cases, then?”

Severus crossed his arms, “I’ll keep it short — only _I_ have to ability to keep secrets —”

Ariel let out a cry of protest.

“— if they pertain to your _safety.”_ He finished, daring her to object with the strength of his glare.

“So, what?” Ariel stood up angrily, _“You_ can keep things from me, but if something _I_ know could put you in danger —”

Severus pointed to himself, snarling the word, _“Parent.”_

She mimicked his actions, _“Chosen one.”_

“You are _not_ the chosen one.” He rolled his eyes. “And neither is your brother. You are the product of fate and an extraordinary circumstance that the Dark Lord could have never foreseen, as did no one else.”

“What do you think Voldemort is going to do the second he gets his hands on the Stone?” Ariel shouted at him, “He’s coming after _us!_ That means that someday, he expects us to somehow _defeat_ him! Professor Dumbledore has always said —”

Horrified by her words, Severus pulled her in between his legs, holding her waist in place with them, and held her face with his hands.

“He’s never going to touch you, Ariel.” He grabbed her chin. “You did the right thing coming to me tonight. We can’t hope to stop him now or in the future if you keep things from me.”

She glared, “If we’re going to make this a law, then it has to be equal on both ends.”

“Oh, they’re _laws_ now, are they?”

“If you’re not going to take it seriously —”

“I take yours and Potter’s wellbeing _very_ seriously.” Severus said sharply, “Which is why later on today, I’m going to skin Filch’s cat and set fire to Hagrid’s hut.”

_“Dad.”_ There was a trace of a smirk against her frown. It seemed she didn’t realize that he’d made a serious statement.

“There’s no bargaining this, Ariel.” He said sternly, grabbing the front of her chin, “There are a great many things you cannot know. They would jeopardize your welfare.”

“Like _what?”_ She challenged.

“Nice try.” Severus rolled his eyes and released her.

“Fine,” She huffed, settling back down on the ground, “then we have to even it out.”

“How very Slytherin of you.” He drawled back.

Ariel raised her eyes to the ceiling in thought, playing with the quill in her hands. Severus was reminded of whenever he’d looked up at Lily during a test to find that she was struggling with a question, tapping her quill against her cheek the way his daughter was now.

“If I tell you something, you have to keep it between us.” She finally looked back to him, “If I tell _Dad_ something, he can’t turn into Professor Snape.”

“I wasn’t aware my alter ego was a problem.” Severus said stiffly.

“If I confide in you, you can’t use your great and mighty professor powers to make whomever and whatever's life a living hell.” Ariel clarified, giving him a meaningful look, “A very good, and very recent example, being Damon last year.”

“The boy’s mother is a raving lunatic.” He snapped, “Isn’t it just _fascinating_ how my actions continue to relate back to the fact that your _safety_ is my first priority?”

“Harry wasn’t a threat.” Her voice dared him to argue.

No, the boy hadn’t been. Severus loathed to admit it, and he would never do so out loud, but _he_ had been the one to push Ariel away. He’d watched Potter and Ariel interact during his daughter’s silence, seen the boy unsure of what to do or say as the girl desperately tried to show him how much she cared for him. Ironically, Potter had been drawn more to Weasley and Granger than his own sister, finding _their_ heads buried together more often that his and Ariel’s. Even Bellatrix’s son seemed to make Potter look more at ease.

He wouldn’t dare tell her, that, though.

“Am I allowed to add to this?” Severus changed to subject, “I’m beginning to feel that this is incredibly one-sided.”

Ariel gave him a calculated look after a short pause, “Yes.”

He reached forward, grabbing the parchment and quill with a smirk as she looked at him warily.

“The _third_ rule,” Severus said, allowing long pauses in between each word as she squirmed in anticipation, “you will tell no one of our relation.”

Ariel seemed to let out a sigh of relief, “That one’s fine. I wasn’t planning on it, you know.”

“Not even your brother.” He tested, watching her carefully. “At least… not now. Not yet.”

She bit her lip and looked away, _“Especially_ him.”

Severus watched her face crumble and marveled at it. A thrill of hope ran through him, wondering what had changed when it came to her loyalties to the boy.

“What is it?” He asked, watching her as she wiped at her eyes. She sniffled and rose, curling against his side tightly.

“Is it wrong that every since I found out…” Ariel shook her head and sighed, “Never mind. It’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not.” He ran a hand through her hair, “I’d thought you’d be eager to explain all of this to Potter.”

“Harry and I… he’s already had rotten luck.” She sounded pained, “That’s why I was so angry when you gave him a hard time his first day. To tell him that James isn’t even my father… that _you_ are and that’s why you hate him… what is there to gain? He’d hate _me._ Why do _I_ get the living parent?”

_Because your father is a coward._

“None of this was your fault, Ariel.” Severus whispered into her hair, “I was content with keeping you to myself.”

“I just feel terrible…” Her hands found one of his, tracing the lines on them lightly with her fingertips, “Ever since you showed me your memories… all I can think of is…” Her small hands tightened around his fingers, “I picture you and Mum now instead of Mum and James… and I shouldn’t because even though he was terrible to you, he still died for me. I feel like I’m an awful person for even… but you loved her so much and… and I miss her and so do you…”

Her speech cut off suddenly, giving Severus an ample opportunity to summon a vial of Dreamless Sleep wordlessly. Ariel’s eyes were searching his for his thoughts on her confession, but he would not give them. Instead, he handed her the bottle, watching silently as she reluctantly downed it.

“We still have to sign the contract.” Ariel mumbled, her voice already thick with sleep. Quite honestly, Severus was surprised she’d managed to stay awake this long, for she’d been up all night.

He gave an agreeing sound in return, both their eyes focused on the crackling fire before them before her eyelids began to droop.

When her breathing slowed and evened out, Severus pressed his lips to the top of her head, his resolve bending against personal vows made long ago. He remembered a time after school had ended when he’d tried to hate Lily, tried with all his might, to let go of his feelings and let himself fall into the darkness he so desperately wanted to escape into. But Ariel was different, because he was hers and she was his, and he’d be damned if he let that same darkness come in between him and the light again.

He thought of Potter’s green eyes and then looked down at the girl asleep in his lap.

_They say that eyes are windows to the soul_

He wondered why he’d thought Potter’s eyes instead of Lily’s.

* * *

Wait for his sister, or rush up to the Gryffindor portrait hole to grab Ron and Hermione was the question Harry asked himself as he threw on his Invisibility Cloak that morning.

He hadn’t slept a wink, images of the cloaked figure charging them haunting his thoughts every time he closed his eyes. Draco had been sitting up in bed when Harry had trudged in, a sneer and insult on his lips that Harry hadn’t heard or seen as he’d curled up in bed. It was nearly dawn when they had returned to the castle either way, and so Harry had spent the remaining two hours until breakfast lying awake and contemplating what he was to do next.

He’d asked Ariel to meet him, yes, but Ron and Hermione had to know as well. And his sister had been rather unreliable since Christmas… but this was important. This was _Voldemort._

For the first time he could remember, Harry shuddered at the name. 

He didn’t think it wise to tell Damon himself. He’d been angry all week that Ariel hadn’t been talking to him, that he was being kept out of a loop that Harry didn’t know how to include him in. Ariel was the one with the secrets, not him, save their theory about the Stone and who was trying to steal it, of course. But he didn’t think it right to tell him, or Ron and Hermione for that matter, that he’d been suspecting Snape of being the one trying to get his hands on it. He’d seen how Ariel had reacted when he’d brought it up in front of them, and when they’d inquired about it later that day, he’d waved them off.

Well, perhaps it wasn’t a theory any longer. Voldemort was _definitely_ in the Forest, and someone was _most definitely_ trying to steal it for him. Whether it was Quirrell or Snape was the real problem now.

_Leave it alone_

Did Snape already know something darker was going on? Or was he the part that put everything at stake?

But then he remembered.

Ariel.

_That_ was the part that frustrated Harry to no end. With what his sister had told him last night about the real reason her father didn’t like him made his insides curl. Harry’s suspicions were only becoming more and more scattered. If anything, he felt _farther_ away from solving the mystery and making sure the Stone didn’t end up in the wrong hands.

Snape was still a git, whether he was after the bloody Stone or trying to protect it. How could a man who so much as _blinked_ at some first years in order to make them cry feel _threatened_ by him? If anything, Harry had wanted… he’d…

It was a stupid thought now, anyways, whether Snape had meant his apology or not.

The day brought with it another blizzard, it seemed. Harry silently thanked Merlin that it had decided to hold off until this morning, for he could only imagine how disastrous it could have gone last night if they’d been stuck in the middle of a storm. He slid past the stone wall that led out of the Slytherin common room, and quickly made his way up to the Great Hall under the cover of his father’s cloak. A few of the early morning risers were already making their way in for breakfast, but Harry didn’t see Ron and Hermione among them.

Or his sister, who’d promised him she’d meet him. Surely she couldn’t have fallen asleep after what had happened.

Harry dashed up the stairs two at a time, scanning left and right. Hermione and Ron had known he’d had detention — if Ariel _had_ fallen asleep, they’d wake her, or at least, they’d be up earlier to come and meet him. And then Harry could tell them to go and get his sister.

They were climbing out of the common room just as Harry reached the final landing, sighing in relief. He uncloaked himself, hurrying towards his friends as they exchanged a look he couldn’t read.

“Where’s Ariel?” Harry demanded, looking up at the Fat Lady expectantly, as if she was concealing her.

Hermione shook her head and bit her lip, “She didn’t come back up to bed again… I waited up again. She wasn’t in the common room either. Didn’t you see where she went we you both came back?”

Harry blinked, not believing that he’d heard her correctly, “Didn’t come back? Are you sure?”

“Harry, I checked her bed.” Hermione sighed, “She wasn’t there, but are you really all that surprised? She’s been acting strange all week. I really think she should go and see Madam Pomfrey.”

“I’m sorry, mate.” Ron offered, looking glum, “Are you alright? How was the detention with Malfoy?”

He turned away from them, fighting the stinging in his eyes and the lump in his throat. Ariel had seen… had _felt_ what had happened when Voldemort had come at them last night. Surely whatever was happening with her right now could hold off until they figured out what to do about the _madman who had murdered their parents._

Which also raised the question of where Ariel was, and that question had been answered already when she’d gone missing at Christmas.

Which meant

she’d gone

to _Snape’s_ quarters.

“C’mon,” Harry muttered, jerking his head in the direction of the stairs and ignoring their worried looks, “I have to tell you guys something.”

A story later, the three of them were headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast, grim-faced and pale. Hermione had wanted to go right then and there and find Ariel to make sure she was alright, but Harry had shaken his head, not understanding the burning in his chest. They sat down at the Gryffindor table, the normal students who had glared at the Slytherin invaders at the start of the year not bothering to even look up anymore.

Snape was at the High Table, but not in his usual spot. He was sitting right next to Dumbledore this morning, both their heads bowed together and talking intently. Dumbledore's face was still bright as always, but something was off. Ron and Hermione were still deathly pale.

Just as Harry turned to them to whisper that they were probably talking about what happened last night, a flash of dark robes sat down next to him, accompanied by a scowl.

“Let me guess,” Damon looked angry, causing those surrounding him to inch away, “she’s missing… _again.”_

“Did you expect anything different?” Harry asked tonelessly, “There’s no point in looking. She obviously doesn’t want to be found.”

“Has she said anything to you, Harry?” Ron asked as Damon began clawing away at an orange, “Did you get a chance to talk last night?”

“I highly doubt they had _time_ to with what happened!” Hermione hissed at him.

“With what?” Damon looked up expectantly, “What happened? Was it Draco?”

Harry shook his head, picking away at his eggs, “Worse.”

“Snape again?”

The three first years exchanged a look as Damon’s own darkened, “Fine!” He growled, “Don’t tell me. I’ll figure it out for myself.”

The heavy feeling inside his chest was the only thing to keep Harry from reaching out and telling him to wait, but after telling Ron and Hermione, he didn’t think he could bear to relay last night’s events again. Just because Ariel had somewhere to hide away didn’t mean she _should._ He’d let her tell Damon, and he had a feeling that he was going to be a lot less understanding than Ron and Hermione were being. He could only imagine how mad he’d go if Ron started acting like this.

Somehow, that thought didn’t make him feel any better.

“Oi, Potter!” Harry whirled around to find Marcus Flint, one of the Slytherin prefects, looking down at him. His eyes were glancing between him and the Gryffindors that were shooting him particularly nasty looks. Harry and Damon had been hailed as regulars now, but not any other Slytherins.

He glanced up at him with a bored expression, really not in the mood to deal with anyone right now.

“I’ve got orders to take you to the Quidditch pitch once this weather lets up.” Flint looked annoyed by this, tapping his foot impatiently as Harry blinked up at him uncomprehendingly.

_“Quidditch?”_ Hermione spoke instead, “But first years aren’t even allowed to bring a _broom,_ let alone play Quidditch!”

“You think I don’t know that?” Flint snapped at her, making Hermione blush, “Listen, Professor Snape’s just asked me to see where you’d fit best on the team, alright? This wasn’t _my_ idea.”

_“Snape?”_ Harry and Ron choked out simultaneously.

“No, _Sprout_ asked me to let you try out for the Slytherin team.” Flint rolled his eyes, “Snape thinks you’ll make a good Seeker, even though we already bloody _have_ one, but if he’s willing to bend school rules for you…”

“What?” Harry bleated, looking between Ron and Hermione wildly for answers. They simply stared back, wide eyed, “W-why the heck does he want _me?”_

“I don’t know.” Flint gave him a curious look, “He hasn’t mentioned this to you? His mind was already made up when he came up to me this morning.”

“No!” He looked around, alarmed. The man must be setting him up to fall from some ridiculous height and break his neck. _Then_ he could have Ariel all to himself.

“Relax, Potter.” Flint clapped him on the back, “We’ll see how you do. If you’re that bad, I’ll just tell Snape you’re not ready, but from the way he ordered me to test you out, he made it sound like you’d be a brilliant asset.”

Harry turned back to his friends slowly, wide eyed and shaky.

“Well,” Ron gave him a sympathetic look, “it’s a good thing you're a natural born flyer.”

* * *

When Ariel’s eyes finally cracked upon, the first thing she noticed was that there was a lack of Severus. She jolted upright, calling out a _Dad?_ before she realized that he’d probably left for the day already. Looking around, Ariel found that the fire was still blazing in the hearth, but the light that been filtering through this morning was gone, now, nothing but a thick darkness threatening to cover the room. It had to be late afternoon or early evening by now —

_Harry._

She threw the blanket that’d be tossed over her to the floor, skittering about to find her boots. How could she have done this _again?_ He was probably terrified still… needed reassurance that they were safe within Hogwarts and for her to be ready so that they can plan what they were to do about it –

Dammit dammit _DAMMIT!_

Ariel flew from her father’s quarters, skidding around several corners before she spotted the light that led up to the main floor.

“What’re _you_ doing down here?” an annoyed voice called sharply, jerking her to a halt.

It was Damon, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, like he’d been waiting there for some time. Her blue eyes were narrowed, an air of suspicion around him that Ariel had not the patience nor the time to deal with right now.

“I’m...” Ariel paused, “I’m looking for my brother.”

“Funny, he said something similar at breakfast.” Damon gave her an expectant look, “When you didn’t show – _again.”_

Ariel looked down, ashamed, “I know. I fell asleep in my dad’s rooms –”

“You had detention with Harry last night, didn’t you? For Hexing Draco?” His voice was knowing, making her squirm.

“Yes, but something’s happened —”

“If you keep going missing after seeing Snape, it’s only going to make Harry more suspicious.” Damon snapped, “Try to think of others for once before you disappear again.”

“Excuse me?” Ariel raised in incredulous eyebrow, “Since when are you my keeper?”

“I’m not your keeper,” His eyes glittered coldly, “I thought I was your friend.”

“Really?” She threw over her shoulder as she turned on her heel. “Because I’m pretty sure friends don’t act like this.”

“What is _wrong_ with you?” Damon shouted suddenly, making Ariel jump and spin back around.

“What’s wrong with _me?”_ She gave a humorless laugh, “You’re the one waiting around corners to catch me! You’re acting like I’m doing something deliberate!”

“You won’t talk to anyone! Harry is worried and scared… Hermione thinks you’re sick or something… Ron doesn’t know what to do… and I’m…” He looked away.

“I have a lot to deal with right now, Damon.” Ariel snapped, “Back off, alright?”

He looked startled by her words, unfolding his arms so that they hung at his sides. His eyes lost of a bit of their shine.

“You told me everything last year.” Damon mumbled, “Between Harry and Snape, we talked about it. But now… if something is happening and you don’t want to let Harry know because you don’t want to upset him, I get it. But… don’t avoid _me._ Don’t be my friend one year and then drop me.”

“Damon,” Ariel said in a very calm voice, “I am trying to deal with a homicidal maniac lurking outside the school, a scared and probably angry little brother, and my father, who is a different matter entirely. Give me a _break.”_

“What the hell are you talking about?” He looked around, bewildered, “What the hell is going on with you and Snape? Why do you keep sneaking off to see him? I thought you were staying away until he decided he was going to stop being awful to Harry?”

She took a deep breath, “He’s… he thought Harry would somehow come in between us, alright? Because he’s _my_ dad and not Harry’s. I’m dealing with it.”

“But he’s not your father either.” Damon looked at her strangely, “At least, not biologically…”

Ariel hesitated, trying to formulate the words to explain this as Damon’s eyes began to widen in dawning realization. She opened her mouth to assure him to that the conclusion he’d incorrectly _(correctly, one hundred and ten percent right, spot on, unerringly)_ come to was wrong, but the longer she waited, the more she realized that she couldn’t.

Damon made a noise that sounded a lot like he was choking.

“Shut _up!”_ Ariel hissed, throwing a hand over his mouth as she dragged him down the corridor, jutting her head out to make sure no one was around, “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that…”

Gods, it hadn’t been five minutes since she’d woken up and she’d broken one of the three rules that had been _her_ bloody idea to write up in the first place.

“Y-you’re…” Damon was sputtering incoherently, “Snape is your, he’s — that’s _impossible!”_

“Damon.” She gripped both sides of his face tightly, “You’re going to listen to me, because I swear to Merlin if you don’t, I will Obliviate you before you have time to even blink.”

“Ariel, I —”

“Don’t speak. Nod yes or no.”

He nodded, all traces of hurt and fury gone from his face, leaving behind shock and a trace of fear.

Ariel swallowed loudly and tried to channel all of that Gryffindor courage she was supposed to have, “I didn’t understand why he was treating Harry so terribly, and Dad let it slip. It’s complicated and we are _not_ going to discuss it now, or ever, or even _remotely_ entertain the idea of Harry knowing. If my father finds out you know, he is going to lock me in the dungeons until I graduate and _you_ might as well feed yourself to the giant squid. And, as if all of this wasn’t enough, You-Know-Who is in the Forest and waiting on Quirrell to steal the Stone. Do you know how I know that?”

Damon shook his head silently.

“Because Harry and I came face to face with him last night.” She took a deep breath, “You’re not supposed to know, and I’m an idiot for letting it slip, but quite honestly, keeping this all to myself makes me feel like I’m going to split in two. So you will _stop_ jumping out at me behind walls and _stop_ screaming at me because I am _trying,_ alright? I need my best friend to trust me, because I am trusting _you_ with this monumental, really, _really_ scary secret that could get my father killed if people found out.”

“Alright, _alright!”_ He gasped, “I get it. But Ariel —”

“No!” She raised a finger to his lips, “No talking about it! _Ever!”_

_“Ariel —”_

“I’m going to find Harry. Feel free to act as though nothing is wrong.” She ducked around him, dodging his outreached hand.

“Ariel – shit – Ariel, hold _on!”_ Damon panted. “What’re you going to tell Harry?”

“I’m going to tell him Quirrell is trying to resurrect the Dark Lord!’

“But… what about –”

“I said _no talking_ about it, Damon!”

“But you can’t just – shit, Ariel, slow _down!”_

Just as she rounded the corner, Ariel locked eyes with the person she’d been looking for.

She could tell by the way Harry was standing that he’d been pressed up against the wall, listening, but for how long, she couldn’t tell.

“Harry!” Ariel breathed, “I’m so sorry – I feel asleep, but I –”

“What did Damon mean?” Harry interrupted, his face wary. “What happened?”

Her mouth went very dry. “Harry… Severus isn’t after the Stone –”

“No, not that.” His hands balled at his sides. “The _other_ thing you didn’t want to tell me.”

Ariel felt paralyzed, like she’d been Stunned. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything – she didn’t know _what_ to say to convince him she wasn’t… but she _was…_

Damon’s eyes were darting between the two of them. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Harry looked at her, despair in his eyes, but a coldness in his face, and walked away.


	29. Mind Over Matter

“Did you know?”

Dumbledore was not in his usual spot behind the desk lined with trinkets and baubles alike, but looking out upon his balcony as the remaining snowflakes that had taken the school by storm fell from the clouds.

“No.” His eyes closed in what appeared to be deep thought. “I had my suspicions, of course, but nothing like this. They’re certain that it was Riddle?”

“That _is_ what the centaurs implied.” Severus sneered, gripping the back of one of the wooden chairs in front of the Headmaster’s desk, “I wouldn’t have believed it myself if Ariel hadn’t mentioned their scars.”

“I’ll go to the Ministry soon, then.” Dumbledore murmured, almost to himself, “Nicolas and I must decide what is to be done with the Stone if such a danger is truly just outside these walls.”

“And in the meantime?” Severus demanded, “Measures need to be taken, Albus.”

“Riddle cannot hope to enter the school as long as I am Headmaster.” He removed his half-moon spectacles and rubbed his eyes tiredly, “Nothing that would jeopardize the lives of _any_ of the children here can.”

“He could have _killed them!”_ Severus snarled, “If it was truly the Dark Lord that they came face to face with —”

“What more would you have me do, Severus?” Dumbledore asked in a worn voice.

“Get that blasted Stone out of here!” He threw himself from the back of the chair, “Reinforce the wards!”

“I can do nothing with the Stone until Nicolas has asked it of me. If Quirrell is truly assisting Riddle, then there is no use in reinforcing the wards. He _can’t_ break through them, my friend. He is not nearly powerful enough even if Hogwarts were to have some kind of weakness in its defenses.” His voice supplied answers, but all Severus heard was _you know this already._

His lip curled, but he did not argue further, knowing it was useless. Dumbledore had always been confident in his abilities, had always reassured Severus that no harm could come to either of them so long as he was around to make sure of it. He’d reassured him the same thing when it had come to Lily all those years ago… and now…

“Ariel’s mind has not wandered since last year?” Dumbledore finally peered back at him.

“She Occludes every night.” Severus replied stiffly, still bristling, “As far as I know, it hasn’t happened since we went to get Potter.”

“Interesting,” He mused aloud, “that being exposed to Riddle would elicit such a response from the both of them.”

“There’s nothing _interesting_ about it!” Severus snapped, rushing forward with a billow of black robes just as Dumbledore fully turned.

The old man sighed, “I meant nothing of it, Severus, only that —”

“If anything, and I mean so much as a _hair,_ happens to them because you overlooked something in your _arrogance —”_

“No harm will come to Ariel and Harry Potter while they reside within these walls.” His tone turned serious, the lines in his face deepening.

“We could search the Forest.” Severus tried, his anger slowly crescendoing. He couldn’t be this _useless._ He couldn’t just sit around and assure the girl that everything was fine when it _wasn’t_ because the Dark Lord was _just outside —_

“He will have concealed himself by now… taken precautions in case he suspects they may have told someone.” Dumbledore gave him a sympathetic look as he migrated to his desk chair, “I know, my boy, that it must make you feel helpless —”

“You’ve no idea what it feels like!” He rumbled, leaning against the very window frame Dumbledore himself he’d just been standing by, “When Ariel came to me last night, I could only assure her that I would do everything in my power to make sure they weren’t hurt. There is nothing _I_ can do until he returns, but until then, I can only offer _words_ to them, Albus. _Words!_ As though something so simple can soothe her fears!”

“For a child, that is the very thing they need.”

“Not if the Dark Lord gets his hands on that fucking Stone.” Severus snapped, “Then how much will words do for them?”

 _“Them?”_ The Headmaster looked surprised, a small smiling twisting his thin lips, “Have you been speaking to Harry as well?”

He scowled and looked away, “Don’t start with this, Albus. The boy is the least of our problems at the moment.”

“Ah, but in the midst of it all,” Dumbledore gave him a look, “you thought to put his talents to use and give the boy a chance to discover himself.”

“It was simply a means to give Potter something to do other than stick his nose into business that will get him killed.” Severus kneaded his forehead forcefully and tried to fight the voice that told him he was going to make a monster if Potter turned out to be as talented on a broom as his late father had been. He’d watched several of the brat’s flying lessons — Hooch had been over the moon over how gifted the boy seemed to be, and Malfoy had left each class looking like he’d had a bucket of ice water dumped over his head.

“You put the boy on the Quidditch team.” that familiar, infuriating sparkle returned to Dumbledore’s eyes, “Tell me, was this before of Ariel’s urging, or an idea of your own?”

It had been a combination of a sleepless night and a momentary lapse sound mind, more like.

“Both.” Severus said flatly, “Ariel demanded I show the boy some kindness. It was the only thing I could do without addressing him directly.”

“Demanded, did she?” Dumbledore chuckled and leaned back in his seat.

“This is irrelevant!” He scowled. “The boy won’t live to _see_ his first Quidditch game if something happens to him because of your lack of concern!”

“You’ve spoken to Ariel again, I presume?” The Headmaster looked at him curiously, ignoring Severus like he hadn't heard him, “I’ve noticed her absent for several meals.”

“She needed time to process.” Severus sighed, defeated and wishing he could leave instead now. He needed to speak to Quirrell again, make him squirm enough so that he could gather _something_ of use out of him.

“And you watched the memory I gave you?”

“We’re _not_ discussing this.” His hands balled furiously at his sides, “If you have nothing more to offer in the case of the Dark Lord, I’ll bid you a good evening, then. I have a child to check up on.”

“Ah, so you did?” Dumbledore’s eyes were sparkling.

“Goodnight, Albus.” He growled, turning on his heel and exiting the Headmaster’s office before things were touched that shouldn’t have been.

He hadn’t seen Ariel since he’d laid her down after he’d given her the Dreamless Sleep. Following the events of the Forest, Severus had set to finding Filch, who had practically run down a pack of fourth years at the sight on the potions master. He’d glowered after the retreating figure, far too tired to purse at the moment, but he was a patient man, after all.

And then he’d gone to speak to Flint about Potter, and it had all gone downhill from there.

Severus could see just how badly his demeanor towards Potter was tearing the girl apart. He could see how confused it was making Potter himself. He’d no such intentions to _try and get to know the boy,_ as Ariel had put it, but putting Potter on the Quidditch team would kill two birds with one stone. It would satisfy that bloody contract he’d been conned into _and_ distract the little cretin from the Stone.

Potter _suspected_ Severus. He nearly snorted at the thought.

When Severus finally retired to his quarters for the evening, he found that Ariel was awake. She was pacing, cheeks rosy and the tip of her nose rosy from the cold. Her scarlet hair hung around her face in messy curls, making her look quite disheveled. She must have left in his absence.

“I expected you to sleep longer.” Severus frowned, feeling his nerves twitch at the idea of her leaving the safety of his quarters, but knowing he couldn’t deny her freedom — or at least, not _yet._

“I had to go and see Harry.” Ariel said, her breathing labored, “I promised I’d go and see him this morning but… after you gave me the potion… I can’t believe I just _forgot…”_

“You can hardly blame yourself.” Severus continued to watch her as she walked the length of his desk, back and forth, “It was a tiring night.”

“But he doesn’t know that.” She shook her head, “He doesn’t know _any_ of this and I don’t know how to explain where I’ve been to him. He’s not an idiot — he knows _something_ is going on.”

“You don’t owe him an explanation either.” He frowned, starting to feel the familiar pang of guilt at her lost expression.

“But I _do!”_ Ariel cried, “I made a promise to him and I’ve broken it… hell, I’m breaking it right now! But _we’ve_ made a promise too and _our_ promise can't happen unless Harry thinks we don’t _have_ one and I…” she looked down at the floor, dejected.

“Child, you’re overthinking this…” Severus reached for her, but she recoiled.

“I forgive you,” Ariel rasped, looking up at him with a face full of a distant cry and glimmer of confidence he’d barely caught, “but now you need to earn Harry’s trust.”

With a last longing look for him, she gathered her cloak around her, and left.

“Well how am I supposed to do _that?”_ Severus wondered aloud, stifling the urge to bury his face in his hands.

He wondered how she could possibly forgive him.

She was a product of something wonderful and terrible. Light and dark. Day and night. White and black. As he sat down behind his desk, massaging his forehead, he wondered if Lily had discovered that before she had died.

Ariel had been different, though Severus had liked to believe that she was Lily’s daughter through and through. She saw the ugly bits of him at times, saw his anger and misery and anguish leaking through when he could no longer keep his facade masked from her and she pushed. It was like if she kept digging and clawing and preserving, Ariel was convinced she’d find something wonderful hidden underneath. Hell, she was acting like that _now._

Lily had never done that — she’d run. They had argued and bickered and shouted until Lily would leave the scene in tears or too angry to speak, and then he would go after her.

Ariel went after _him._

No, Lily hadn’t realized that. Severus wondered, with a painful pang shooting through his chest, that if she’d lived long enough, if she would have one day known the darkness and light lay within everyone. His had frightened her, and she’d hidden hers, acted as though it didn’t exist.

But Ariel did. She could forgive him because somehow, she understood, saw something in him that gave her a reason to persevere. That girl, that _foolish,_ foolhardy, unpredictable, beautiful, reckless —

But Ariel didn’t realize that she was the only part of him that was good, that she was the shining center that he kept hidden under the layers of Occlusion and bitterness and self loathing. Without her, he was nothing more than the faded mark on his forearm.

_He’ll kill you!_

_I won’t let him._

Yes, above everything, Ariel was ignorant of the danger that lurked. To think that she somehow had any kind of power that could possibly put of a layer of protection against herself or her brother and the Dark Lord was a dangerous notion. Not even Severus could promise that… he could only try, do what he did best and lie and pray that Albus knew what he was doing the second time around. He would give his life for those children, those meddling children who had been thrust into a world that expected and took too much from them.

And that thought terrified Severus beyond all else, even more so than the prospect of that damn boy.

* * *

“Harry, you have to talk to me.”

A head of raven black hair continued to scribble his Transfiguration essay, as though his sister _hadn’t_ been trying to get his attention for the past ten minutes.

_“Harry.”_

The sound of his quill scratching against the parchment was her only response.

It was maddening to not know Harry was thinking. Granted, he hadn’t been one to express his feelings, but not knowing what he had and hadn’t heard was grating away at Ariel like something corrosive. She’d already broken two of the bloody rules that had been _her_ idea to write up in the first place ( _number one,_ telling no one Severus was her father, _number two,_ telling said father that everything was fine when it certainly wasn’t).

Ariel had dashed after Harry after seeing him last night, a brand new sense of fear filling her up as she’d found herself face to face with a stone wall. The Slytherin common room door lay beyond it, but Ariel didn’t dare try and enter it. It was one thing for her to sit among them at meals, but to actually enter their territory was something different entirely. Not to mention that Ariel would have to explain to her father why or how she’d broken into the Slytherin common room.

And then she’d grabbed Damon, pushing him forward and demanding he talk to her brother before he’d ever had a chance to close his mouth, which was still hanging open from her outburst, and sat outside waiting for nearly an hour afterwards.

 _“He doesn’t know.”_ Damon had breathed into her ear at breakfast the next morning, just as she looked up to the High Table to find her father watching them with hawk eyes. She’d returned to Gryffindor Tower that night instead of his quarters.

She didn’t _think_ Harry had overheard much, because if he’d heard the bit she’d admitted to Damon, she was quite sure he’d be acting quite differently.

(She needed to know before she lost it)

“Harry, I’m _sorry!”_ Ariel sighed, falling into the chair across from him. A table of Ravenclaws were still continuing to give her particularly nasty looks, very much unlike her brother, who had yet to even acknowledge her presence.

Harry was now crossing out a sentence that had to do with the theory of levitation.

“Someone needed to know what happened.” Ariel spoke in a low voice and leaned across the table, “If Voldemort really _is_ in the Forest —”

 _“If?”_ Harry’s voice was like something sharp being flung through the dark, green eyes lifting themselves from his assignment angrily. “Snape really got to you then, huh?”

“What are you _talking_ about?” Ariel’s eyes widened in confusion, “Harry, this is bigger than you or me. I _had_ to tell him!”

“If he’s the one after the Stone, then you’ve just told him he’s running out of time!” His eyes glittered angrily, slamming the textbook open beside him shut, “And I would have bloody _told you_ that if you’d bothered to show up the other morning. Like you _promised.”_

“He is _not_ after it!” She hissed back, feeling herself cringe at the very thought, “Harry, he is _trying_ to stop Quirrell before he does anything!”

“Quirrell jumps at his own shadow!” He scoffed, “You really think for a second that _he’s_ helping Voldemort?”

Ariel stood, leaning across the table so that they were practically nose to nose, “You listen to me right now, Harry Potter. Yes, my father has been acting unreasonable and terrible and horrid when it comes to you, but there is _no way in hell_ that he is trying to steal that Stone for Voldemort.”

“So then why does he keep cornering Quirrell?” Harry challenged, “Why do you keep going missing for days? On Christmas, when the both of us saw Snape and Quirrell, why didn’t I see you all that week? You were with him, weren’t you?”

“I was getting _answers!”_ Ariel said in a desperate voice, fighting the voice that screamed the truth in the back of her head, “I was trying to find out why he’s been so nasty to you! We haven’t talked in _months!”_

“And his excuse doesn’t make _sense!”_ Harry rose from his seat too — the table of Ravenclaws had gone silent. “Do you know why he feels _threatened?_ Because he knows I suspect him!”

“No he _doesn’t!”_ She growled, “He’s raised me for the past ten years — do you _really_ think he would hand the Stone over to the man who’ll kill us the second he gets it?”

“So then why does he think I’m the enemy here?” Harry demanded, pointing to himself, “I didn’t ask for you to come and rescue me! I didn’t even _know!”_

_James it’s because of James James James_

Ariel didn’t answer. She fell back into her seat and buried her face in her hands.

“He hates me and you know why!” Harry snapped, “I heard you talking to Damon the other night! You’ve been going to meet him behind my back! You _know_ something!”

“What did you hear?” Ariel’s heartbeat quickened, her palms sweating as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“I heard him say you couldn’t tell me something.” His eyes flashed, “I thought you were going to stick by me? What happened to second chances?”

The oppressive weight that had been pressing against her ribcage lightened. The sunlight filtering through the windows didn’t seem to hurt as much, either.

_He didn’t know_

Well, she’d still broken two rules. Bugger.

“I’m trying to figure it out, Harry.” Ariel said quietly, “I’m want him to make things right.”

_He hates your father Severus is my father what do you want me to do I can’t take sides anymore_

“I don’t need you to act on my behalf!” Harry’s green eyes had gone dark, an evergreen deeper than the trees just outside, “And if you’re keeping secrets from me, then —”

“I’m _not!”_ Ariel cried, frustrated, “Harry, I’ve told you what I know, alright? I can’t understand his reasoning anymore than you can. I just…”

_He loved Mum and hated James and you’re everything that makes him look so miserable all the time and he wants to protects you and hates you for it and I can’t tell you because you’ll hate me_

“I have practice.” He interrupted, his seat screeching loudly against the stone floor, “So if you’ll _excuse me…”_

“Practice?” She leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms, “For what?”

“Quidditch.” Harry gave her a glare that told her that he didn’t believe the look of disbelief that flashed across her face for a second, “Don’t act like you didn’t make Snape put me on the team.”

“He put you on the _team?”_ Ariel’s eyes widened, _“When?”_

“You _know_ when.” He stood, tucking the book under his arm.

“Harry I…” Her head spun at the idea of this possibility.

Since when did her father give a damn about _Quidditch?_ It was true that every year he’d watched the matches in the hopes he would be able to claim the House Cup and spend the better part of the following year holding it over McGonagall’s head, but he’d never been one to interfere with the team itself. He left that to the captains… he _hated_ Quidditch, if anything.

“He’s probably going to try and make a fool out of me.” Harry gave a cold shrug.

“No, he’s not!” Ariel stood and grabbed his shoulder, “This is great! Dad was a fantastic player — he was a Keeper! Hermione’s told me you’re the best flyer in your year… you could be —”

“Yeah, well that won’t matter if I lose a game for Slytherin. Flint wants me to play in the next game.” His gaze had dropped to the floor, looking nervous and angry.

“You’ll be brilliant.” She tried to reassure him, but Harry tore away and stalked out of the library instead, head low and boots hitting the floor with a loud _smack_ as he stomped away.

Ariel fell back into her chair and groaned, burying her face in her arms. The table of Ravenclaws began to whisper again. Ariel shot them a look and they ducked their heads together before getting up to leave, their noses pointed in the air as they passed by her.

Emotional turmoil was starting to get very old. How was it that she’d gone from being the ignorer to the _ignore-e?_ Had this been how Severus had felt — utterly helpless and useless and guilt ridden?

Well, that was different. Severus had deserved her silence… kind of.

_I heard him yelling for hours_

Ariel took _that_ thought and threw it across the room and out the bloody window, because she wasn’t going to touch the subject of who her father was until all the layers of _Dad_ and _Professor Snape_ for a very long time.

She was only trying to protect Harry, but _he_ obviously didn’t see that. He couldn’t. How was he supposed to know that Ariel was trying to preserve the memory of James for him? He’d been a good man, a good _father._ What he’d done to Severus had been vicious and vile, but Ariel couldn’t possibly hold that against him any longer. It angered her somewhere deep in her bones, but she couldn’t… _dwell,_ like Severus did. James was _dead,_ after all, and what good was it to hold a grudge against a dead man?

_Tell that to your father_

“Will you shut it?” Ariel snapped to herself, letting out a second groan.

She owed a lot to Harry — he deserved to enjoy his years here and to be happy. He didn’t need all the baggage Ariel had. He wouldn’t want it... or _her,_ if he ever learned of it, and she was damn sure going to make sure that wouldn’t happen. The other night had been such a close call… she was so _stupid…_

Severus needed this, too. Ariel had watched his eyes, watched how the shadows had all but taken root there and pulled him somewhere dark and terrible. She saw the boy that had collapsed upon himself after he’d shouted Mudblood at Lily, saw how it pained him to speak of it at all. Ariel heard the raw, silent plea in his voice. It scratched against her ears like nails on a chalkboard and made her heartstrings twist around themselves, pulling until she was numb.

No, she wouldn’t force her father to talk about Lily, or James, for that matter. They were gone, but Harry wasn’t, and he would never know.

 _Tell that to Damon,_ the voice sang.

“I hate you.” Ariel told it aloud.

She sighed deeply, twisting her hands together as she tried to find something better to focus on until she came up with a plan to get Harry to speak to her again.

He father had put her brother on the Quidditch team. Something that had made _James_ who he was. A talent Ariel had wanted, but had realized rather quickly she’d never possess. Her first Flying lesson, she’d crashed into a bush.

Ariel smiled into her hands, not exactly knowing why.

Just as she was about to retire to Gryffindor Tower for the rest of the day, unsettled and thoroughly drained, a folded piece of paper materialized in front of her with a hiss, smoke floating up towards the ceiling. Ariel gave it a bored sort of look for a second before reaching for it, immediately recognizing Damon’s handwriting.

_We need to talk. Meet me at the rock. The rhyming was unintentional._

Ariel rolled his eyes as she crushed the note and tucked it into his robes, stalking out of the library with a nasty scowl from Madam Pince to send her on her way.

Walking through the grounds, the weather had warmed just a bit, though the cold was still enough to make her wrap her cloak around her tightly. Ariel wondered why Damon had chosen to meet at the rock of all places in the middle of January, but then again, she’d spent her days after her father’s confession at that very spot. The cold had felt good then, though. It did nothing for her now.

Damon was facing away from her as she approached, a thick, black cloak covering his body and the mess of hair atop his head.

“What is it, Damon?” Ariel asked tiredly, running a hand through her knotty hair.

He turned around, a small smirk making his blue eyes lighten as he patted the empty spot beside him.

“It’s cold.” She complained, but sat down beside him, “Couldn’t we have met _inside_ the castle?”

“Not nearly safe enough for super secret secret meetings.” said Damon, leaning back on his hands and looking out over the expanse, “Then again, we wouldn’t want another Harry incident, now would we?”

Ariel scowled, but sighed at his knowing look, “What do you want?”

“I wanted to talk about what you said the other night.” Damon said nonchalantly, twisting a blade of frozen glass in his fingers as he inspected it.

She raised an eyebrow, “Are we? Because I remember saying that it would _never_ be discussed.”

“You can’t tell me something that big and expect me to never speak of it again.” He rolled his eyes, “It kept me up half the night, besides Higgs snoring.”

“How unfortunate that my life being a lie interrupts your beauty sleep.” Ariel said, flicking the grass out of his grip and making him frown.

“You sound like him.” Damon made a face.

“Take it back.” She growled, “It’s not funny.”

“On the contrary, I don’t think any of this is funny.” He said seriously, looking her straight in the eye, “Harry thinks you know the real reason Snape hates him, and since you _do_ and won’t tell him, he’s not speaking to me either.”

“It’s not that simple.” Ariel wrapped her arms around herself, “He’s better off not knowing. It’s… not pretty. I wish _I_ didn’t know.”

“I can tell. You didn’t talk to anyone for five days because of it.”

“That wasn’t intentional, you know.” She whispered, remembering how wonderful the cold had felt then, how she yearned to be distracted, and yet, hadn’t been able to approach anyone. "I'm... really sorry for how I've been treating you. I should have told you I just wanted to be alone."

Damon waited quietly then, watching her with a softness in his eyes she’d never seen before. It made her feel warm, like it _hadn’t_ been the biggest mistake on the planet to tell him her secret.

“Have you ever been underwater for too long?” Ariel asked him, lowering her eyes to her boots, “You get that feeling a couple of seconds in… that discomfort that makes you kind of float for a moment… feeling the ache spread a bit. And then, when it gets to be too much, when you know you can’t least another second, you kick and break the surface and that first breath feels good, because then the hurt goes away and all that's left is the memory of it. You want to try again right after and you do… you just keep diving until you’re exhausted and tired of testing yourself?”

Damon nodded, though he looked puzzled.

“That’s how I felt when my father told me.” She swallowed loudly and tried to ignore the terrible tightening in her heart and in her chest, “It wasn’t just _one_ thing… there was a whole story to go along with it. Everyone time I resurfaced, tried to breath again, another thought would just drag me down. There was so much… so much I didn’t know and I feel like I should have. Dad was trying to protect me… and maybe if he hadn’t been such a git to Harry I could have dealt with it better… but he’s _wrong.”_

“What’s his reasoning, then?” Damon pried, but with a genuine concern that made her mouth move before her brain.

“He hated James.” Ariel watched as her breath floated away with each word in the January air, “But he was in love with my mum.”

The wind answered her, sending a flurry of fallen snow across the expanse that lay in front of them. She watched it, trying to follow a single flurry to concentrate on, but finding that she couldn’t. There was simply too much flying about.

“I’m not going to tell anyone, you know.” Damon said after a very long time, “And it’s not just because I’m afraid of what Snape will do — which I am. I see _why_ you can’t talk to your brother yet. I wouldn’t know how to either.”

“I feel like I’m betraying him.” Ariel mumbled, mostly to herself, “After ten years apart we finally get a chance, and now I feel even farther from him now than I did before.”

“You didn't ask to be redefined.”

“Neither did he.”

Ariel climbed to her feet at this, shaking the snow that clung to her cloak off as Damon gave her a questioning look.

“Did you know he made the Quidditch team halfway through the season?” She asked him.

Damon blinked, “No. How?”

She didn’t answer, but set off in the direction of a place she hadn’t ever really gone voluntary since the end of last year. Damon followed behind her silently.

Ariel could see several Slytherins flying off in the distance as she approached the Quidditch pitch, an easily recognizable vibrating golden ball shooting up over their heads and into the clouds

She stared up at the sky, watching as her brother broke through the clouds and back down into her view, a smile so bright that it nearly blinded, golden snitch in hand.

“You’d be proud, James.” Ariel murmured to herself, turning away as Harry landed, “He got the good genes, apparently.”


	30. Icarus

Harry’s first Quidditch game took place on quite possibly the oddest day of Ariel’s life.

It began how every other day usually did — with someone waking her up. Ariel was beginning to forget the last time she’d been allowed to sleep in without the aid of Dreamless Sleep. Every weekend either Sally or Katie would be up earlier than her so that they could go to Quidditch practice at some ridiculous hour that would leave Ariel lying in bed, her body begging her to find sleep once more, but mind now wide awake. It was just another reason for her to dislike Quidditch.

They didn’t try and at least _attempt_ to be quiet, either, because none of them cared if Ariel was being disturbed or not. She made a mental note to hide Katie’s hair brush later in retaliation. Ariel had resorted to doing that in order to keep herself from killing them all, since she wasn’t letting herself stay in her father’s quarters. Messing with them was the only release her irritation allowed.

“Ariel!” she was awakened by Katie throwing her bed curtains aside the second Saturday of January, “Wake up! Granger keeps knocking at the door — she says she won’t leave until she talks to you.”

Ariel shoved a pillow over her head just as an insistent rapping noise accompanied Katie’s claim. “Tell her I’m dead.”

“I don’t think that’ll stop her.” Katie snorted, the sound of something loud falling over making Ariel sit up. Sally had knocked over her broom.

“Then _I’m_ going to kill _her.”_ Ariel said under her breath, making the remaining sleeping girls moan and the other two snicker.

Ariel threw the covers off of her, wrapping her bathrobe around her tightly. The cold stone floor on her feet made her shiver — her slippers were somewhere under her bed. The knocking was just starting up again as Ariel threw the door open, giving Hermione, who was somehow looking _decent_ at this hour, her bleakest glare.

 _“What?”_ Ariel ground out, still half asleep.

“Were you sleeping?” Hermione flushed red, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to —”

“What _is it,_ Hermione?”

“I just thought…” She crossed her arms and looked around, “Harry’s first Quidditch match is today… and since you usually don’t come to the games, I figured you should know in case you wanted to see him.”

Ariel was suddenly _very_ awake.

“T-today?” She bleated, “They’re putting him in the first game back?”

“Well, apparently Flint was over the moon with how Harry did at his try-out… the other Seeker obviously wasn’t, but Snape apparently insisted…” Hermione trailed off, shrugging, “He’s got a new broom and everything.”

Ariel simply stared dumbly back at her for a long moment. She’d taken herself out of the game for the time being, spending the week classes resumed with Damon and trying to clear her muddled mind. There were still a great many things Ariel hadn’t breached with her father, and she couldn't speak with her father until _Harry_ started talking to her again. He’d been distant as of late towards not only Ariel, but Damon as well for the last bit of the conversation he’d overheard the other night. She didn’t even know if they’d made any progress of the Stone situation, but quite honestly, it seemed to be the very least of her problems at the moment.

“He doesn’t have a broom!” was the only thing Ariel could think to say, “Don’t tell me they’re making him flying on those shitty school ones!”

“Oh, no.” Hermione shook her head, “He’s got a Nimbus 2000.”

She nearly fell to the floor.

“A… _what?”_ Ariel looked around wildly, _“How?_ From _who?_ Did someone take him to Gringotts?”

Hermione blinked, “You mean you don’t know?”

“Yes, Hermione.” She snapped, “I _obviously_ know because Harry is obviously _not_ ignoring me.”

“But… you’re talking to Professor Snape —”

“Despite what my brother thinks, I’m —” Ariel paused, narrowing her eyes, “Wait, what does Professor Snape have to do with this?”

“You don’t know?” Hermione looked confused, “But Harry made it sound like —”

“I _know_ what Harry thinks.” Ariel rubbed her forehead, “Please just tell me where he got the bloody broom. I don’t think anyone here has gotten a new Nimbus yet. How did _he_ get his hands on one?”

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?” She cocked her head at her, “Professor Snape did. He said something about the school brooms being unsafe… and well, the 2000 model is supposed to be the safest yet…”

She might as well had told her that Voldemort had decided to team up with Father Christmas.

“And he _bought him one?”_ Ariel’s eyes widened, gripping the door frame tightly, “They’re a small fortune!”

“I know.” Hermione nodded in agreement, making a disgusted face at the mention of price, “I don’t know who was more shocked; Harry or Ron.”

Ariel stared uncomprehendingly at her for a very long time, her hazy mind racing to play catch up. It was true that she hadn’t spoken to her father since the Forest incident with Voldemort (who by the way, Ariel was surprised hadn’t barged into the school by now), and that she’d known he’d put him on the Quidditch team, but to go out and _buy_ Harry the most expensive broom out there?

Gods, had she _broken_ him? Had she forced too much out about Lily that it had scrambled his mind? Severus didn’t do things because he felt _bad_ or because he wanted to be _nice._ The pact didn’t specify _this much_ kindness. If anything, Ariel hadn’t been expecting her father to do anything for quite a while, and nothing of this magnitude. He must have gone to Dumbledore… bent the rules and went out and spent _galleons._ Her father had always been generous when it came to her, but she couldn’t recall a time in which he’d spent _over a hundred galleons_ on her. The biggest gift Severus had ever gotten her had been a cat when she was eight, but she’d ended up being allergic.

No, Severus did not buy big, extravagant gifts for people, _especially_ those he had been particularly nasty to in the past, nor did he make exceptions to rules.

 _First rule, though,_ she thought, smothering a smile.

Ariel cleared her throat and asked, “What time is the game?”

“Right after breakfast.” Hermione smiled, “You’ll come, then? Ron and I weren’t sure.”

“Why wouldn’t I come?” She demanded sharply.

“Well…” Her smile disappeared, “You haven’t been around… and I know Harry’s upset about that. I know he wants you there anyway, but I didn’t know if it was one-sided.”

“I’ll be there.” Ariel said flatly, and then promptly shut the door and jumped back into bed, burying her face against her pillow.

Three hours later, she had combed through her curls and thrown on a fresh pair of robes. Her dormitory was empty, as well as the common room. Ariel figured that everyone had most likely gone down to the Great Hall early in order to eat quickly and get good seats. It had always been like this on game days, Ariel one of the only stranglers that stayed behind. Earlier in the year, Harry and Ron had attended every single game, but as the season began to dull a bit, Harry stopped going to the matches that weren’t for Slytherin. Ron had, though, and Hermione usually went with him. Damon went to Slytherin matches only.

Ariel sighed as she slipped through the portrait of the Fat Lady, wishing she could at least sit in the Slytherin box with Damon, but that was _really_ pushing House limits. It suddenly occurred to her, then, that Slytherin winning the game wasn’t something she wanted in the slightest. Ariel frowned at the thought. She certainly wanted _Harry_ to do well today, but if Gryffindor’s chances at the House Cup could be in jeopardy…

Ariel screeched to a halt, suddenly, turning around as the sound of footsteps met her ears. They were heavy, not like student’s. She turned around, expecting somewhere to be right behind her.

The corridor behind her seemed darker than usual. Ariel called out a hesitant _“is someone there?”_ and at this, the footsteps ceased, their echo ringing for several seconds after.

She froze, ceasing her own breathing and listened, but no one came forth from the dark hallway behind her or returned the greeting. Ariel began to walk again, quicker this time, but just as her feet reached the first step on the staircase, the phantom footsteps began again.

“Who’s there?” Ariel called out, willing her voice not to shake. There was still no answer, but they were quickening, and sounded as though they were _very_ close by. She slipped her wand out of her sleeve.

Her heart was beating so fast it felt as though it were going to burst out of her chest. The hair stood up on the back of her neck. Her legs felt paralyzed, but from where the sudden fear sprang from, Ariel didn’t know. All she _did_ know was that she had to get out of there… and _quickly,_ but her body wasn’t moving…

 _“Ariel Potter.”_ a cold, high voice called from _very_ nearby. _Too_ close.

Her scar pricked.

Ariel jolted from her paralysis and bolted down the stairs, not stopping until she reached the entrance to the Great Hall. The crowd inside was already thinning out, meaning everyone was probably down at the Quidditch pitch already. Ariel leaned against the wall, trying to regulate her breathing and dull the ache in her abdomen.

That voice… she hadn’t recognized it. But who else would be stalking her? Quirrell hadn’t so much as looked at her all year. That left only one other suspect, and that was…

She needed to find her father.

Ariel ran from the school and towards the windy dirt path that led to the stadium, praying she’d find him before the game begun and he took his place in the professor’s box. He usually showed up to these things rather late, hoping to spend as little time as possible at events. Severus enjoyed Quidditch about as much as Ariel did.

She let out a breath of relief when, she rounded the third corner, she saw the silhouette of black cloak and shoulder length hair stalking down the road. 

“Dad!” Ariel ran forward and grabbed his hand, pulling him to a halt just as he turned.

Severus glanced down at her, raising an eyebrow in surprise, “What are you doing here?”

“I was coming to watch the game… can we talk?” She pointed with her eyes to a secluded area surrounded by trees several feet away, “I have to tell you something.”

His eyebrows came together, a questioning look on his face, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. Severus gave her a curt nod, spinning towards the site with his black robes billowing behind him, Ariel on his tail.

He made a path with a flick of his wand, the bushes moving aside, as if they’d grown legs. Ariel stared, momentarily distracted, images of the trees lurking over them during the detention flashing to the front of her mind. She snapped herself out of it and followed after her father, not wanting to be out of his sight for a second.

“No one can hear us here, right?” Ariel eyed the trees nervously.

“Not unless we have students who have decided to dwell in the Forest.” Severus said dryly. “However…” he muttered something in a low voice, and had Ariel not been watching, she would’ve missed the _sheen_ of a Charm.

“Silencing Charm?” Ariel quirked an eyebrow.

“And Disillusionment.” Severus nodded. “Now, what is it you need to tell me?”

“Someone was following me before.” She said. “Right outside of Gryffindor Tower. I think they were waiting for me.”

Her father’s face darkened significantly, “Who?”

“I don’t know.” Ariel lowered her eyes to the ground.

“What did you see?”

“Nothing.”

He was starting to look annoyed, “When?”

“I guess it was the end of breakfast… I took a little longer to get ready. I didn’t see anyone, but I heard footsteps.” Ariel swallowed audibly, “It felt like someone was watching me, and then someone whispered my name.”

 _“Who?”_ Severus asked again, nostrils flaring, the wind spilling his inky black hair about his face. His eyes darted about the trees as though he expected the culprit to jump out at them.

“I didn’t recognize the voice.” Ariel felt her eyes prick as the wind howled, or perhaps it was her fear, “My scar hurt again.”

It was then that her father’s expression went blank. He knelt down, pushing back her hair from her face to look at her forehead.

“It doesn’t look like it did the other night.” Severus said quietly. “You’re certain?”

“It wasn’t as bad.” Ariel averted her eyes, “It was like a needle. The other night was… painful. This was like a shock.”

He raised his wand to her then, and before the wand even lit up Ariel knew he was running a Diagnostic. She sighed, slouching a bit, “Nothing hurt me, Dad. I didn’t hear anything other than my name.”

“There are wordless spells, child.” Severus murmured, face sent in concentration, or perhaps it was deep thought. Ariel didn’t know. The tip of his wand glowed in a way that Ariel knew meant the Diagnostic had come back negative.

“You said you didn’t recognize the voice?” His voice had turned as dark as his face, bitter as the cold in the trees shook around them.

She shook her head, “No… I’m sorry. I know it sounds like nothing, but —”

“It’s _not_ nothing.” He shot her a look, “You were right to come to me if you suspected someone was watching you that shouldn’t have been.”

Ariel swallowed and nodded. “It… startled me.”

Severus’ eyebrows pulled together, like he’d just realized something. His hand threaded through her hair soothingly.

“Do you think it was You-Know-Who?” Ariel blurted out nervously, “Who else would it be besides Quirrell? It definitely didn’t sound like _him.”_

Severus straightened up then, gripping her shoulder tightly. His mouth was set in a firm line that made him look furious, but the rest of his face told a different story.

“Do you wish to return to the castle?” He asked, his eyes soft in a way that made her hear a very different question.

But he hadn’t answered hers.

“No,” She shuddered. “Not really.”

“I won’t let anything hurt you — you’ll stay with me until Professor Dumbledore returns.”

“I know.” said Ariel quietly. “I’m fine, really, and I _can’t_ go back now.”  Ariel gave him a knowing look, leaning into him a bit as they began to walk back towards the road. “I _have_ to go and watch the game. Harry’s playing in it!”

Severus looked completely unphased by this, which led her to believe that he’d been expecting her sooner or later on the matter, “Well, you’ve chosen quite a day to start. I’m afraid you’ll be quite miserable in this cold.”

“I have to make sure Harry doesn’t spiral to his death.” Ariel raised an eyebrow right back at him as walked out of the thicket, falling into step, “Though I don’t think that’s likely with that fancy new broom _you_ bought him.”

“How noble of you.” Severus was surveying the dirt road before them with a laser beam precision. Ariel could already hear the crowd roaring in the distance.

“A _Nimbus,_ Dad?” She stopped short, causing him to do the same several paces away from her, “They’re like, what, over three hundred galleons now?”

“The boy needed a broom.” Her father said stiffly, “I wasn’t about to let him fly on some misshapen scrap of tree bark.”

Ariel smirked at him knowingly, “And _you_ put him on the Quidditch team? First years aren’t allowed to play. Since when do _you_ bend rules?”

“Consider it an olive branch on my behalf.” Severus’ eyes flashed, “I thought this is what you wanted?”

She shifted her weight to one side, crossing her arms across her chest, “The point was for you to _not_ see him as James.”

“I am giving the boy an _opportunity.”_

“Through _Quidditch?”_

“I am _trying,_ Ariel!” Her father snapped in a loud voice finally, “Madam Hooch tells me the boy is a natural in class and has urged me to consider him on the team. I thought it fair to let the boy try out and let the Slytherin captain decide.”

Ariel looked up at him, searching his eyes for something that would tell her differently. But there was nothing defensive there — anger, yes, but that was directed at her. He was being… _honest._ He was acting put-upon, but her father always looked like that… maybe… he really _did_ mean it…

“Okay.” She nodded. “I believe you.”

Severus had turned to look up at the boxes, but his head snapped back down to her when she spoke. His eyes looked like dark pools of water.

They’d stopped just outside the entrance, the cheers and yells of the student body deafening. Ariel suddenly remembered why she’d hated Quidditch when she was little. There was no exciting to her about _watching_ people fly around on brooms… and she was going to be _stuck_ here for the better of the day.

Then again, Ariel would camp out here for an entire weekend if it made Harry happy.

“Nothing is going to harm you, Ariel.” Her father said in a serious voice just as she went to tell him goodbye, “I’ll be speaking to Professor Dumbledore about this.”

She gulped and nodded, giving him a grateful look.

“You and your brother _will_ find me after this match.” Severus ordered gruffly, “You’re not wandering the castle alone until I get to the bottom of this.”

And then he did something very odd he’d never done before — he bent down and swiftly kissed her atop her head before billowing into the arena without a backwards glance. Ariel smiled, but it soon wavered as an overwhelming sense of dread overcame her and she reluctantly trudged into the Quidditch pitch for the game.

She was the last Gryffindor arriving, it seemed. Ron and Hermione had both gotten front row seats right next to Hagrid, the three of them bending over the railing in order to get a better look at the team members when they emerged. Ariel took her seat in the far back, wrapping her cloak tightly around her as she craned her head in search for Harry.

They came soon after her bottom had touched the benchtop, the crowd roaring for their peers as they catapulted high above their heads and circled the stadium once. Harry was the last one out, looking breathless and near elation on a, just as Hermione had said, Nimbus 2000. Ariel screamed his name, waving at Harry over the shouts and hollers, catching only a gleam of happiness light up in his green eyes when they met hers for a fraction of a moment.

He was wearing the scarf Ariel had given him for Christmas.

The game began shortly after that with Lee Jordan announcing. Ariel briefly caught sight of her father sitting in the professor’s box next to McGonagall, his eyes on the Slytherin team start off with more interest than they usually held. The Snitch was released as the bludgers went into play, and then —

Ariel watch, transfixed, as her brother soared about, hands reaching for the Snitch at it zoomed in no definite direction. Harry was on it, seemingly _inches_ away from it at certain points, before they turned a corner. He looked weightless, moving at a speed and maneuvering that should _not_ have been possible.

“Wow,” She muttered to herself, “Ron wasn’t kidding.”

Ariel wasn’t keeping track of the game, or anything else, except for Harry, really. She wondered if she should go up to him after the game to tell him how much of a good job he did, whether Slytherin lost or not.

And then, something very strange happened.

Harry’s broom seized while he was in the middle of chasing the Snitch, the halt nearly sending him flying off his broom. Ariel let out a horrified gasp as he scrambled to hang on, and then, the broom began to move.

It was bucking, as though it were trying to throw him off.

Ariel flew to her feet, eyes glued on her little brother, who was holding on for dear life.

Fred and George began to circle underneath him as the remaining players watched, but otherwise continued the game as Harry clung to the broomstick. Ariel could hear Hermione yelling something over the chatter of the crowd, but didn’t think to listen. Instead, she looked to her father, whose eyes were where hers had just been, though sharper and glittering with something dangerous. She could see his lips moving as well.

Confused, Ariel stood on her tiptoes and tried to get a better look, finding that some of the broom-shaking had subsided, though not entirely. Her eyes darted back and forth between Harry and her father, but then, they picked up someone else who looked rather odd.

Quirrell was speaking as well, and it didn’t seem like he was stuttering. He looked like he was trying to hide his face.

Her father must be doing the counter curse.

Her father was saving Harry.

Ariel took off then, stumbling over legs and feet as she grabbed her wand out of her robe sleeve and took off running towards the professor’s box. She had to stop him… if Harry _fell…_

“Ariel?” Hermione’s voice whispered as Ariel found a place to crouch underneath the stands. She jumped, whirling around to find her just inches behind her.

“Hermione!” Ariel cried in a loud whisper, “Hermione, we have to stop Quirrell somehow! He’s Jinxing Harry’s broom —”

“I know — I followed you. I figured you were —”

“We _have_ to do something about Quirrell!”

“Ron and I saw _Snape_ saying some kind of incantation.” Hermione paled, “I… I came to stop _him.”_

Ariel’s chest dropped to the ground that was hundreds of feet below them.

“Hermione,” she said in a slow voice, “I don’t have time to convince you to trust me. Harry doesn’t have time.”

“I _know!”_ Hermione hissed back shrilly, “We didn’t see _Quirrell,_ all we saw was _Snape._ You need eye contact to perform a Jinx and Snape was looking _right at him —”_

Ariel widened her eyes at her in horror, a surge of adrenaline running through her veins as her mind went into fight mode. Hermione was the closest… if she took out her father, then Harry would be done for.

“Hermione, _no!”_ Ariel pleaded, “Please, Snape is only trying —”

The crowd let out a horrified scream, both their heads jerking in the direction of the arena from under the stands. But Hermione reacted first, rising to her feet and pointing her wand at Severus’ back.

“NO!” Ariel yelled, flinging herself at her, but she was too late.

_“Incendio!”_

She could hear the small ignition of flames begin over the shrieks at Harry’s plight. Ariel cursed loudly, sending Hermione a scathing glare as she scampered back to the Gryffindor pitch while she scanned the bodies above her head for Quirrell. When she located the turban, just as the other professors began to shout, _“FIRE!”_ she readied her wand.

_“Stupefy!”_

A beam of red light shot out from the end of her wand, sending Quirrell falling down several benches, and with a twisted smile, Ariel darted forward into the professor’s box, causing several of them to gasp at the intrusion, to see if her Stunner had done its job.

Her father’s hand grabbed the back of her neck just as she watched Harry soar downward and pull the front of his broom upward, fully in control and relief so thick on his face that it almost made her forget the situation for just a second.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I did another double upload because this was one chapter, but then I decided it should really be two.
> 
> Please review — they’re the reason I live, er, I mean, incredibly motivating.


	31. Blame

Snape’s hand slammed against the desk, making both Harry and his sister jump where they stood.

“You did _what?”_ He bellowed back after Ariel replied to his earlier question inquiring as to why she had been in the professor’s box. Harry was curious to find out as well.

As as soon as he’d landed, Snape had grabbed him, his sister in his other hand, and dragged them back to the castle and into his office, snarling obscenities under his breath that Harry had only heard when Uncle Vernon had accidently hurt himself, but never all at once.

His mind thought back to those terrifying moments on his broom, his mind practically trying to figure out what in Merlin’s name was going on. Harry had briefly heard Hermione yelling, but he hadn’t thought to look around, as all of his concentration was on his hands and that they _not_ let go.

But then he’d dived, finding the Snitch once more and chasing it will all his might as Hooch had shouted for the game to cease. His hand outstretched, willing himself to grab it before the other players realized that the game had been paused, opening his mouth in anticipation, and suddenly he’d had a mouth full of Snitch.

Needless to say, Snape _hadn’t_ congratulated on the Slytherin victory yet.

“Quirrell was trying to knock Harry off his broom.” Ariel was staring back at Snape evenly, “I had to do _something.”_

Harry looked at her in shock, eyes widening. He’d considered the possibility when Snape had grabbed him that someone had Jinxed the broom. For a moment, he’d thought _Malfoy,_ but he wasn’t good enough to pull off such a stunt.

Snape smacked the desk again, harder this time. Harry wondered how the man hadn’t broken his hand by now.

“So you _Stunned him?”_ He was practically vibrating with anger. If poor Neville Longbottom had been here, Harry was quite sure he’d of fainted by now. It was truly remarkable that Ariel was staying so stone-faced.

“I didn’t think Harry had time.” She gave Harry a sideways glance, one he responded to with his own. They had spoken in several days and Harry wasn’t quite sure how to respond to this. The professor yelling at them still may or may not have been the real culprit, in his mind.

“You didn’t think I _knew that?”_ Snape shouted so loudly that Harry’s eardrums were beginning to hurt, “Do you think I was performing the counter curse for my own _enjoyment?”_

Harry blinked at this, shocked. Snape had been trying to _save him?_

His belief that the man had been after the Stone was slowly starting to deflate. The thought, as Snape stared at them with palpable anger and a hint of something Harry couldn’t make out, started to sound rather silly. If Voldemort was lurking in the Forest, then _that_ meant whoever was trying to steal the Stone must be doing it for _him._ Voldemort being near _also_ meant that Ariel and Harry were probably prime targets, and Harry didn’t think Snape wanted his sister dead, angry as he was at the moment.

Snape had never looked so disheveled-- so far from the stoic professor that curled Harry’s insides every time his silky drawl reached his ears.

It suddenly occurred to Harry that perhaps he’d begun to resent the man more than he’d thought. He’d been trying to convince himself that he didn’t care, that Snape was _Ariel’s_ father and that his intense dislike for him shouldn’t bother him. Snape had apologized, but it had been about as convincing as Hagrid trying to cover up a lie.

Well, he had more than a good reason to, didn’t he?

“I didn’t think it was going to be enough to save him in time.” Ariel protested, making Snape’s eyes flash dangerously, “He was barely hanging on!”

“Do you not think me capable of being able to compromise a simple Broom Jinx?” He asked in a voice that dared her to disagree, “Did you think setting me aflame would work as well?”

Brother and sister shared a quick look, both of their eyes filled with confusion — and worry.

 _“I’m_ not the one who set you on fire.” Ariel said, putting her hands on her hips. She was trying to look cool and collected, but it was very clear to Harry that her father’s rage was beginning to unnerve her a bit.

“Someone set you on fire?” Harry asked, regretting it when Snape’s black eyes nearly blew off his head with the force of his glare.

“Then who, pray tell, was it?” He hissed, leaning forward over his desk.

Harry’s mind immediately came to the conclusion he knew Ariel wouldn’t give — it had to have been Ron or Hermione. They’d believed his Snape-theory, especially Ron. Hermione had been a bit more reserved on the matter, but he could hardly see Ron setting a professor on fire. His wand had a tendency to... _malfunction_ sometimes.

Hermione had set Snape on _fire —_

“I don’t know.” Ariel averted her eyes to the floor as Harry sent her _don’t-blow-this_ eyes, “I didn’t see anyone.”

“Ariel Rose Potter.” Snape said, enunciating each name like it were some kind of first confession, making his sister’s eyes snap back up in horror, “You are in no position right now to be withholding information. You are going to tell me _right now —”_

“What does it matter?” She shot back, her voice desperate, “It _wasn’t_ you — it was Quirrell! I _stopped_ him! Who cares about —”

“HE IS AIDING THE MADMAN TRYING TO KILL THE BOTH OF YOU!” Snape roared, his skin a whole shade lighter. Harry cringed away as Ariel winced.

“I know that.” she tried weakly, “I couldn’t just sit by and watch! I was only trying to help!”

“You promised me you would stay out of this, Ariel.” He fumed, banging his fist down again, “You are a _child.”_

“It wasn’t working!”

“Why would he be trying to kill me anyway?” Harry interrupted quickly, saving Ariel from the fiery wrath Snape was undoubtedly about to unleash upon her. A vein was pulsing violently in his forehead, eyes bulging out of head, and his skin had gone the color of bad milk.

“If you were talking to me, I would have told you.” Ariel muttered to him. Harry scoffed under his breath at that.

“It _seems,”_ Snape sent his sister a nasty look, “that Quirrell has finally realized you are both a bigger threat than anticipated, thanks to your little excursion into the Forbidden Forest a week and a half ago.”

Harry blinked, “We haven’t done anything to Quirrell!”

“Then am I wrong to believe what your sister told me you both saw in that Forest?” He ground out through bare teeth, picking up a quill in between his fingers, “Can you think of _no reason_ why Quirrell may be trying to silence the both of you?”

Ariel gave him a meaningful look as Snape’s vein threatened to explode. The quill snapped in his hand.

“He did something to you?” Harry turned to his sister, not bothering to find out whether Snape’s question was rhetorical or not. “When?”

“Nothing like what he did with your broom.” Ariel said quickly, shaking her head, “It was nothing.”

“Don’t you dare downplay this.” Snape had ceased yelling, but now his voice dripped with a venom that Harry couldn’t tell if it was directed at _them_ or Quirrell, “As long as he resides in this castle, neither of you are safe.”

“So what are we going to do?” Ariel asked with a sigh. She was beginning to look more apprehensive than worried.

 _“You_ are not going to _do_ anything.” Snape hissed, looking Harry straight in the eye. They were cold and black and reminded him of dark tunnels, “You’re going to _stay here_ until there isn’t a shadow of a doubt in my mind that you’re both _safe.”_

“You’re not going after him!” She looked alarmed all of a sudden, dark eyes widening, “Are you?”

“No,” He growled, “but this needs to end. I won’t have the both of you wandering the castle, or attending class with him, for that matter.” He draped his cloak around him, “I’m going to speak to the Headmaster. The Stone needs to be removed, along with the threat. You are both going to stay here until you’re told otherwise.”

Harry thought back to his first night at Hogwarts, the first time he’d met Ariel, and butterflies took flight in his stomach. The last thing he wanted right now was to stay here with his sister, who was keeping secrets, and _Snape,_ whose reasoning for hating him so much was apparently so bad that Ariel felt the need to avoid him and meet with her father in private and without letting Harry know. She’d even told _Damon_ over him… as though it was some dirty cover up Ariel didn’t think Harry had a right to know about.

He could feel that last of his family slipping out of his grasp, and the thought frightened him as much as it made him hate Snape even more.

“With all due respect sir,” Harry lifted his chin, but kept his eyes on the broken quill on the desk, “I’d like to stay in Slytherin. I won’t leave —”

“You’re _staying_ _here,”_ Snape repeated with a snarl, “until the threat is eliminated.”

“Dad, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Ariel tried, looking uncomfortable.

His fists banged against the desk surface again, upsetting an ink pot, “Why is it that the two of you have such little regard for your safety? I am not in the accommodating mood, Potter, and I won’t have you throwing a tantrum when I have more important matters at hand. You were nearly thrown off a _broom_ today.”

“Why do you act like you care?” Harry snapped back, leaning towards him, “If Quirrell really _was_ trying to kill me, what does it matter to you? You hate my guts!”

“Oh, do save the melodramatics.” Snape sneered down at him, “And it would do you well, boy, to control your cheek.”

 _“Dad!”_ Ariel hissed, head whipping back and forth between them, “The both of you, _stop it!”_  

“Why would _you_ of all people want to protect me?” Harry’s volume rose to match Snape’s, “If I’m gone, then I’m no longer the problem!”

They were both staring at him now, one a mixture of horror and guilt, the other nothing but rising defenses.

“Harry…” Ariel whispered, “Please.”

“No,” He looked between them, letting all of his anger show through his eyes as looked right into Snape’s, “I’m leaving. I’d rather be around people who actually _like me_ than have to stay here.”

Ariel looked hurt by this, but it only seemed to make Snape angrier instead of deflate the situation.

 _“Potter —”_ Snape’s jaw was set, dark eyes blazing.

“Either you let me leave,” Harry hesitated, “or you tell me the truth.”

“Potter,” Snape’s seethed in a menacing tone, “if you have an _ounce_ of Slytherin preservation in that head of yours, you will _cease speaking —”_

“You aren’t even her real father!” Harry shouted, “If ours was alive, maybe you’d hate her as much as you hate me! I’d bet you’d of never even have met her if our parents hadn’t died! So what makes you think you have so much of a claim on her? She’s _my_ sister, and I’m done fighting over her!”

Ariel’s hand flew over her mouth. Snape had gone as still as a statue.

“If my parents were alive.” He swallowed loudly, “They’d hate you for what you’ve done.”

Snape’s lips went bloodless, his eyes absent of anything for a very long moment, and then, they filled with a cracking look of intense loathing that made Harry stagger back.

“You forget your place, boy.” Snape’s expression was borderline homicidal, “I don’t care if you despise me openly, but your problem lies with _me,_ not _her._ And if you can’t distinguish the difference between putting your feelings aside for the sake of _keeping yourself alive_ and not wanting to tolerate a difficult situation, then perhaps the Sorting Hat _has_ finally made a mistake in the thousand years this school has been open.”

Something hard hit Harry in the chest then, as though Snape’s words had actually caused some kind of physical blow. He fought the tears and lump in his throat and willed himself to force all of his hatred towards the man into a single look, and then, without a backwards glance, broke for the door.

* * *

Ariel was on the boy’s tail in a heartbeat, but luckily, Severus was faster. He grabbed her around the middle as the boy stalked out the door, slamming the door behind him. He wished it had hit him on the way out.

“Let me _go!”_ Ariel screeched, kicking and fighting him all the way.

“No,” said Severus, forcing her into a chair, barricading her in with his arms. “You’re staying put.”

“You — you’re… how _could_ you?” She writhed against him as he pulled her into her bedroom, shutting the door forcefully and trying to organize himself before he completely lost it. Severus leaned against the closed door and shut his eyes tightly, trying with all his might to Occlude.

_They’d hate you for what you’ve done_

_Well, it’s the mere fact that he exists, if you know what I mean_

_You called her that word and then went and became a part of the people that wanted her dead_

“You _promised!”_ Ariel pointed at him, looking positively beside herself, “You _said_ you would try…”

“He provoked me.” Severus muttered against the wood, trying to drown out the voices shrieking and clawing against his skull.

“I don’t care!” She shouted, her hair shaking around her thin face like a living flame, “He’s allowed to say those things because we’re _lying_ to him! _I’m_ lying to him! He has no clue about any of this! He thinks you’re trying to tear us apart! You _are!”_

Severus was about to snap that that was absolutely ridiculous, when he realized that Ariel was right. The boy had every right to resent him. Deep down, Severus had wanted it from the very start — welcomed it, even. He’d wanted to see James Potter on that first day of term and pick up where they’d left off. He wanted to make him pay, finally, in a way that he would never have been able to when he’d been living. Of course the boy had every right to think that.

Ariel was right — she was —

“I’m sorry.” Severus told her, meaning it more than she could ever know, “You shouldn’t have had to witness that.”

She looked at him, grief-stricken, as tears rolled down her face. She fell against the side of the bed and buried her face in her hands.

“I want to leave.” Ariel mumbled, though it sounded more like a command than a statement.

“No.” Severus’ voice hardened.

“You can’t just keep me prisoner!” Ariel picked her head up, looking at him with a look of disgust that felt like a slap to the face.

“If something happens to you…” Severus shook his head, wiping his mind clean of the terrifying possibility.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me.” Ariel snapped, “Nothing worse, than this, anyway. You’re never going to change, and now Harry hates me for it. What am I supposed to tell him after this? He _knows_ there’s something I’m not telling him and I can’t because it’s… it’s not fair!”

Severus leaned against the door, watching her face scrunch together. He could tell that she was trying with all her might not to cry, to look angry instead of hurt, but the battle she was waning with herself spoke to him more than her tears ever could. There were still aftershocks of his anger, the blinding anger only James Potter had been able to instill in him, rocking through him.

“I hate you.”

It wasn’t even a whisper, probably not even meant for his ears, but Ariel might as well have screamed it in his face. Severus’ eyes widened, his hand finding the doorknob as her eyes met his.

She looked tired — defeated. Hurt. Angry. Miserable. And small.

He tore from the room as the girl let out a frustrated yell, something glass hitting the floor.

He’d seen it in the boy’s eyes too along with something else —  yearning. There had been a time when Severus had looked at other families like that and wondered what it was to be loved unconditionally. Merlin knew he loved the girl just behind the door as so, and that had always been a fine line for him to walk. Loving someone meant hurt, which was why he’d tried to distance himself from her. It was _why_ he hadn’t pursued her or tried to make right what already knew was _wrong._ If Ariel removed herself, then he had nothing left to fear in terms of loss. Even after he’d found out that she had always been his, Severus tried to bury all the jealousy he felt towards the boy because he _knew._ He _knew_ how utterly ridiculous and paranoid he was being. He _knew_ what the boy had been silently crying out for when he’d shouted at him.

Being replaced and forgotten, Severus could handle. But _hate —_

He’d thrown the last thing Potter had needed, the boy’s greatest fear, back in his face.

But… if Potter was truly _that_ angry with Ariel for keeping his secrets, for meeting with him and trusting him, then she would have no one. And Severus couldn’t stand to see the girl alone. He knew why the boy had been so quick to anger just moments ago. He understood it perfectly now.

Severus kneaded his forehead as a more pressing matter brought itself to the forefront of his convoluted mind — fucking Quirrell. If Dumbledore wasn’t dealing with the stuttering simpleton now, then Severus was going to kill the man himself. He wouldn’t tolerate Lily’s children being in any sort of danger inside the castle any longer.

He quickly checked the wards on Ariel’s door to make sure if she tried to leave, he’d know before she tried to make a run for it and took off towards the Floo.

He wasn’t disappointed. Dumbledore was just putting on his traveling cloak as Severus stepped out of the fireplace, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Ah, Severus, I’m glad I caught you.” He looked grim, “Minerva’s just been up to see me.”

“So you’ve heard.” Severus bit the inside of his cheek in agitation, “Well? What are you doing about it, then?”

“I’ve just Floo’d Nicolas, and we’ve agreed that with Tom after the Stone, it’s far too dangerous to be kept here, or anywhere, really.” Dumbledore looked saddened by this. “I’m afraid he’ll die, but he’s lived a long life along with his wife. But with Ariel and Harry’s lives at risk…”

“And what of Quirrell?” He asked, curling his lip.

Dumbledore’s expression darkened, “I will deal with him when the time comes. For now, I must remove the Stone before Tom thinks to strike.”

“Good.” He sighed and began to make his way towards the Floo, feeling drained. Just a couple of more hours and this madness would end.

“Severus?” Dumbledore called, sounding concerned, “Is everything… Ariel and Harry are alright, aren’t they?”

He looked away, closing his eyes and answered truthfully, “I don’t know.”

* * *

Harry felt exhausted the next morning when he awoke, sleep coating his eyes as he rubbed them and sat up in bed. Light green rays were filtering in through the windows, meaning that the sun was up and breakfast was probably being served about now.

He wasn’t hungry. Harry’s chest ached, or more specifically, his ribs. His pillow was damp as well as his Quidditch uniform, which he hadn’t changed out of. As soon as Harry had hurried back from Snape’s quarters, he’d thrown his Invisibility Cloak over himself, put up a Silencing Spell and sobbed until he heard the other boys in his year come in to begin getting ready for bed. The last thing he needed was for Malfoy to come in and see him wailing like a baby.

He’d heard Damon at the door as the light in the room grew darker and darker, asking if Harry was in there, but Crabbe had shaken his potato-shaped head no, and after that, Harry had fallen into a fitful sleep.

That morning, swung his legs over the side of the bed, finding a note that hadn’t been there last night folded neatly on his night table. Harry opened it cautiously, groaning at the familiar handwriting that met his eyes.

_We need to speak. Meet me in my office after breakfast. — S.S._

“Bugger off.” Harry muttered. Snape could make him scrub all the cauldrons he wanted from now until kingdom come, but there was no way in hell he was going anywhere near the greasy git this morning. He needed to clear his head of all the fog. He wanted to go missing like Ariel had during Christmas.

He hurriedly put on a pair of Muggle clothes, grabbed his father’s Invisibility cloak, and his wand, and slipped from the room.

The sky outside was greyer than Harry’s mood. There was an odd silence, even though he could hear the chatter of students in the Great Hall.

He needed complete silence, and he knew where he could go to get it.

Harry couldn’t remember the last time he cried like that. Perhaps it had been when he’d first found the picture of his family in the Dursley’s attic, because after that, no matter how miserable they’d made him, he’d had that picture to go back to. Harry could think about the happy family there and how if they’d been alive, they’d _still_ be happy. But now, that image was shattered in his mind, all that was left was a cold, bitter man and a tearful sister who didn’t know who to side with… even though she’d _promised_ him…

It wasn’t Ariel’s fault, said a soothing, strong voice in Harry’s mind, and he believed it. Whatever she wasn’t telling him obviously wasn’t because she sincerely didn’t _want_ him to know. How could she expect to trust him with anything Snape-related when he’d thought the man was trying to steal the Stone up until last night?

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the intense hatred that shot through him at the thought of Snape. He’d already taken his sister, but to say he didn’t belong in the _one place_ that was supposed to show him… supposed to be his home…

Harry slid against the wall just outside the third floor corridor and removed his cloak, stifling the urge to cry again.

“Harry Potter.” said Quirrell’s voice, void of the stutter he’d grown accustomed to. It sounded foreign without it.

Harry turned, an icy chill surrounding him, and then he was plunged into darkness.

* * *

Ariel looked left to right before dashing from her room, tossing the note she’d quickly scribbled on her father’s desk and flown out the door. It had simply read _be back in half an hour,_ not bothering to tell Severus where she was going, because quite honestly, Ariel didn’t know herself. She’d only promised to be back because the last thing she needed was a hunting party after her.

She didn’t know whether to try and speak to Harry so soon. She didn’t even think she had the right. Ariel didn’t speak for her father, but the fact that she had gone back to speaking to him behind Harry’s back, only to have him shout such hurtful things… such _terrible…_

_I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!_

It was getting harder and harder for her to convince herself that Severus hadn’t been… _wasn’t_ a bad person. He’d been bullied, his one friend had abandoned him, he was a part of the House that had seen the worst of the war back when he’d been in school…

Excuses weren’t helping her anymore. All she could see and hear was _cruel cruel cruel…_

It had been cruel on both ends, but Severus _knew._ Harry _didn’t._ How was she going to fix this _this_ time? Maybe she couldn’t.

 _Dammit._ Ariel needed to find Damon. He’d know what to say. Somehow, he always did.

She found him, along with Ron and Hermione descending to the dungeons just as she was about to head up to the Great Hall. They were talking quietly, heads tucked together. They looked worried. Damon’s face broke into a relieved smile at the sight of her. Hermione looked nervous.

“Set any professors on fire this morning?” Ariel asked her flatly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Hermione looked down, biting her lip, “I’m really sorry, Ariel, but I couldn’t take the chance —”

“You _set him on fire!”_

“It was an honest mistake!” Ron cut in, which took Ariel by surprise. Usually Ron was the one initiating the _what-the-hell-was-Granger-thinking_ talks, “You can’t blame her for that!”

Ariel glared, not in the mood to battle this out right now, for she wished that _she_ could set Severus on fire about now, “I covered for you, but he’s bound to figure it out sooner or later. You’d better prepare yourself once this Stone business blows over.”

Hermione nodded, looking behind Ariel like she was expecting someone else to be there, “Where’s Harry?”

She blinked back, “I was just going to ask you that. He went back to Slytherin last night, didn’t he?” Her gaze moved to Damon.

He shrugged, “I didn’t see him, but Draco said he did at breakfast.”

“Oh, we’re taking _Draco’s_ word, now?” Ariel rolled her eyes.

“You two need Tracking Charms for one another.” Ron muttered.

“Where is he, then?” Ariel demanded, _“Was_ he at breakfast?”

“Didn’t _you_ see him last?” Damon looked at her strangely.

“Well, yes, but… he and my father argued and then he stormed out… Snape wouldn’t let me leave after that.”

“Merlin, you both _do_ need Trackers.” He muttered back, looking to Hermione and Ron for help. 

Ariel opened her mouth to retort about that comment when raucous laughter hit her ears. She cringed, giving a great sigh when the prince of Slytherin himself descended from behind them.

“What are _you_ laughing at?” Hermione snapped, “Don’t you have hair to gel or something?”

“At least I can tame mine!” He gave a vicious grin back as Hermione turned red with mortification.

“Go away, Malfoy.” Ariel growled, “I’m not in the mood to entertain your ego right now.”

He snorted, “Neither is your precious brother, apparently. He’s been sitting all alone upstairs all morning.”

“What? _Where?”_ She lunged for him as he danced out of the way.

“Not that you’ll find him there _now.”_ Draco leered.

 _“Draco,”_ Damon growled, his eyes turning into slits, “Where is Harry?”

“Your brother can’t catch a break with any of the professors, can he?” Draco sneered, looking back to Ariel, “We’ve just seen Quirrell dragging him somewhere, and _he’s_ scared of his own shadow!”

Ariel went to snap something smart back at him, but all that reached the young Slytherin’s ears was a sharp intake of breath as she felt her her skin prick with an overwhelming sense of dread.

“Quirrell?” She asked, willing with all her might to keep her voice from shaking, “Where?”

“Near the third floor where Dumbledore said it was forbidden to go.” Draco sneered, “Reckon he was snooping where he shouldn’t and Quirrell found him.”

“Why were you there?” Damon’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, “Were you _following_ him?”

Draco’s face took on that odd pink tinge it always did when he’d been offended, “I’m not one of his bloody adoring fans — of course not!”

“Then why were you up there?” Damon challenged, a cold smirk on his face.

He sputtered for several seconds, only sounds and vowels escaping his mouth before he let out a sound of great annoyance. Draco spun around and stalked away, head down as though he’d just been hit with a snowball. Crabbe and Goyle followed, sharing a puzzled look before assuming their parts on his flanks.

“Quirrell took him.” Ariel stated aloud once they’d gone, though her voice sounded far away to her, “He _took_ him.”

“We don’t know that for sure.” Hermione said, though her amber eyes looked nervous, “Malfoy could just be pulling your leg.”

“But why would he use _Quirrell?”_ She began to pace the corridor, her hands trembling, “No one’s scared of him… he’s not strict… he’s never even _spoken_ to either of us.”

“Maybe Quirrell —”

“He said he was _dragging him away!”_ Ariel stopped suddenly, “He tried to kill Harry yesterday at the game and followed me that morning… what if he’s decided to finish it off himself?”

“Then we have to go after him!” Ron had gone white in the face, but there was a determination in his voice, “Some needs to go and get the Headmaster!”

“He’s gone!” Ariel ran an unsteady hand through her hair, “He went to the Ministry to get rid of the bloody Stone!”

“Then that must be why Quirrell grabbed him.” Damon concluded, looking a bit like he was about to be sick, “We have to do something.”

The shapes around her began to blur into a mess of muted colors. She could hear a ringing in the distance, feel each distinct ray of sunlight filtering down the stairs to the dungeons. The rubble on the ground was louder under her feet as she sank against the wall and tried to fight the screaming voice inside her head that filled her to the brim with terror.

Not her brother. Not the boy that she’d found and pulled back to the surface. They hadn’t had a proper chance to be brother and sister yet… they hadn’t spent nearly as much time together to make up their time apart.

Harry couldn’t —  she wouldn’t let him get hurt, or worse…

Her mind then immediately wandered to her father, who she’d _just_ left and assured that she’d be right back. Ariel could see how restless this was making him, how anxious and quick to anger he had been because he was afraid something would happen to her. But if it came down to Ariel or Severus, Voldemort would kill him in an instant. With her, maybe she had a chance… maybe she could save her father from him if she stopped him from getting the Stone…

And that was the thought that changed everything.

“I have to go after him.” Ariel whispered in a steely voice, “We can’t wait. He doesn't have enough time for us to sit around.” She rose and began quickly making her way up the stairs.

“Okay, wait wait _wait!”_ Damon called as the three of them rushed after her, “This is insane, Ariel. What are _you_ going to do?”

“I’m going to pry Quirrell’s slimy hands off of Harry if I have to!” she snapped, throwing him a look over her shoulder, “Go up to the Owlry and let Dumbledore know what’s going on. Damon, go and get my father.”

 _“WHAT?_ Oh no — _you’re_ coming with me, and we’re _all_ getting Snape!”

“He’ll lock me in my room if I do that!”

“Good! Maybe he _should,_ since you want to go and confront a _Death Eater!”_

“I’m going with you!” Ron said, joining her at her right, “He’s _my_ best mate and you’re going to need all the help you can get.”

“I appreciate it Ron,” Ariel gave a shaky sigh as the climbed the stairs to the second floor, “But I —”

“Are you all _mad?”_ Damon hissed loudly, jerking them all to a halt, “Ariel, you can’t take him all by yourself! We need to tell a professor!”

“There’s no _time,_ Damon!” she insisted, picking up the pace. “Voldemort wants us dead and I’m not going to let Harry go at it alone! I’m getting him out of there _now!”_

“Hermione?” Ron asked, giving the unusually quiet girl a half expectant, half questioning look, as Damon sputtered, “You coming?”

Her face was scrunched together in concentration and fear, making her small nose twitch like a rabbit’s. “Of course I am.” Hermione straightened up a bit, “If I’m going to get expelled for something, it might as well be saving one of my friend’s.”

“Then I’m coming too.” Damon interjected, looking panic stricken and trying to appear brave. The look didn't fit him well, “I can’t let you all go alone.”

“No,” Ariel shook her head at them as they flew towards the third floor, “Go and Owl Dumbledore, and then get my father.”

“You’ve _got_ to be joking.” He looked disgusted.

“Someone needs to know what’s happening!” she gave him a knowing look, “Quirrell just _grabbed_ Harry… I hate to admit it, but if it hadn’t been for Draco’s spying, we might’ve been too late.”

“I’m not playing messenger!” Damon said angrily, “Just because I’m not a bloody Gryffindor doesn’t mean I can’t help!”

“Trust me, telling my father is going to take a hell of a lot of bravery.”

“So you give _me_ the dirty work?”

“I’m not giving you anything!” Ariel turned around, “Hell, I don’t want Ron and Hermione coming with me —”

“Hey!” said Gryffindors protested.

“ — but I’m not going to force them to stay behind.” Ariel finished, giving them both a grateful look, “But you both _don’t_ have to come. I’d never ask you to, and I know Harry wouldn’t either.”

Ron rolled his eyes as he nudged Hermione, “I think we’ll take our chances.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, but nodded in agreement vehemently.

“Ariel…” Damon grabbed her hand as they rounded the corner to the third floor corridor, “Ariel, _please!”_

She went to tell him again to go and get her father, but she choked on her words when she saw her brother’s cloak in a heap just in front of the door that Fluffy was behind.

“Oh!” Hermione gasped, “Malfoy was right!”

Ron picked it up, grim determination setting in his blue eyes as Ariel stepped forward. Damon still hadn't let go of her hand. He’d gone oddly quiet as they all stared at the Invisibility cloak. 

“Don’t die.” Damon whispered then, his blue eyes begging her, “Promise me.”

 _Don’t,_ her inner Severus shrieked.

“I won’t.” Ariel vowed, “I’m grabbing Harry and that Stone. I’ll try and get out as fast as I can.”

She thought of her Mum and Dad and James and what Voldemort had done to them, and then, took a deep breath and willed Harry to still be alive, her heart reaching out for him.

And then she pushed open the door to face whatever lay below.

* * *

Severus watched as the minutes ticked by. Ten… fifteen… twenty…

The girl had left a note.

 _She’ll be back,_ his inner Hufflepuff told him. Ariel knew how dire the situation was. Just to check on the boy and then she would come back…

 _Go and GET HER,_ the Slytherin in him screamed, _she is reckless and a child and a Gryffindor who doesn’t know her limits._

The boy hadn’t come either. Severus had expected him to come willingly. If anything, the note had been more of a warning. He’d planned on going and bringing Potter down here himself when he didn’t show up, but after leaving his quarters for a mere _ten minutes_ to check on a potion brewing, he’d come back to find Ariel’s door wide open and a note on his desk.

_Twenty-one… twenty-two…_

Severus was going mad. He was going to skin her alive when she got back, whether Ariel hated him or not.

And then, there was a frantic knocking at the door. Severus paused, awaiting a call of some kind, for her hadn't the patience to be a professor, or a Head of House right now, for that matter.

“Professor, please!” a muffled voice pleaded. It sounded like Bellatrix’s son.

Severus stifled the urge to bury his face in his hands and glided towards the door, jerking it upon and looking down upon the little monster malevolently.

“Please, sir!” the boy gasped for breath, “Quirrell’s taken Harry and Ariel’s gone after him!”

He heard nothing after that. Not the part about Granger or Weasley, not the part about an owl being sent for Albus, and certainly not the part about why he wasn’t moving.

_I won’t let him_

“I’m going to fucking kill her.” Severus said to no one.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: 1. Snape is a dick and 2. For not much longer. This chapter was painful to write, just because of how he doESN’T COMMUNICATE PROPERLY.
> 
> Thank you for all the reviews last chapter — they’re incredibly encouraging. Thank you, really and truly, for letting me know some of you are still out there :)


	32. Dixit Dominus

Her heart seemed to be growing inside her chest, expanding its way so that it was squeezing her chest and clogging her throat.

Ariel peeked out from behind a stone column, her fear quickly turning into a burst of adrenaline that coursed through her veins at the sight. Harry was being held midair by thin ropes bound to his wrists and ankles. His wand lay just out of his reach, seemingly forgotten by both her brother and the man with his back turned to them.

Ariel recognized that turban anywhere, and when he finally spoke, she fought back to sneer.

“I see the Stone… I’m presenting it to my Master… but where is it?” Quirrell was muttering to himself, standing in front of a large mirror Ariel had never seen before.

Harry struggled against the binding a bit, twisting his head around in search for what Ariel assumed to be some kind of way for him to escape. She wondered if Quirrell had said why he’d grabbed him in the first place — she wondered why he was talking to himself, but she figured that it probably didn’t matter.

_“Harry!”_ Ariel hissed, poking her head out from the behind the pillar.

His head snapped to the direction of her voice, green eyes widening when they landed on her.

“I’m going to get you out of here.” She whispered fiercely, “Get ready to grab your wand.”

Harry nodded and bit, a determination setting into his face that Ariel caught sight of briefly before he turned back to the still-muttering Quirrell.

“But Snape always seemed to hate me so much.” Harry said, mocking shock and childish questioning in his voice.

“Oh, he does.” Quirrell said casually, like he was discussing the weather while baking a cake instead of holding a person hostage and trying to resurrect a Dark Lord, “Heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with your father, didn’t you know? They loathed each other.”

Ariel’s stomach sank to the floor at this. Her wand tightened in her hand.

“But I… I don’t understand.” Harry continued, “I’ve heard him threatening you…”

“Yes… your sister interrupted one of those, if I recall correctly. Put Severus in quite a foul mood for several days.” Quirrell sounded like he was getting annoyed, “What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!”

Harry craned his neck to look at Ariel in confusion, who stared right back. He was calling out for Voldemort? But surely he didn’t expect…

But to her absolute horror, a voice answered that seemed to be coming from Quirrell himself, _“Use the boy… use the boy…”_

_“Ariel Potter…”_ The same voice had called out yesterday morning.

Her blood ran cold.

Quirrell rounded on Harry, “Yes… Potter! Come here!” He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Harry fell off.

Once Ariel recovered from the wave of terror that had crashed through her at the sound of the second voice, she sprang forward, pointed her wand at Quirrell.

“He’s not going anywhere!” She snarled, shoving her brother behind her as he reached down to scoop up his wand.

“Ah, the _other_ one.” Quirrell muttered, like he’d been expecting her, but hoping she wouldn’t show, “A big sister to the rescue, then? How _charming.”_

“It’s not going to work.” Ariel tensed and willed her body to stop shaking, “Dumbledore’s on his way back here now. He’ll stop you.”

“And in the meantime?” He laughed, a harsh sound that caused her to grab Harry’s arm, who was slowly trying to inch his way around her, “What could two children do that could possibly stop us?”

_“Us?”_ Harry echoed, stepping to the side so that he and Ariel were now standing side by side.

Quirrell smiled, a tightness in his lips that made a shiver gone down Ariel’s spine. He said nothing in response, but stepped sideways, out of their line of view. She trained her wand on him, eyes never leaving his face, until Ariel realized that he had moved so that they could see something.

It was a mirror, twice as, maybe even three, tall as they were with the words _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_ carved at the very top. As their eyes searched it for some kind of meaning, Quirrell waved his hand, and with two cries of distress, their wands flew from their grips involuntarily. 

Now they were wandless, and lost as to what he planned to do.

Ariel sent Quirrell a vicious glare and looked back to the mirror, watching her and Harry’s reflections staring back at them with the same frightened and confused expressions on their faces. She glanced back to Harry, who was white in the face, and then back to Quirrell.

“What is this?” Ariel whispered, “It’s just a mirror…” 

“Look again, girl!” Quirrell snapped, taking two steps towards her quickly with his wand drawn, “Look again, and tell me what it is the both of you see!”

“But there’s nothing — _oh!”_ Harry let out a startled yelp, jumping about a foot in the air. He whirled around, as if he was expecting to be standing behind him, looking all the more alarmed when he found no one there.

“What is it?” Ariel grabbed his arm. “Did he —”

“You…” His eyes were glued to the mirror. “You don’t see it?”

Ariel went to ask him what _he_ was seeing that _she_ wasn’t as a knowing smile spread over Quirrell’s face. She slowly turned back to the mirror, her breath catching in her throat as she stepped away from it, half joy, half terrible sadness welling up inside her like some powerful kind of ache she didn’t think she’d ever be able to stop.

It was her mother, who’s wine-colored hair and green eyes shined against the candlelight, making her look all the more ethereal than in pictures. Her hand was resting on her brother’s arm, who was smiling back at her with such sincerity that Ariel almost let the sob building up in the back of her throat escape. To Lily’s left, however, was the part that tore her from the reality of their situation.

It was her father, who was wearing such an adoring smile that for a moment, Ariel didn’t recognize him. Severus never smiled, never looked happy. His black eyes were watching Lily, and then they moved to Harry, his long hand reaching to ruffle his hair.

Her father’s eyes met hers, and they held so much in them pride and love that her heart nearly cracked in her chest.

_“Dad?”_ Ariel croaked, unable to believe her eyes.

“You see?” Harry breathed.

It seemed that hadn’t been the response Quirrell wanted, for he cursed loudly.

“You’re useless!” He snarled, stalking forward and pushing Ariel to the floor. “I was planning on killing you anyway, but now you’re just a waste of time!”

She fell, landing hard on her back and sliding back a couple of feet across the stone floor. Harry let out an angry cry, reaching for her as Quirrell grabbed his arm and forced him forward.

“Tell me what you see, boy!” He held a wand to Harry’s throat as Ariel jumped up.

“Let him _go!”_ She shouted, “He doesn’t know anything!”

“Silence!” Quirrell bellowed back, gripping the back of Harry’s neck tightly, “Now, Harry Potter, you are going to tell me what you see in this mirror, or,” He pointed his wand back at Ariel, “your sister’s death will be longer than I had originally planned. Or perhaps I’ll just kill you… either option works for me.”

Every breath was beginning to hurt from the cold that invaded her lungs. Ariel focused her gaze on Harry, who’s back was turned to her, and then to Quirrell’s sneer, and tensed.

“No!” Harry struggled under his grip, “Leave her alone! Don’t!”

“Tell me then, boy!” Quirrell threatened, “Tell me what you see in the mirror!”

“Don’t do it, Harry.” Ariel called to him in a steady voice, even though she had no clue what Quirrell was looking to gain by Harry telling him what he saw. She’d already guessed what it had been by his reaction —  Harry must have seen what she had, more or less — his parents.

Harry gave her a pained look, but she only shook her head as Quirrell grabbed his hair and forced him to look back into the mirror.

“I… I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore,” Harry invented, “I’ve won the House Cup for Slytherin.”

Ariel stood up slowly, watching Quirrell’s face as he considered this admission. Harry had gone as still as a statue. Quirrell’s face was twisting in and out of anger and calculation, giving Harry one last frustrated snarl before pushing him away.

Relief burst somewhere in Ariel as she rushed forward to catch him, both of them gripping each other's arms as Quirrell began to pace furiously in front of the mysterious mirror. Harry eyes never left him, but his hand grabbed Ariel’s and put it against his robe pocket, where something hard lay inside.

Ariel looked at him questioningly for a moment, but realization slowly crept up on her as he only nodded his head in affirmation. She asked him _how_ with her eyes, but Harry only shook his head as they slowly began to retreat backwards.

_“He lies…”_ A voice called that was most _definitely_ not Quirrell's, for his lips didn’t move, _“He lies… let me speak to them… face to face…”_

They both watch, petrified, as Quirrell’s face turned to outright concern, “Master, you are not strong enough!”

_“I have strength enough…”_ The voice hissed, _“for this.”_

The Devil’s Snare Hermione had taken down seemed to root her to the spot where she stood. Ariel clutched at Harry, both of them pulling each other close as they watched Quirrell reach up and begin to unwrap the large, purple turban she’d never seen him once go without all this year.

He slowly turned, and Ariel let out a scream — Harry yelped.

Where there should have been a back to Quirrell’s head, there was a _face._ It was bone white, so light that it almost seemed to glow like a full moon on a clear night. It had high cheekbones that made it seem harsh, sharp and bony with two small slits for nostrils. But the worst part were the eyes, redder than Ariel’s hair, like fresh blood and searing themselves into their minds.

“What is…” Harry paled. “Who —”

“Ariel Potter…” It hissed, long and drawn out like a snake, “Harry Potter… see what I have become? Mere shadow and vapor… I form only when I can share a body. I had hoped I would be able to meet you both properly with a body of my own… but it seems circumstances are not yet in my favor.”

Ariel simply stared, a part of her fighting to regain control of her legs. She’d gone so numb that it almost hurt, the only thing she _could_ feel being the hand Harry was squeezing in her own. She wasn’t even sure he was aware he was doing it.

“Voldemort?” she whispered, unable to believe her eyes.

“You dare speak his name!” Quirrell screeched, though he did not turn.

“Silence!” Voldemort snarled. “The girl will learn her lesson in time. For now, her ignorance will suffice.”

“Why now?” Harry whispered, “You’ve had all year to attack us… why kidnap _me?”_

“Did you not conclude it was I in the Forest?” The face gave a terrible smile, “I could not have the both of you running about the school with that information… knowing you had seen me feeding on the unicorn. Killing you, Harry Potter, was my original plan, yes, but then I decided to use you to my advantage. After all, those of us placed into Slytherin must stay together. I wanted to see if you would prove yourself useful… find that perhaps there were more similarities that met the eye.”

“I’ll never be anything like you!” Harry shouted, looking disgusted.

“Then you and your sister will meet the same end as your parents!” It hissed, “They died begging me for mercy…”

_That_ awoke Ariel from the state she had entered into. A hot fire ran through her veins at his words, filling up her chest and head as her vision blurred.

_“LIAR!”_ She screamed, trying to pull her brother behind her. She had to get him out of here with that Stone!

“That’s not true!” Harry pulled forward, breaking out of Ariel’s hold.

“How touching…” The face said in a mocking voice, “How you Gryffindors value your bravery. Yes, girl, your parents were brave. I killed your father first, and he put up a courageous fight… but your mother needn’t have died. You do resemble the Mudblood very much, if I recall correctly.”

“Don’t call her that!” Ariel snarled, “My parents were ten times the wizards you ever were!”

The face’s eyes glittered murderously, “Your parents weren’t smart enough to stand aside when I came to end the both of you that night, and it seems they’ve imparted their wisdom onto you as well.” Its eyes flitted to Harry, “Now, what about you, Harry Potter? Will you willingly hand me the Stone in your pocket, or will I have to pry it from your dead hands?”

They both froze, red eyes glittering as they locked onto it’s prey.

“Run.” Ariel whispered to Harry.

And then Quirrell lunged.

* * *

_“Run.”_ Harry heard her whisper, and then, just as Quirrell lunged forward, Ariel pushed him aside, holding her hands out in front of her to embrace herself for the impact.

The voice was shrieking, commanding Quirrell, “The _boy,_ you fool! Grab the _boy!”_

He snarled as he screeched to a halt, lifting a hand to strike Ariel across the face with a loud _CRACK_ that made Harry’s blood boil. He stumbled to the floor as his scar burst open in white hot pain, worse than that night in the Forest. Harry held his forehead, crying out and forcing himself to keep his eyes open to watch as Ariel fell to the floor.

“Leave her ALONE!” Harry roared, but his yell was lost over the sound of the professor’s horrified gasp.

“Master! M-my _hands!”_ There was smoke rising from them.

Harry could even see Quirrell’s skin beginning to blister from his place on the floor. A wave of pain fell over him again and he fought against it to watch Ariel struggle to get up — she was kneading her forward. Voldemort didn't seem to hear Quirrell’s cries, because his red eyes focused themselves on Harry, sprawled across the stone floor, wandless and clearly disoriented.

“Join me, Harry Potter.” The voice breathed, “Stand by my side, and together we can bring your parents back. It was they whom you saw in the mirror, was it not? Together, we can find a way…”

Harry’s legs had gone numb. The ache he’d felt in his heart just moments ago at their image took hold, squeezing like a vise and rendering him incoherent. He wanted that so much… so much more than he’d ever realized…

“Run, Harry!” Ariel shouted again, her voice hoarse. Her eyes were scrunched closed, through her hand was reaching towards him, “Don’t listen to him! Take the Stone and run!”

“Such nobility!” Voldemort sneered as Quirrell wobbled to his feet, “Just like your filthy Mudblood mother — how she begged for your lives! I told her to stand aside, for Lord Voldemort is merciful, but she refused. It was a waste…”

“GO HARRY!” She cried, looking at him with such desperation that it jolted him back to reality. He rose to his feet, glaring at the taunting face. It scowled at his expression, and the red in it’s eyes seemed to deepen.

“The _BOY!”_ The voice shouted, rabid with fury, “Kill the girl, silence her once and for all, and take the Stone!”

Quirrell turned towards Ariel, who was at his feet, and mercy, lifting his wand to deliver a deadly curse. Harry pushed himself to his feet despite the blinding torment raging on through his scar, and propelled himself towards Quirrell’s turned back, the side of him that held Voldemort himself.

“SEIZE HIM!” Voldemort screamed as Harry reached out to tackle him. Quirrell whirled around, his good hand closing around Harry’s wrist.

His scar crescendoed into a needle-like pain, but he continued to struggle, determined to help his sister, who let out a startled yelp. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Harry thought that she must be experiencing the same agony, but that was the last thing on his mind right now.

To his shock, Quirrell let go, the hand he’d grabbed Harry with now blistering as badly as the other.

“Master, I cannot hold him!” Quirrell howled, “My hands!”

Harry lifted his eyes to find Ariel’s fixed on the now distracted Quirrell. She lifted her head and began to position herself, swinging herself legs around so that they crashed into Quirrell-Mort’s, and he came tumbling to the ground.

“Why you _little —”_ Quirrell snarled, reaching forward for her with red hands that looked like they’d been doused in flames.

_“KILL HER!”_ Voldemort screeched, his voice high like pipes shrieking with steam, _“KILL THE BOTH OF THEM AND BE DONE WITH IT!”_

Quirrell’s raw hands clasped around Ariel’s ankle as she began to crawl away, causing her to yell out in surprise. Harry’s arm was screaming in pain now that the one in his forehead had diminished a bit, but he didn’t dare run. Not without his sister.

“Let _go of me!”_ Ariel struggled as Quirrell’s hands closed around her throat.

The professor continued moaned in agony as his hands burned, but the face on the back of his head wasn’t showing any signs of giving up just yet. Ariel thrashed and coughed and gasped upon the ground, fighting the hands that were trying to squeeze the life out of her.

Something ignited in Harry’s chest. All he could see was red where Quirrell was concerned.

He sprang forward with a battle cry of, “Let go of _MY SISTER!”_

_“KILL HIM! KILL HIM!”_ Voldemort sounded frantic now, anger burning and making the air around them hard to breath.

Harry grabbed the top of Quirrell’s bald head, knowing exactly what would happen.

The man wailed as the red welts began to appear on the top of his head, releasing Ariel from the choke hold. She sat upon and skittered away, coughing and gasping for breath as Harry ran towards her.

“We have to touch him!” He gave her an urgent shake as she struggled for air, “He can’t touch us without hurting himself! We have to keep hold of him!”

Ariel nodded, still coughing, tears running down her face. She grabbed his hand and they both stood, poised to attack as Quirrell writhed and moaned, hunched over on the ground.

But before they could attack, something unexpected happened.

Quirrell’s twisted figure leaned forward, his nose practically touching the ground. There was a roaring as he writhed and pleaded as the back of his head, where the chalk-white face and blood-red eyes lay, began to bellow an incantation. Harry could tell that it was some kind of dead language, Latin perhaps. He couldn’t decipher it, with the throbbing in his head and arm. Voldemort spoke continuously, not even stopping to take a breath. Harry felt paralyzed as they listened, the both of them clutching each other tightly, he himself making sure to keep his free hand around the Stone still in his pocket.

A great mist rose from the back of Quirrell’s head, then, hiding the hideous face that had been shouting their death sentence. It was eerily quiet as they watched it ascend, gaining in mass and color. Two red dots were visible.

They were disturbingly familiar.

“What… what’s he doing?” Ariel rasped.

_“Potters,”_ it said in a voice that sounded like it was filled with dirt, _“I will return, and when I do, you will curse this day until you are both begging for death.”_

And then, with one last scream, the sound of one’s soul being ripped from their body, it was gone.

Nothing filled the still air except for everyone’s labored breathing for a long, pregnant pause. Quirrell began to whimper something unintelligible, looking around as though he’d lost something.

“Master…” He looked half mad, “Master… where… where have you…”

Ariel tugged at Harry’s arm, trying to lift him to his feet. He couldn’t feel them.

“Harry, come _on!”_ She whispered in a frightened voice, “We have to go… we have to get the Stone to safety…”

“LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE!” Quirrell screamed suddenly, his eyes locking onto the both of them, “My Master has abandoned me! He thinks me useless!”

Quirrell’s eyes glittered, his eyelids now heavy, as though he were fighting off unconsciousness. Harry wondered how he was still _alive,_ putting himself between Ariel and the approaching figure that had begun to smile maniacally. Half of his face was melting off at this point, hanging off him like elephant skin. Ariel let out a sound of revulsion, crawling backwards on her elbows as Quirrell grabbed his wand from inside his robes, and pointed it at the two of them.

“NO!” Harry cried, knocking Ariel to the ground a second time just as a beam of red light hit the wall behind them.

“Run!” she choked out, pulling herself, and Harry along with her, to their feet.

Hands still linked, the bolted for the exit. Harry could feel his heart thundering in his ears, willing his legs to move faster and faster.

_“Crucio!”_

The spell hit Ariel square in the back, and she went down, a scream ripping through the smoky air, and Quirrell laughed. The skin around his jaw was practically touching the floor.

“WHAT DID YOU DO?” Harry shouted, “STOP IT!”

Quirrell didn’t seem to hear him — he was creeping towards Harry. He tried to move away, tried to get to his sister, but his chest _hurt_ and his head was throbbing, like he’d been hit by a train, and then a bus.

“N-no!” Harry gasped, black spots covering his vision. Quirrell’s hands closed around his neck and squeezed —

_“STUPEFY!”_ A voice boomed, so loud and strong that it reverberated inside of Harry’s skull. It sounded like a roar of thunder ripping through the sky.

He knew something had happened when he could breathe again. Harry shot up like a bullet, choking and sputtering as fresh air invaded his lungs.  The Stunner hit had Quirrell in the head, sending him flying backwards, where he moved no more.

Snape was standing in the archway, his face twisted into something inhuman. He looked like he could cut somebody’s throat with a quill.

He stalked over to Harry, his eyes locking onto his. Harry couldn’t talk — couldn’t move — Quirrell had… Voldemort —

_“Breathe,_ Potter.” said Snape.

Harry let out the breath he’d unconsciously been holding in. Ariel was struggling to sit up, panting. All the color had drained from her face. He glanced over at Quirrell’s body, which looked like it was deflating. His skin sizzled and popped. Each sound made Harry flinch. He was unable to tear his eyes from the broken body until something big and black was kneeling across from him.

The expression on Snape’s, however, made Harry’s blood curdle, making him feel even more light headed than he was already. His head was aching like his skull had been shattered. Snape’s face was illuminated eerily, making it look cold, but with something burning underneath. His eyes had turned into marbles.

“Dad...” Ariel croaked as one of Snape’s hands elevated the back of her head, “He was living off of Quirrell…”

“Stop talking.” The words felt like a slap, but held something more that made Harry’s heart tighten in his chest.

Her face went slack then, eyelids fluttering shut as Snape gathered her in his arms. His face was twisting in and out of passiveness and unabashed guilt.

“Ariel?” Harry gave her a shake, alarmed.

“She’s fine.” Snape’s voice didn’t sound right to him as his green eyes flickered about, “Are you hurt?”

“Good.” He nodded, swallowing his relief as the floor blurred before him, “I’m… I think I’m…”

And then, there was nothing.


	33. Take Your Time

Something crashing woke Harry from his slumber, groggily sitting up and looking about with half interest, half confusion. He was in a bed, surrounded by white curtains on all sides, though he could see shapes of people to his left moving about. He winced as a sharp pain shot through his arm, finding that his arm was in a sling.

“If you had _half_ of a fucking mind, you would _get your hands off of me —”_

“Severus…” Dumbledore’s voice was nearly drowned out by the sound of things smashing, like boulders were being broken with pots and pans or something, “Poppy has already said she is going to be just fine. Let her do her job.”

“She can do her goddamn job with me by her side!” Snape’s shout jolted Harry out of whatever remaining haze was still fogging his mind. Something large and heavy fell over, and then, it was so quiet that Harry could hear his own heartbeat in his ears.

“She’s not going anywhere, Severus.” a new voice that sounded like Madam Pomfrey sighed, “They were never in any direct danger… they’ll be just fine.”

“Yes, just _fine.”_ Snape sneered, “I’d like to have seen _your_ reaction if you’d found the both of them the way they were. But no, while you were off gallivanting at the Ministry —”

“Quirrell could not have harmed them.” Dumbledore said in a patient voice, “Not with the magic that protects them from Lily’s —”

“If I hear one more time about how _no harm_ could have _possibly —”_

“I speak only the truth, Severus.”

“THEN TELL ME WHY THEY’RE BOTH LYING IN HOSPITAL BEDS!” Snape roared, “He used an Unforgivable, Albus! If I had gotten there a second later, it could have been the Killing Curse!”

Their voices lowered, then. Harry could only make out a soft, reassuring one that he labeled as the Headmasters, and low, angry mutterings from Snape. The curtain to his left ripped open with a clatter, and before he knew it, Madam Pomfrey was running some Diagnostic spell on him and Dumbledore was at Harry’s right.

“Ah, Harry! I’ve seen you’ve finally decided to join us!” The Headmaster’s blue eyes sparkled, like the fact that Snape’s shouting and the loud crashing _hadn’t_ disturbed his slumber.

He simply blinked back up at him, his mind trying desperately to play catch up. Madam Pomfrey sighed at the results of the Diagnostic, and bustled out of the curtain-made room, allowing Harry to see into the bed that had been hidden to him.

 _“Ariel!”_ He cried, immediately ripping off his blankets.

She was asleep, head turned away from him so that all he could see was a nest of red hair. All the yelling hadn’t seemed to have woken her up and Harry wondered if Madam Pomfrey or Snape had given her some kind of sleeping potion. 

“She’s just fine, my dear boy.” a wrinkled and worn, but stern, hand placed itself onto Harry’s shoulder, “If she awakens, you’ll be the first to know. For now, it’s best to let her rest.”

“What happened?” He demanded, making no move to get back in the bed, “Did… did You-Know-Who get the Stone? He and Quirrell…”

Harry swallowed the bile that gathered in the back of throat at the memory. The pale face… those burning embers of eyes… that thick, black smoke… Quirrell’s face melting off…

“Dead.” Dumbledore said, a bit of the twinkle diminishing, “Or at least, Quirrell is. Voldemort has fled.”

Something small and sounding like glass shattered from somewhere nearby. Dumbledore still pretended as though things hadn’t been breaking.

Snape was at his sister’s side, hunched over her like he was expecting her to shoot up out of the bed any second and try and make a run for it. If he’d heard Harry, he didn’t make it known, for his eyes never left his sister’s face. They were cold, black marbles that held such a concentration in them that they made Harry feel uneasy. It was a hunger, a longing, maybe, that twisted his intestines and made him squirm.

“He’s… _dead?”_ Harry asked uneasily, turning back to the Headmaster slowly.

“Quite.” Dumbledore said very matter-of-factly.

Snape let out a snarl that nearly sounded feral.

Harry lowered his eyes to the hands in his lap, remembering how Quirrell’s skin had begun to blister under his touch. Harry had skittered backwards just as Quirrell charged him, Ariel throwing herself in front of him and shouting for him to run… how she’d _screamed…_

“I didn’t mean to kill Quirrell!” Harry said quickly when the Headmaster quirked an eyebrow at his lack of immediate remorse, “I only wanted to stop him from getting the Stone!”

“Fear not, my dear boy.” Dumbledore gave his knee a reassuring pat, “I could never hold you or your sister responsible. Miss Granger and Mr Weasley made it quite clear that you were taken against your will. You should feel lucky, Harry, to have such loyal friends like them. They aided your sister in your rescue. I’d bet my favorite pair of socks Mr Weasley is under inquisition by Professor McGonagall as to just how he defeated that chess set.”

Harry shot a quick glance at Snape, who had closed his eyes. He was so stiff that if someone touched him, Harry was quite sure he would shatter.

“I’m afraid I’ve eaten some of the candy your admirers have sent you.” Dumbledore admitted with a chuckle, gesturing to the baskets Harry was just now seeing, filled with flowers and treats, “You’ve been asleep for quite some time and I couldn’t help myself. Professor Snape lit one of Ariel’s on fire by accident before, I believe.”

“She’ll live.” Snape hissed. Harry got the impression he wanted the Headmaster to leave.

“Is the Stone protected now, then?” He asked, not really caring at all about the conversation happening around him.

“In a manner of speaking.” Dumbledore reached for an opened basket, popping something pink into his mouth and crunching away merrily, “The Stone has been destroyed, so yes, I suppose it is rather secure from forces like Voldemort.”

Harry blinked, _“Destroyed?_ But Nicolas Flamel —”

“Will die, yes.” he gave Harry a sad smile, “But we both agreed, after I returned and found you and your sister, of course, that the Stone may do more harm than good. So yes, he will die, but fear not. Nicolas and his wife have lived enough for a hundred lifetimes. They are content with their decision.”

Harry went quiet, then, recalling all the trouble he’d gone through in the preceding months to solve the mystery with Ron and Hermione. To have something so powerful destroyed seemed like a terrible waste to Harry, especially after Quirrell taking him and commanding him to tell him what lay within that strange mirror… his sister getting hurt…

“Is Ariel alright?” Harry asked softly, looking back over at the tangled curls. Snape’s facial muscles seemed to tighten at the question.

“She’ll be just fine, my boy.”

He bit his lip and looked away, “She came after me, didn’t she? After all the horrible things I said to her, she could have _died…_ she just wouldn’t _move,_ no matter how many times I told her. _I_ had the Stone and Ariel wouldn’t let Quirrell… or Voldemort, rather, at me.”

Dumbledore transfigured a seat beside Harry’s bed for himself, leaning back in it and looking thoughtful, “Curious… I recall a similar circumstance almost ten years ago.”

“Really?” Harry leaned forward curiously, “What?”

“Your mother.” He said softly, blue eyes softening, “She, my dear boy, is why you could not be harmed.”

 _“Albus.”_ Snape spoke up, his voice a ferocious rasp, “He needn’t know such things.”

“On the contrary, Severus, I believe young Harry deserves and would like to know just how he and Ariel made it out of there alive.” He looked at Harry expectantly, “Am I correct?”

He nodded back cautiously, looking at Snape from the corner of his eye. The longing and concern that had been there when Harry first saw him had been replaced with rage and vexation.

“It will be almost a year since you’ve met your sister for the first time.” Dumbledore leaned forward, clasping his hands together, “I trust that Ariel told you of the night your parents died?”

“A little,” Harry admitted, “though she talked more about the thing with our scars…”

He nodded, “Your shared marks bear an important part in all this, yes. But the night that Voldemort came to kill the both of you, when Lily Potter cast herself in between you both and him, she offered you the ultimate protection. That scar,” He pointed to it and Harry rubbed it absentmindedly, “shows her sacrifice. It offered you both the ultimate protection from those who wish to harm you. Her love was so powerful, that when Voldemort cast the Killing Curse upon you, it rebounded and destroyed him. So long as your mother’s blood runs through your veins, he cannot touch you.”

Something went _crack,_ and when Harry turned towards the noise, he found that a glass filled with water had a large fracture down the middle. Snape had gone very still.

“So then… how come the curse Quirrell used on Ariel worked?” Harry flinched at the memory.

Snape’s head turned towards at his words, eyes ablaze and seemingly trying to incinerate the Headmaster’s head off.

“Yes, Albus.” His voice dripped with venom so potent Harry was sure a single drop to him would kill him, his mother’s sacrifice or not, “Explain how _no harm could have possibly_ come to either of them, when I had to pry his hands off of Potter’s _neck.”_

“There are limits, Severus.” Dumbledore sighed wearily, “As I explained to you before, magic holds far more power than sheer will or a physical blow.”

“Good to know.” Snape seethed, “I’ll keep that in mind that next time the Dark Lord attaches himself to someone’s cranium and tries to murder children.”

“You nor I could have considered this as a possibility.”

“Shut up, Albus.” Snape bit out, lowering his eyes back to Ariel angrily.

Dumbledore gave Harry a knowing look before rubbing his face tiredly, shaking his head. Harry gave him a sympathetic look, one that was returned with a smile.

“If you don’t my mind, how, may I ask, did you come to receive the Stone?” Some of the curious sparkle returned to the old man’s eyes.

Harry hesitated, “That mirror… the one that shows us what we want most, it had the Stone, didn’t it?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” Dumbledore nodded, “But to be more specific, it shows you your heart’s greatest desire.”

They had been just as they appeared in pictures, except this time, his mother had been crying. He’d wanted to stare at them forever, sit and stare at his parents and pick up the similarities between them, something he couldn’t do very well with tiny pictures. In that mirror, they were lifelike and standing right beside him, looking at _him._ They’re longing seemed almost as great as his own, and his sister had looked so happy instead of the forlornness she’d been radiating these past several weeks…

“I saw my parents.” Harry looked up, his hope of something more being promised by the mysterious mirror vanishing.

“But you could not have received the Stone if that were true.” He raised a silvery eyebrow.

“Well… no.” His face scrunched together in thought, “I knew Quirrell wanted me to somehow get the Stone _out_ of the mirror… I just… he was threatening to hurt Ariel —”

With a second _clink,_ the break in the glass of water grew.

“ — so I thought about how much I wanted to save her.” Harry explained quickly, “I thought about getting the Stone and making sure Voldemort didn’t get it. It changed then… I saw my reflection wink and take the Stone out of my robe pocket.”

“Ah, the cunning of Slytherin.” Dumbledore chuckled, giving him a pat of the shoulder, “I had hoped that you’d be able to retrieve the Stone for the Mirror of Erised if need be. It’s nice to hear my efforts were not wasted.”

Harry offered a tiny smile and nodded, but let his eyes wander back to his sister. He wished she would wake up.

The Headmaster rose then, seating himself next to Harry, “You made waves with your Sorting this year, Harry, but this display of nobility may just be the biggest yet. Slytherin needs someone strong to guide them back to a better place. Many of them still live in fear of the man, or what’s become of him, as you saw.”

He shuddered as the shapeless mist and high voice filled his head, but gave Dumbledore a grateful nod.

“I’ll leave you, then.” He gave Harry’s shoulder one last squeeze before he stood, giving Snape an understanding look, “Severus, my friend, Madam Pomfrey has everything under control. You should try and get some rest in the privacy of your quarters.”

“And _you_ should mind your business.” Snape shot back nastily.

Dumbledore bowed his head, offered Harry a wink, and was gone with the soft _swish_ of midnight blue robes. In his absence, Harry felt some of the tension radiating off of Snape begin to layer the air. He was still staring at Ariel with that peculiar look, like he was torn between inconsolable grief and a building rage. Dumbledore had left the curtain open, and now, Harry could see what had been making all the noise before.

It seemed that Snape had knocked over an entire metal cart of potions.

The words Harry had thrown at him yesterday… had it been yesterday? Harry hadn’t thought to ask what day it was. No matter, _whenever_ he’d shouted those things at Snape, he’d certainly meant every word of it.

After Ariel had mentioned that Snape had felt threatened by him, Harry had fought against the thought of _him_ being more justified in that regard rather than _Snape._ He’d _had_ ten years to raise and be with his sister. It had made him angry —  to think that Snape thought he had some claim on her, when really, it had been chance. If their parents hadn’t died, Snape wouldn’t have ever been in the picture, _especially_ if he’d hated James like Quirrell had said…

The thought made him turn his eyes away from his sleeping sister and the hooked-nose man, focusing his gaze on the rising (or was it setting?) sun outside. Had Snape and his father known one another? Ariel had said she hadn’t… but if he’d told her, wouldn’t that account for her strange behavior lately? Surely it would be enough to upset her… and Ariel _had_ been edgy and unpredictable…

Perhaps that was why Snape had lost his temper so drastically, then. The thought made a lump of guilt clog his throat, pushing his way up where Harry couldn’t ignore it. He could only imagine what it’d be like to hear that your kid wasn’t really _yours,_ but someone you hated…

“I’m sorry, sir.” Harry said, loud enough for Snape to hear, but not so much that Madam Pomfrey could. She was tending to someone on the other side of the infirmary.

Snape’s jaw moved, like he was squeezing his teeth together. His eyes didn’t leave Ariel’s face, which was still turned away from Harry.

“What are you apologizing for, Potter?” The words were a great sigh, like it had taken all of Snape’s strength to answer him.

He hesitated, regretting the words as soon as they’d left his mouth, “I… I thought when…”

“No, never mind, _stop.”_ Snape was now rubbing his temple forcefully, “I don’t want to hear an apology from you, Mr Potter. I’d very much like the exact opposite. I want you lie there and not say anything.”

Anger bubbled up inside his chest, “Why not? Wait, I could probably guess… since I’m James Potter’s son, it won’t matter either way, right?”

Snape’s black eyes snapped up in shock, and then a wall of defense rose in them.

“Quirrell told me.” Harry continued, praying he knew what he was doing in this unchartered territory.

“Of course he did.” Snape said flatly, but all he heard was _“I hope my Stunner was the very thing that killed him.”_

“Is it because I look like him? Everyone says I do.” He crossed his arms and tried to look as calm as he could from a hospital cot.

Snape had begun to pinch the bridge of his nose. Harry got the impression that he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to be having a conversation. Surely there should have been more yelling by now.

“That _has_ to be it. Because if it was just about me _being_ James Potter’s kid, then you’d hate Ariel too. And you obviously _don’t…_ so that must be it. Right?”

He still said nothing, and the longer the silence went on, the more the wheels in Harry’s head began to turn. It was suddenly all making sense.

“Ariel didn’t know, did she?” Harry demanded, “When you started being terrible to me, she had no clue. You must have told her… that’s why she was acting strange around Christmas! And then all of a sudden she was meeting you secretly…”

“You mustn’t blame her.” Snape sighed, his hand brushing over Ariel’s hair. “She was afraid of your reaction.”

“I don’t.” Harry paused, “At least, not anymore. How did _you_ keep it from her?”

“Truthfully…” He looked torn, as though he were saying something he shouldn’t, “I never wanted her to know.”

 _“Why?_ Why take her at all, then? If our father was such a horrible person —”

“She is nothing like him.” Snape snapped defensively.

“You couldn’t have known that when you first got her.” Harry pointed out.

“It was… _easier_ for me not to see her as such.”

“So… it _is_ because I look like him.” He concluded, trying hard to ignore the sting the admission brought with it, “But you didn’t… you didn’t even _try_ to see past it with me. You’ve known me since I was five…”

“The resemblance between you both is uncanny, yes.” Snape said dryly, “I expected you to have carried on the same arrogance your father did.”

“So you think I’m arrogant and insufferable and a self conceited brat?” Harry’s eyebrow rose with every title.

“I only mentioned the former.”

“So you think I’m _arrogant?”_ Harry clarified, trying to keep hurt out of his voice and stay poised. Snape wasn’t his father. Snape had _hated_ his. He shouldn’t care this much… should just stop talking right now…

“I think,” Snape finally moved his laser-beam stare from Ariel to Harry, “that I misjudged you, Potter. Your sister… she has been rather, shall we say, _adamant_ that I see past your resemblance to your father.” his lip curled, eyes averting themselves to the cot in front of him, “My apology to you Christmas was not at all genuine, but hear me now, Mr Potter — I saw what I wanted to see in you, and I regret it.”

Harry blinked, looking away and feeling every word reverberate in his mind, like they were vibrations that were never ending.

“So does that mean I’m _not_ like my father?” Harry asked, wondering how it was possible for one’s heart to soar and crash at the same time.

Snape seemed to be struggling with himself again, “You… you… do not radiate… the aspects of him that I… _loathe.”_

“Oh.” had that been a compliment? “Did you know our mum, then?”

It was the completely wrong question to ask, Harry realized as soon as the words left his mouth. Snape went rigid, his eyes glued to where they had laid before Harry had spoken. He even seemed to have stopped _breathing._

Harry was about to apologize again before he stopped himself. Why would a question about his _mum_ provoke such a response? They’d been friends… _maybe._ Ariel hadn’t seemed to have known much either, but if Snape placed his bias in looks…

“Sir?” Harry winced, waiting for impact.

“We were…” Snape’s eyes closed, and the next word was spoken like a defeat, _“friends.”_

Harry blinked in shock. He hadn’t been expecting him to say anything remotely close to that, “You _were?”_

“Yes, Potter, we _were.”_ His voice was biting and harsh. His tone told Harry that any more questions wouldn’t end well.

“Does Ariel know that?” Harry tried playing dumb.

“She does.” All Harry heard was _“now shut up about it.”_ Snape seemed to have a habit of giving things double meaning.

His head spun. Harry had heard all about James — he’d seen the awards in the trophy hall and the stories Ariel had told him about Quidditch. There were even _pictures_ of him around, but no one had ever really talked about Lily. He had so many questions…

But Harry couldn’t ask anymore. Snape looked like he was about to collapse in on himself, and Harry didn’t want to impose anymore. They were trying to make things _right,_ weren’t they?

“I’m sorry I thought you were after the Stone.” Harry said instead, almost snorting at the ridiculous thought aloud.

Snape raised an eyebrow, some of the tension melting off his shoulders, “Indeed?”

“And…” He hesitated, “for what I said the other night. I know Ariel loves you a lot… I never wanted her to just cut you off because you don’t like me. I don’t know what happened between you and my Dad… but I think he’d be happy to know you took good care of her despite it.”

The was a pause, and then, Snape gave a great sigh and said, “The Headmaster was right in saying Slytherin has gained a promising young wizard. You seem to have inherited the qualities that made your mother the brightest witch of our age.”

They said no more after this, for Harry was quite sure he would cry if he did. His arm had begun to ache again, but he didn’t want to interrupt Snape again. A battle had ignited in his eyes as Harry watched him sit with Ariel, who still had yet to awaken.

“She was very brave…” Harry said right before he closed his eyes to sleep again, “She kept yelling at me to run… that curse Quirrell used on her…”

Snape made a frightening noise in the back of his throat.

“You should be proud, is all I’m saying.” He muttered.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” He heard Snape say, but it sounded like it was a million miles away, somewhere where the world made better sense and he could finally find his way.

* * *

Severus couldn't move. He was afraid of it.

Ariel was still sound asleep, the boy propped up on several pillows Poppy had brought in with a book in his lap. Granger and Weasley had been at the door earlier, but the mediwitch had turned them away, stating that the Potters needed at least another day’s rest uninterrupted. Severus had silently thanked her, still trying to mend what was broken.

His mind had wandered while Ariel slept and the boy read. He recalled the day Bellatrix had pointed her wand at Lily during a battle, how this overwhelming rage had fell upon him like some unseen force. It had led him by the throat until he was shouting in rage… and then how he’d fled at the sight of his name being uttered from those lips…

Severus had heard the curse, but he hadn’t been there to stop it. He’d heard her screams… the boy pleading, crying… his insides had turned to ash…

_I won’t let him!_

She had promised that she wouldn’t go anywhere near the Stone. She’d promised promised _promised._

If Severus couldn’t believe in her words, then what was stopping her from running headfirst into death’s waiting arms? There had been nothing standing in between them and the Dark Lord… nothing to aid them except Lily’s sacrifice…

He’d found himself wanting the dark-eyed child that he could easily shield, the one Lily had held in a blanket and rocked… how easily he could have protected something so small…

If he hadn’t said what he had, the boy would have never been in a situation where Quirrell, the bastard, Potter would never have been taken. He wouldn’t have stormed out of Severus’ quarters and Ariel wouldn’t have gone after him… they’d both be safe and the Stone would be gone…

_A broken body on the nursery floor_

_A shaking mess sprawled across the stone_

Ariel hadn’t woken up yet, and for that, he was thankful.

“Severus?” Poppy interrupted his thoughts in a soft voice, much unlike the one she’d been using earlier when the meddling old codger tried to get Severus to retire to his quarters for the evening, “Minerva says there was a dispute between on of your Slytherins.”

“Of course she is.” Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and prayed it had nothing to do with Draco Malfoy, “Tell her I’m indisposed.”

“She’s just Floo’d me to ask you to come to her office — the Malfoy boys seemed to of had some sort of row.”

Of fucking course they had.

“Minerva knows the situation.” Poppy sounded weary and ready to get rid of him, “I’ve told her that you’re refusing to leave Miss Potter’s side. She said that if you aren’t in her office within the next fifteen minutes that’s she will come down here and forcibly _make_ you intervene in whatever chaos is unfolding.”

“Meddling witch.” Severus snarled at the sheets covering his daughter. Couldn’t the beasts contain themselves for a single _day_ in his absence?

Well, no matter, there would be hell to pay for whoever dared summon him when he was in such a state of mind. He didn’t think Ariel would be _too_ disappointed if Bellatrix’s brat went missing… she had Potter now…

Severus rose with a sigh, running a hand over Ariel’s hair before shooting the boy a glance. His nose was buried in a book of some kind about wandless magic — Poppy had brought it in from her office when she’d discovered the boy awake again. Severus thanked Merlin he hadn’t tried to ask about his parents again.

He rose, preparing his most put upon face for Minerva disappearing behind the curtain and drawing it closed just as a moan reached his ears. He screeched to a halt, leaning his ear in the direction of the children.

“Harry?” Ariel mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

He went to pull the curtain back and resume his place at her side, a Diagnostic already on his lips, when he felt himself stop involuntarily, and instead, listen.

“Right here.” Potter called, sounding incredibly relieved, “I wouldn’t move if I were you.”

“W-wha… what happened?” There was more rustling of sheets, “Where’s my dad? Is he okay?”

“He just stepped out.” There was a smirk in his voice.

“Is… is he alright?” Ariel sounded nervous.

“He’s fine. I think he’s just worried about you.” Severus heard Potter close his book.

Well, _that_ was the understatement of the year.

“Where’d he go?”

“To see Professor McGonagall. How do you feel?”

“Achy.” There was a frown in her voice, “What happened to your arm?”

“I think it’s fractured.”

“You don’t know for sure?” Ariel asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“No one really told me… I think they’re all freaked out after what happened. It doesn’t hurt much.”

And yet _another_ understatement. Severus also made a mental note to speak to Poppy about the boy’s arm on his way out.

“Is Dad okay?” Her voice was quiet, and then, louder, “I’m sorry, you wouldn’t know…”

“No, it’s alright.” Potter cleared his throat, “I er… we talked.”

“You _what?”_ Ariel’s tone suggested he’d grown a second head.

“Wouldn’t you rather hear about the Stone?” He said quickly, “Dumbledore was here a couple of hours ago…”

“Quirrell didn’t get it, did he? I heard Dad… right after… but by then, Quirrell was…” Severus heard her shudder, and so did he. He’d been nothing but a lump of rotting flesh by the time Dumbledore and Minerva had gotten there, Granger and Weasley at their sides.

“No, he didn’t.” Potter reassured her.

They were both went very quiet then, and Severus wondered if he should enter. But then he heard the boy take a deep breath, as though he were preparing himself for something, and held back the urge to rip back the curtain.

“I get it now.” The boy said, “I’m sorry.”

The girl made a noise of surprise, “Did… what did Dad —”

“I know about Mum and Dad. He… I don’t think we’re going to be making friendship bracelets anytime soon —”

Severus mentally snorted.

“ — but we reached a kind of common ground.”

“Wait, _Mum?”_ Ariel sounded like she was choking.

“Yeah,” Potter now seemed confused, “he mentioned they were friends, like you had said.” 

“He _did?”_

“Yeah… he told me himself.” Potter said quietly, “I’m sorry I got so defensive.”

 _“You’re_ sorry?” The girl sounded positively bewildered, “Harry, I… you should be…”

“I should be _what?”_

“You don’t _hate me?”_ The words were strangled.

 _“Hate you?”_ Potter echoed back, “Why would I hate _you?_ I thought you and your dad were talking about something terrible about me behind my back when you’d only just found out yourself… I feel awful.”

“Harry…” Ariel sounded wary, “He hated James.”

“I know.”

“He _really_ hated him. Like, enough to hate you for it. And I didn’t tell you. Because I was afraid of your reaction.”

“Yes, I guessed that. He was friends with mum, though…”

“That doesn’t make it _okay.”_ Severus’ heart twisted at her words, “Even if he apologized and meant it this time, you still have a right to be angry.”

“I _was_ angry.” Potter sighed, “And I’m sick of it. You were right last summer, Ariel. We’ve had ten years apart, and I don’t want to spend the next six not talking over something that isn’t our faults.”

“Harry…” Her voice was thick.

“Besides,” Potter said slyly, “it’s not in a Slytherin’s nature to be forgiving. I’ll strike back if need be.”

_Cheeky brat._

He could practically hear Ariel’s eye roll, “You’re both very dramatic, you know that. I don’t know how I put up with it.”

He hadn’t planned on speaking to the boy just yet, but he’d awoken, curiously and remorseful and Severus hadn’t the strength to hate the boy anymore. He had seen what it was doing to Ariel… how those blasted green eyes filled with a sadness every time Severus so much as _looked_ at him, and the self loathing has surpassed the level he’d already thought he’d met when Lily had died. The girl needed him. The boy _needed_ her.

Severus ground his teeth together and forced it back into that dark place where all his demons lived.

Potter laughed, then, and then he heard nothing. Severus backed away, wondering if he should leave or intrude now, when a loud voice filled the empty space of the infirmary.

“Severus SNAPE!” Minerva’s voice was snappish and grated on his eardrums.

He shot her a look that would make a first year catatonic, raising his finger to his lips as both pairs of their eyes flashed to the curtain that hid them. They hadn’t said anything for several minutes now…

He peeled back the curtain then, finding the boy curled up against Ariel, the pair of them fast asleep.

* * *

Exactly four nights after Madam Pomfrey let them leave the hospital wing did Ariel catch the tidbit of information she’d been trying to hunt down. It came come in the form of a Floo call from the Headmaster himself to her father in their quarters, where he’d ordered that Ariel and Harry stay. He’d barely said two words to her, save the occasional command of _“eat,”_ or _“bed,”_ or _“come,”_ so that he could run another Diagnostic on them. The after effects of the Cruciatus hadn’t been pleasant, but luckily, Ariel had managed to sleep through the majority of it. Harry, on the other hand, would have his arm in a sling for the next month.

Her father hadn’t so much as _looked_ at her since he’d brought them back from the infirmary. There was no mention of missed classes or what had happened with Quirrell from him, only an emotionless and aloof face watching them while they ate, checking in on them in the middle of the night as they slept. He’d spoken more to _Harry_ than he was to her, which was beginning to worry her greatly. Ariel had wanted her father and brother to be on good, or better, terms, but not when she and him _weren’t._

She distracted herself by barricading herself and Harry in her room, which Severus had transfigured a bed until he decided to release them. Neither of them had dared to object, _especially_ after the last row they’d had. Ariel got the sense that he was cooking up a punishment that the school would talk about for generations, but if he’d had any ideas, Severus wasn’t sharing them. He left them alone during the day to teach, room Warded against any lingering evil forces, which Ariel was sure was only Filch or Trelawney since Quirrell-Mort was gone, and returned in the evenings where he sat at his desk, scribbling away what they both presumed to be scathing insults on essays and homework.

Needless to say, Ariel and Harry had needed _something_ distract themselves from his cold, distant demeanor and the nightmare of Quirrell lurking in the back of their minds. So they’d waited for Severus to retire for the evening, waited to hear the sound of water turning on in the shower, and ducked under James’ Invisibility cloak and out into the cool air of the dungeons in search of a certain mirror.

They’d been sitting there since midnight, watching their parents side by side. Ariel had tried to talk as little as possible, for Harry did not know that it was Severus instead of James that appeared in the mirror for her, and the more she lied to him, the more she hated herself for it.

“You can come out now.” Ariel called quietly when her brother had taken his leave at dawn, stating that he wanted to try and catch Ron and Hermione before her father rounded them up and sentenced them to indefinite isolation for the escape in the dead of night.

She’d seen the ends of those all too familiar black robes as they’d taken the second floor corridor at a stride, not wanting to mention anything to Harry and spoil the moment. If her father had wanted to stop them, he would have, but Ariel got the feeling that he knew they needed this.

“I wanted to see her one more time.” She explained, turning back to the mirror as her father emerged from the shadows, un-Disillusioning himself.

Severus still said nothing as he stood behind her. Ariel could feel his robes swishing against her back and the air behind her tighten. She peered up at him, finding that he was no longer looking at her, but into the mirror. She could only begin to imagine what he was seeing, judging by the expression on his face.

Ariel looked away, feeling as though she were invading some private moment all of a sudden.

Her father did something like was very unlike him then —  he sat down beside her on the stone ground, jerking his head at her in an unspoken invitation for her to move closer. She did so without a second thought, crawling to his side and leaning her head against the soft fabric of his frock coat.

He finally gazed down at her, and when he did, Ariel wished he hadn’t.

His eyes were a one-way glass. She could only see the surface, not the things he held on the other side from her that she’d only been shown once. Everything seemed to reflect off of them, even herself, as she looked and searched, trying to find a way past the barriers Ariel could never seem to tear down.

Her father in the mirror wasn’t looking at her like that. He was beaming with love and happiness… and _pride._ All the light from the stars were in them, all the warmth Ariel had wanted him to feel and wanted herself. Not the guilt-ridden man who was still so terribly in love with her mum… who probably looked at her and saw Lily every time and made his heart ache the way it did when she’d yearned for her mother…

“You’re a meddlesome Gryffindor, you know that?” Severus growled against her hair, breaking her inner torment for the time being.

Ariel adjusted herself so that she was facing him, although she was still within the confines of his lap, “Dad, I’m…”

His eyes closed, like shutters on a house, hiding away what he hadn’t wanted her to see, “The thought of something happening to you unhinges me… of something happening to the _both_ of you. Losing you means that I’m lost, so please, do me the kindness of never, _ever_ throwing yourself into such a thoughtless, callous, dangerous situation again, or so help me, I’ll…”

_There is no world in which you or your brother die that I wish to exist_

It was in his voice — disappointment, a heavy weariness that made the circles under his eyes hollow. There was something new, though, that made her throat constrict and eyes prick.

Ariel threw her arms around him and hugged him with all her might. She willed it to stop… for him to somehow become the man in the mirror.

Her father gave a muffled grunt of discomfort.

“Sorry.” Ariel mumbled against him, lessening her iron grip.

He pried her off of him gently and Ariel tried not to feel hurt by this. His eyes had lightened a bit, his mouth twisting into a mocking scowl.

“I was _trying_ to get a point across.” Severus sighed.

She silently leaned into him again as the floodgate of tears poured down her cheeks. Her mum was watching her from the mirror with sad eyes now, her hand pressed against the glass as though she wanted Ariel to come closer.

“I’m sorry I scared you.” She said, meaning every word, “Is that why you’ve been so distant?”

“No,” Severus gritted his teeth, “I’ve been stifling the urge to shake you until your teeth rattle for taking on a homicidal maniac who would love nothing more than to see you and Potter _dead.”_

Ariel shrank away, “You’re angry, then?”

“With you? Beyond belief.” His voice became a low rumble, “However, in light of the fact that I lost my temper with your brother the other night, I find that perhaps… I drove you to it.”

“You didn’t do anything when it came to Quirrell.” Ariel shook her head, frowning back up at him, “I couldn’t just let him stand alone!”

“You could have _come and told me yourself_ instead of charging after him. What did you think it would accomplish?” Her father was beginning to sound angrier and angrier. 

“Harry might not have made it all by himself.” She hid her face against him despite the fact that he’d stiffened.

“Neither would you had I not come when I had.” His voice was rough now.

“That’s why I sent Damon.”

“You violated our promise.” Severus said crossly, but then sighed, “But then again, I did as well.”

“We _both_ broke that contract.” Ariel mumbled, sniffling and giving a small laugh, “It was a stupid idea, wasn’t it?”

She heard him pause, “No. We needed clarification on both ends after the events this year have brought with it. There needed to be communication… unfortunately, it seems, we both ignored in in the height of our emotions.”

“Like father, like daughter.” Ariel joked. Severus’ arms tightened around her.

They sat there, then, and let the silence do the talking for a while. Ariel shifted so that she was lying against Severus, but looking straight into the mirror with him, giving a small wave as Lily grinned and motioned for her to come closer. Harry was beaming, green eyes as bright as their mother’s, squirming uncontrollably in place as mirror-Severus _laughed…_

“Did you mean the apology this time?” She asked him while Lily began combing her fingers through reflection-Ariel’s hair. Did he see what she did?

She didn’t dare ask.

It took him a while to respond, “I did. Very much so.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.” It sounded like a promise. She gave him a tired smile. “Does that mean you’ll try and get to know him now?”

“Don’t push it.”

_“Dad.”_

“I made a promise, didn’t I?” Severus growled, giving her a little shake.

“You did.” Ariel conceded, and with that she let her eyes droop close. There were still a great many things they needed to discuss, still many bridges they hadn’t crossed, but in that moment, Ariel felt just a little better about the world and time before her, and surrendered unto sleep.

* * *

The boy.

The boy, and the girl, and Lily, dressed in white and beaming at him with those eyes that had been his only refuge…

He’d seen the boy in that damn mirror, and for the life of him, Severus

couldn’t

understand

_why._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Another double upload!
> 
> Alright, here we are end the end of Philosopher’s Stone… again. I think there’s going to be at least two chapters before we dive into CoS to transition – suggestions for what you’d like to see are really helpful, since I’m doing tweaking, and still rewriting these summer chapters for tomorrow!
> 
> Until then! Xx


	34. Coming Home

The end of term came _later_ rather than _sooner,_ as Ron had put it so cleverly their last morning at Hogwarts.

There had been no more talk of Stones or Ariel’s father and his bias. She’d spent her days with Harry and her friends, whether it was classes or Quidditch (which she still hated) or simply finding something to entertain themselves with. Ron and Harry took to the Quidditch pitch on the weekends, where she could tell Damon always wanted to follow and join, but every time she mentioned it he waved her off.

Nights were when Ariel returned to Severus’ quarters, relishing in the quiet it gave her. They didn’t need words to communicate, though Ariel wasn’t quite sure she wanted to. There were still things she wanted to ask him, answers to questions that haunted her at night, but she couldn’t bear to see that look it his eyes again. Ariel heard him checking in on her at ungodly hours of the night, but it wasn't like she’d been able to get much sleep after what had happened with Quirrell anyway. Her and Harry stayed awake until the early hours of the morning discussing the fact that _Voldemort_ had latched himself onto the back of a man’s _head,_ trying to piece together how they could have not seen it sooner.

Ariel remembered Quirrell before he took his sabbatical her first year, back when he’d been the Muggle Studies teacher. He’d always been a quiet thing, a mere fly on the wall in comparison to the other professors. He’d always been kind to her, offering her a timid smile from time to time. She couldn’t remember any occasion when she’d actually _spoken_ to him, or her father really, for that matter. Quirrell had always been an odd bird, often keeping to himself and head low. Ariel had never thought much of him… _especially_ being capable of trying to _murder_ her. He’d known her since she was seven years old!

It scared her to think that Voldemort could so easily turn those who were loyal to Hogwarts against the students that lived there, but then again, he _had_ tried to murder her and Harry as infants. It seemed that many things required little reason.  

Life stemmed from there, leaving behind the mess Quirrell had conjured up at the start of term and all the uncertainty that had come with it. Ariel almost found herself rather bored now, though she thanked Merlin for it every day.

Severus and Harry had been… _unusual._

Her brother sometimes accompanied her to her father’s quarters during the day or even at night if there was still time before curfew. It had been a test on Ariel’s behalf, to see how her father would react and he’d known it too. Harry had politely greeted him as Severus sat behind his desk, giving Ariel his classic I-know-what-you’re-doing eyes.

Her father had tipped his head in reply, no verbal response given, but no malice in his face.

And then he’d duck from the room with such a strange look on his face that it made the both of them want to laugh, but they never did. It had begun to feel like a life Ariel _should_ have had. The thought made her conscious bounce off the walls of her skull, but things _had_ changed, and seemingly for the better.

Hermione had burst into tears on the third day of Ariel’s cold silence towards her, ready to go and confess it all to her father, who was sitting at the High Table and watching them as their volume rose. Severus hadn’t brought up the subject of who’d send him on fire since Quirrell had kidnapped Harry. They quickly shushed her, and Ariel reassured her that him knowing would only be far worse than him _not_ knowing. She still thought Hermione a know-it-all, but she didn’t want to see her gutting toads for the rest of term.

Probably the most notable difference had been Defense, which Dumbledore had decided to teach himself, since it was far too late to find someone willing to do the job in the middle of term. He was an absolutely brilliant professor, far more visual than Merrythought and Quirrell had been. He took them outside when spring had breathed life into the hard ground, teaching them about wards, using the ones around the school as examples, and how they proved to be extraordinary defenses against dark magic.

It was the first time Ariel had felt truly sad about leaving Hogwarts, looking around the Gryffindor table at her brother, Ron, and even Hermione. Damon nudged her when she didn’t laugh at his joke, but all she could offer was an eye roll in response for fear that the tightness in her throat would ruin the occasion. Ariel didn’t _want_ to leave this time.

Aboard the Hogwarts Express just a short while later, the five of them sat in a compartment together, talking of their plans for the summer excitedly. Harry was going to stay with the Weasley’s again, and by the looks of it, Hermione was going to be around more often than not. Ariel tried to hide her annoyance at _that_ development.

Damon had stayed rather quiet as they discussed this, and Ariel had given his hand a sympathetic squeeze. She hated how she had to go an entire holiday without seeing him. She wondered if Draco had mentioned to his father that Damon and her were friends, the very thing that her father had feared, but every time she had tried to breach the subject, he seemed to clam up.

Hugging him goodbye aboard the train, Ariel followed her brother and Ron as they made their way towards Mr and Mrs Weasley and Ginny, who looked thrilled to see her older brothers. Ariel began to scan the crowd, frowning when she didn’t immediately see her father. He hated to be kept waiting, especially among children who would undoubtedly recognize him – and chatty parents.

“Come along now, dear!” Mrs Weasley gave her a gentle pat on the arm, “I’m sure you’re all tired and ready for a home cooked meal!”

“Oh, yes, I’m sorry.” Ariel quickly turned around to say goodbye to Harry, who she’d promised to Fire-call later tonight, “I was just looking for my father… I should get going myself…”

“He didn’t tell you, dear?” Her words caused Ariel’s head to whip back around.

“Tell me what?” She asked, alarmed, “Did something happen?”

“Oh no, nothing like that!” Mrs Weasley gave a reassuring smile, “Severus had Floo’d us just a few days ago and mentioned that you’d like to spend the holiday with us… with Harry.”

Ariel simply stared back uncomprehendingly for a minute, her mind desperately trying to make sense of her words.

And then she saw him.

He was standing perfectly still in a small clearing of parents walking away with their children. Ariel looked at him, letting all of her confusion show plainly on her face. Severus simply nodded at her. There was something distant in his eyes that she felt inside herself.

He was giving her the choice.

It was an apology — he was letting her go, letting her be with Harry.

Ariel felt her eyes prick, but she quickly wiped at them before she made some kind of a scene. She looked away from him, wondering why instead of happiness, her heart seemed to grow in size and ache terribly. This was what she’d wanted… so why did she feel so sad all of a sudden?

Harry was watching her, like he was in some kind of deep thought, and then his green eyes flitted over to her father.

“Go.” Harry jerked his head in Severus’ direction, giving her a small smile, “I’ll Floo you later.”

“What?” Her head was swimming. She couldn't have heard him correctly.

“He needs you.” Her brother gave her an understanding smile, “We’ll see each other like, every day, now that things are better.”

Ariel stood there, speechless.

“Go!” Harry hugged her around the middle as she stood there, still unable to move and then broke away, nodding.

“Harry…” It hurt to speak.

“I’ll be _fine.”_ He looked up at him with a smirk, “We’ll talk tonight, yeah?”

She hugged him back then, tightly, wondering when he’d gotten taller and when things had suddenly uncomplicated themselves.

“Thank you.” Ariel whispered.

“Second chances, remember?” He gave her a knowing look as they pulled away, and then turned to laugh at Ron, who was desperately trying to grab at Scabbers.  

Ariel grabbed her trunk, pulling it behind her clumsily as she made a beeline for Severus, who was watching her approach with a strange look of his face. He almost appeared confused, which had never been a look he’d worn well, and wary.

“You shouldn’t keep Mrs Weasley waiting.” Severus motioned to the family that was undoubtedly watching her, but Ariel didn’t turn.

She looked up at him and for once, completely disregarding the fact that they were never supposed to be seen in public together, and grabbed his arm.

* * *

She’d been quiet since they’d returned home.

Severus was more than grateful for it, of course. He was still reeling over the hand that had taken his and tugged him away as the Weasley brood had watched, agog, and Potter had smirked knowingly. Severus hadn’t even been able to recover so that he could shoot them all a sneer, but the damn girl had once again defied everything he so firmly held to be true and rendered him speechless.

At first, it had felt like deja vu. Motifs from last summer came floating back to him, of the dejected redhead phantom girl that moped about the house, but after watching her for an hour or so, Severus found that he was wrong. She seemed content, _more than,_ even. Ariel had unpacked her things at Spinner’s End and settled herself on the couch with her Defense textbook, since Dumbledore had completely disregarded the literary aspect of the class for the remainder of the semester and simply taught pro bono.

Why hadn’t she gone with them? Time with the boy was what she’d wanted, hadn’t it? Isn’t that what the problem had been _last_ summer? He’d made the conflict himself with been cold towards Potter, and now, he was trying to make up for it. Trying to get her to see that if her brother was what she wanted, then Severus wouldn’t stand in the way any longer. He couldn’t bear to see her suffer like she had in-between terms.

Severus watched her from the kitchen, wondering how to approach her.

Ariel hadn’t mentioned her mother or Potter senior since he’d heard her talking to the boy about it. Potter junior certainly hadn’t brought it up again, though that might be because the child valued his life over his curiosity. He wondered why, especially after how hurt Ariel had been knowing that he’d kept Lily from here all this time.

Well, not anymore, it seemed. Even from the boy.

“Go and get your shoes.” Severus said suddenly, making her turn around to look up in puzzlement.

“Are we going somewhere?” Ariel cocked her head.

He simply jerked his head in the direction of her room and she scampered off, sliding against the wooden floor in her socks. Severus rolled her eyes at her antics.

“Where’re we going?” She asked the second he closed the front door behind them.

“Out.” He replied loftily, earning himself an annoyed huff.

Ariel crossed her arms and followed at his quick pace, her Muggles clothes giving her a better advantage to keep up than her robes did. Severus hadn’t bothered to change – he never wore anything but his black robes. He hadn’t worn Muggle clothing since the day he’d left Spinner’s End to join the Death Eaters.

She’d always asked for them to walk the neighborhood when she’d been very little. Severus hadn’t been able to bring himself to, knowing the playground was very much still there. He didn’t think he could stand the sight of her on those swings, watching as Ariel suddenly became Lily – as innocent and unknowing at they’d both been from the very start.

Standing there now, with his daughter at his sides and eyes growing by the millisecond, Severus felt an overwhelming sense of nostalgia.

“This is where you met.” Ariel said quietly, like a narration.

It was nothing like it had once been — the paint had dulled and metal begun to rust. Weeds had taken over and choked out the small flowers that had dared to try to spring to life. The bushes that lay just on the edge, the very ones Severus had hidden behind as a boy, were void of leaves. Only gnarled branches that looked like they’d collapse with the next breath of wind.

Ariel went very quiet as she drank it all it. She undoubtedly recognized the setting, her dark eyes lighting up, and then dimming, like a sudden flame. Her slim frame leaned against him and he instinctively wrapped an arm around her, both of them lost in the significance of such a simple place.

He was beginning to regret it, as the girl stepped forward, scanning the area as though her mother would emerge from the dust. It had been such a calm several moments, taking him back to the days when she had been just a child and she hadn’t questioned… _often._ Now Ariel knew his world, knew his reasoning and half of the secrets he had long since buried and struggled to _keep_ hidden away. They hadn’t time to discuss her mother with the talk of her brother and Quirrell, and the afterwards, she hadn’t brought it up _once._

Severus hadn’t been expecting this. She was supposed to have gone with the Weasley’s and spent her time forgetting…

Ariel was making her way to the swings, tugging on the chains as though she was some kind of inspector.

“Why’d you bring me here?” Ariel turned around, watching him closely.

He cleared his throat and approached the swings he’d watched and played with Lily on until the summer before fifth year, “I thought it… cathartic.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him, “I think we’re kind of past that, don’t you think?”

Severus snorted quietly, allowing himself to lean against the post as Ariel seated herself on the swing, holding onto the chains tightly.

“Did Mum live nearby?” She asked quietly.

He nodded, “A few blocks over.”

“Does anyone live there now?”

“I don’t know.” Severus sighed, “It’s been many years since I’ve been there. I don’t roam the neighborhood anymore.”

“What about my grandparents?” There was a hopeful light in her eyes, “Do you think they’re still there? I know mum said in that memory…”

“They both passed away.” He told her, putting a strong arm around her shoulders when her face fell, “They were good people.”

“What about _your_ parents?”

Severus nearly toppled over at the question, and then, with a sharp edge to his voice, said, “I’d never let you within a yard of them.”

Ariel’s eyes welled up with something that looked akin to loss, or perhaps it was pity, and then they were studying the dusty dirt ground with much more interest than they should have been.

“Why’d you ask the Weasleys to take me without asking me first?” She didn’t look at him, and for that, he was glad, “I know what you were trying to do, but… you could have just _asked.”_

_I wanted to avoid a goodbye you’re mine I couldn’t let you go_

“I thought you would have jumped at the opportunity.” Severus gave her a pointed look.

“I wouldn’t leave you!” She looked insulted now.

He rolled his eyes, “You act as though I’m dependent upon you. I’m quite capable of managing by myself.”

Ariel appeared hurt by the comment, and Severus mentally cursed himself.

“Don’t misconstrue my words, child, I… was very… _pleased_ with your decision.” Severus looked away awkwardly, “I had thought you might want to spend some time away and with Pot —   _Harry._ After everything that happened this year… I thought a change might be good for you.”

“I didn’t want that.” She shook her head, “I mean yes, I want to see Harry like, every day, but it’s always been me and you. I wouldn’t change that for anything. I would have thought you realized that when we were sitting in front of the mirror…”

He didn’t say anything, feeling as though Ariel wasn’t done quite yet.

“I saw Mum and Harry in the mirror.” she looked up at him, searching his eyes for something he didn’t know how to identify, “And you. You were there… _happy._ I can tell Harry is better than where he was a year ago… he has friends and the Weasleys adore him. He’ll always have me just a Floo away now. I _couldn’t_ leave you.”

It felt like a punch to the throat. Severus, willing or unwillingly he did not know, felt his legs give out, and he was kneeling in front of her. He simply marveled, and then, the guilt crashed against him, making the three words that were so close to being spoken aloud disappear.

“You deserve to be able to make your own choices concerning me.” Severus said instead, “After those memories, you shouldn’t feel any obligations towards me.”

“What are you talking about?” Ariel looked confused, “Of course I do! You’re my _dad.”_

“My actions —”

“None of you were perfect.” She interrupted, “You made mistakes, but I’m not going to hold them against you. Just like I’m not with James or Mum…”

“Your _mother?”_ Severus frowned, “She did nothing wrong, Ariel.”

“She _abandoned_ you.” Her teeth snapped together.

“Not this again.” He rubbed his forehead wearily.  

“You don’t give up on those you love.” Ariel said fiercely, “Mum didn’t see that, but I do. Harry _has_ people who love him…”

_And you don’t,_ Severus heard the unfinished sentence echo in his head.

He swallowed and tilted her chin up with the tips of his fingers, “Ariel, your mother had every reason to do what she did that day.”

“No, she didn’t!” She argued, “If Damon was getting into Dark Arts and all that stuff, I’d kick his arse, but I wouldn’t just _give_ _up!”_

He wondered if it was normal for a child to defend someone so vehemently after they’d confessed to a sin that could never really be taken back. Probably not.

“She was already kicking my arse.” Severus growled, “I was going to join the Death Eaters with or without her approval, child. Your mother saw that… she knew what would happen.”

At the word _Death Eater,_ Ariel clamped up. All the determination in her face faded, the red in her cheeks paling.

“I don’t want to talk about that.” She mumbled.

“Ariel…”

“If she was really so sure, then how come _I_ happened?” He could hear the bitterness in her voice, “You were _already_ a Death Eater by then, weren’t you?”

She’d asked the question he’d been asking himself since that very night.

“I can’t speak for Lily.” Severus cleared his throat, “But I can tell you that what happened between us has absolutely _nothing_ to do with you. I didn’t give you those memories so that you could obsess over them. They were —”

“— to explain your reasoning for being the way you were to Harry, I know.” Ariel finished quietly, “I’ve forgiven you for that, you know. I see… _why._ That’s why I came home with you.”

_I saw the boy,_ that little voice whispered, barely a breath, but that thought had terrified him beyond all else and he shoved it down deep once more. Instead, Severus raised a hand to her face, brushing back the hair from her forehead and forced her eyes to meet his.

Ariel sprang up and clung to him then, though it was not out of sorrow or fear this time, like it had for the past several months. It was…

“Eyes up, my girl.” Severus tapped her shoulder and she sniffled. “Come,” he lifted her to her feet as she slipped her hand into his once more, “your brother will most likely be going through withdrawal after not seeing you for the past several hours.”

Ariel rolled her eyes at him, but her grip tightened and the world before him felt better, even if the Dark Lord was still clearly a very present threat. He was hers, and she was his. Not even he could take that now.

The Floo was already alerting him to someone trying to come through when they walked through the door. She eagerly headed over, bending down and accepting the Fire-call.

“Harry!” Ariel called brightly as the boy’s head coughed up what was undoubtedly ash from the fireplace.

“This is weird.” Potter half choked, half laughed, “I feel oddly vulnerable on the other end. I’m not sure I like this.”

She laughed again and they dove into a conversation about a mishap that seemed to have occurred with Potter’s bird. Severus took this opportunity to slip from the room unnoticed and into the privacy of his study.

He closed the door behind him, because the boy was beginning to unnerve him in a way that he didn’t think was possible.

* * *

Summertime spread across the Burrow like a thick blanket, lining the horizon with gold, and painting it blue during the long days.

It wasn’t until Harry was back at the Burrow that he realized just how much he’d missed it. He’d forgotten how much there was to do here – how long the land stretched out, how open everything was, the warmth, the smells constantly wafting from the kitchen. Harry had even forgotten how _loud_ it was once everyone was awake. He didn’t know how Ron slept as long as he did somedays, with all the racket, but he loved it as much as he loved the Weasleys. It certainly was a welcome change, having Ron as a roommate again instead of Malfoy. Some mornings, Harry still woke up tense, ready to throw a pillow in front of his face to drown out his droning.

Ron and him had spent the first half of the holiday keeping track of the Chudley Cannon’s progress – they’d been doing unusually well, as Fred had put it. Ron had said they rerouted their strategy, and he’d spent nearly four hours analyzing every move of after their latest game. Harry had liked looking over strategies, making note of what the Seeker did, though it was hard to keep track. Most of the notes were on the other players, since all Seekers did was chase the Snitch all game.

Ariel spent the day a couple of times a week, even if all they were doing was chores. She said she didn’t mind helping, and Ron and the twins certainly never passed up on the help. Mrs Weasley would try and corral her into the kitchen, asking if Ariel was eating, if she needed to have a chat. Ariel always politely declined, but she’d later told Harry, while they were cleaning out Mr Weasley’s shed, that she got the impression that Mrs Weasley thought she was starved for affection or something. Harry knew what she meant – he loved Mrs Weasley, but sometimes, he felt like he was being smothered. She doted on him more than her own kids, sometimes, and Harry got the impression she wasn’t the biggest fan of Snape.

Most days, however, Harry, Ron, and the twins played scrimmage Quidditch matches in the backyard, with Ariel as scorekeeper. They’d tried to get Ariel to play, since Ginny could fly too, but she’d refused to even touch a broom.

Ariel had found the de-gnoming-garden-process to be interesting, which is what they were discussing one afternoon the day after Harry’s twelfth birthday. Mrs Weasley had baked him a three-layer chocolate cake and a roast – he’d felt so full that night that when Harry had gone to bed, he thought he might be sick.

“How are there so _many?”_ Ariel was asking as they dug into the bowl of fruit Mrs Weasley had set out for them. Harry, Ariel, Ron, the twins, Percy, and Ginny were all sitting around the table, their pants covered in dirt. Ginny was currently trying to dig some out from under her fingernails.

“We have a big garden.” Ron shrugged. “Bigger garden, more room for gnomes. They’re pretty common.”

“They’re like birds nesting in gutters.” Harry said, recalling how Uncle Vernon had to go up on a ladder at the start of every spring to knock out the nests. He’d broken the ladder when Harry was nine, and after that, it had become _his_ job.

“Well, we don’t have a garden.” Ariel shrugged. “I have a fern in my room, but I think it’d be hard for a gnome to hide in one of those.”

“We’ve wanted to keep one or two,” Ron said, biting into an apple. “but Mum said no.”

“I don’t see why not.” Ginny huffed. “They could keep the ghoul company – the poor thing’s all alone up there.”

“Ghouls _eat_ gnomes, Gin.” said Fred, obviously trying to bite back a laugh. Ginny swatted at him.

Ariel looked to Ron. “You have a ghoul in your attic?”

“He’s completely harmless.” He shrugged. “We keep him just in case.”

“In case of _what,_ exactly?” Harry asked. “You never did explain him. What’re you waiting for – a ghoul shortage?”

Ariel snickered behind her hands.

Ron shot her a dirty look. “What? Don’t tell me Snape’s never had anything crawling around his pipes.”

“Uh, _ew.”_ George said.

“I mean… I don’t think we have any ghouls… I had an Oculus in my closet once!” Ariel’s face brightened as she recalled. “It woke me up one night – dad got rid of it when he heard me yell.”

Fred shuddered. “Well, if we had one of those, we definitely wouldn’t keep it.”

Ariel quirked an eyebrow. “But you’d keep a _ghoul?”_

“The ghouls not hurting anyone!” Ron protested.

“What’s an Oculus?” asked Harry.

“Nasty lil blighters.” George said. “It’s a shapeshifter – it’s more harmful to Muggles, really. It doesn’t affect wizards much.”

“But what does it _do?”_

“Seduces the husband, usually.” Fred wriggled his fingers menacingly. “Then it manipulates him into murdering the rest of the family.”

Ariel looked horrified. “Well, now I know why he wouldn’t tell me what it would have done if he hadn’t gotten rid of it.”

“I reckon it left of it’s own will.” George deepened his voice. “It probably didn’t want to deal with _insufferable halfwits.”_

“What does insufferable mean?” Harry heard Ginny whisper to Ariel.

“It means you’re not suffering enough.” His sister murmured back.

_“Oh.”_

“It doesn’t mean that.” Percy finally interrupted in a haughty-sort-of voice. “It means _intolerable.”_

“Right you are, Perce.” said Fred, nudging Ginny. “Did you know Percy is synonymous with _insufferable,_ Gin?”

The table erupted into laughter — Percy shot Fred a filthy look, slammed his banana peel down, and stormed from the room. That was a regular occurrence, one that happened like clockwork.

“You know, I’ve never seen a ghoul before.” Ariel announced. “I think you all owe me an introduction.”

“Follow after Percy, then.” Ron jerked his head in the direction of the stairs. “Maybe he’s going to complain to it about us.”

“I’ll take her,” Harry volunteered, seeing an opportunity to get away from everyone for a few minutes. Merlin knew he loved the Weasleys, but he couldn’t help but feel like he hadn’t had any time with _just_ his sister since summer had begun…

Well, and he had something to show her, too.

“You sure, Harry?” Fred said, throwing Percy’s banana peel at Ron. “You know the way?”

“Of course.”

“Happy trails.” George called as Harry and Ariel stood. “Tell the ghoul to give us a ring sometime, yeah?”

“We’re not going to see the ghoul, are we?” Ariel whispered once they were at the top of the stairs.

“Nope.” Harry said, opening the door to Ron’s room. “He’s not very vocal, either way. I doubt you’d get far with introductions.”

“Oh, har, har.” Ariel said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. Harry grinned over his shoulder at her.

Dropping to his knees, he fished under the bed, his hands fumbling for what he was looking for. Harry accidentally got a handful of Scabbers – Ariel jumped as he bolted from the room.

“Uh, what’re you doing?” she finally asked. “The ghoul isn’t under _there,_ is he?”

“Attic.” Harry called, his voice muffled. “I’m trying to find your birthday present.”

There was a pause as Harry inhaled a mouthful of dust. As he sputtered, his hands finally came into contact with what he was digging for, Ariel dropped down to his level.

_“Birthday present?”_ she echoed. “Harry, we _agreed_ no gifts! I didn’t have any money left after Christmas –”

“Stop it.” Harry groaned as he emerged from under the bed – Ron really did have to clean. There was a half-eaten container of rhubarb pie under there. “You got _me_ a Christmas gift –”

_“Harry.”_

He set the gift down in front of her with far less grace then he’d planned, the bars rattling against the wooden floor. They both winced.

“That’s… a cage.” Ariel said.

“Yes,” Harry agreed, and then he whistled.

He came quicker then he usually did – but the result was better then Harry had anticipated. Ariel’s eyes tripled as she held out her arm, and the barn owl Harry had picked out for her landed atop it, hooting cheerfully. Harry had him for two weeks now. He’d spotted it right after Mrs Weasley had taken him to Diagon Alley for new robes – he’d grown out of his first year ones already, and needed _something_ to wear around the Burrow.

Her jaw opened and closed a couple of times before Ariel spoke. “You… an _owl?”_

“Well, you got me Hedwig.” Harry offered his hand, smiling as the owl nuzzled it.

He’d taken her off guard. “How… how did you –”

“There were only like, three people that knew I was with the Weasleys.” He rolled his eyes. “And I had _kind of_ told you I’d wanted an owl a couple of days before my birthday. It was pretty easy to piece it together.”

“He’s beautiful…” Ariel shook her head. “But Dad would never let me…”

“I remembered you saying that too.” Harry smirked. “I figured I’ll keep her here – he can keep Hedwig company. I’ll bring her to Hogwarts, and Snape’ll never know if he’s up in the Owlry, right? Besides, you’ll be able to him every time you come here.”

“A secret owl.” She ran her hand through it’s feathers, smiling. “Well, it’s much better then a secret Stone. Dad will only lose a couple of hairs when he figures it out, eventually.”

“I’m sure Hedwig will appreciate the company.”

“What am I going to call you?” Ariel mused, tickling the underside of his chin.

“Ginny suggested Pigwidgeon.”

“Oh gods, no. What’ve you been calling him?”

“Well, Ron calls him Chirpy…”

“You’re all going to give the poor thing an identity crisis.”

Just as Harry went to suggest they look through _A History of Magic,_ since that’s where he’d gotten Hedwig’s name from, the ladder to the attic suddenly came slamming down outside their door. Harry and Ariel looked at each other as low, angry mumblings reached their ears as someone slowly descended from the attic.

“… see you tonight, possibly.” Percy’s voice was saying.

Ariel’s hand flew over her mouth, obviously trying to stifle her giggles. Harry grinned, creeping up to the doorway just in time to catch Percy waving up at the opening in the ceiling.

“Percy?” it took all of Harry’s self control not to lose his composure. “What’re you doing?”

“Nothing.” His eyes narrowed. “What’re _you_ doing?”

“Showing Ariel her birthday present.” He crossed his arms. “How’s the ghoul?”

Percy froze, went redder then a tomato. “Much better company than _you_ lot, that’s for sure!” he gave them both a horrible look, and stormed out of view. The ladder snapped back in place with a loud _CRACK!_

“Was he…” he could see Ariel smiling behind her hand.

“Talking to the ghoul?” Harry finished. “I think so.”

By the time Ron found them, their sides were sore from laughing for so long.

* * *

The morning of her thirteenth birthday, Ariel awoke to the smell of bacon.

It was the kind of scent that was so strong that it _could_ wake up you – like peppers and onions or something else really potent. This was a rare occurrence, mostly because her father usually made her eat oatmeal and fruit or something else for breakfast. Dinners were the only time he really cooked – it was a lot of fish or stews. Severus didn’t eat red meat, for some reason.

Ariel’s stomach gave an appreciative growl as she ripped off the covers, and threw on an old Muggle dress. She liked this one particularly because it had pockets. Normally, she avoided dresses, but most of Muggles clothes didn’t fit anymore. She kept forgetting to ask Severus if they should get new ones, or not bother, since she rarely went out into the Muggle world anyway.

“Good morning.” Ariel said pleasantly, biting the inside of her cheek as she walked into the kitchen.

Severus looked over his shoulder at her, the corners of his lips twisting upwards. “And here I thought I’d have to _drag_ you out of bed.”

“I considered it.” She yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. “I thought I’d make your life easier.”

“You’re too kind.” He unfolded the newspaper in front of him, skimming over the first page before flipping it open.

“Why do you have the Prophet out?”

Severus scowled. “They write an article on you and your brother every year on your birthdays. They usually just publish it on the 31st, but some years, they’ll be one out on the second as well.”

Ariel blinked. “Really? What do they say?”

“Nothing important.” He said dismissively.

“Anything about,” She leaned towards him as she sat down, “my _birthday?”_

Her father lowered the paper, giving her a blank stare. Ariel didn’t buy it for a second. After a long moment, he smirked coyly, and set the Prophet down.

“You’re thirteen.” Severus cleared his throat, like that fact annoyed him. “I won’t pretend like this isn’t… a transition.”

Ariel tried to hide her smirk – he was clearly very uncomfortable.

“You’re getting older, and I won't ignore that, even though I’d like to, after your little _stunt_ back in January.” Her father said sharply. “However, I’d like to think that I can… trust you with certain responsibilities, as well as rights of passage. _This,”_ he slid a piece of parchment towards her. “is one of them.”

Ariel gave him a confused look, but when she turned it over…

It was the _HOGSMEADE PERMISSION SLIP —_

Ariel had been _hounding_ him to sign it sign it had arrived. Her father hadn’t said yes or no, exactly – he’d simply locked it in a drawer in his study and told her they’d discuss it when the time came. Ariel had taken that as Severus-Speech for “you’re going over my cooling corpse,” and had been thinking of points to argue since.

“I’m going to make something abundantly clear to you, young lady.” Severus held up a finger as Ariel beamed. “You are to be on your _best_ behavior while on these trips. If I hear you step a _toe_ out of line, this privilege will be revoked.”

“I promise!” She grinned, watching every stroke of his quill as he signed it.

“Put this somewhere safe in your room after breakfast.” Her father said, the expression on his face guarded, like he’d just signed away the keys to the kingdom.

“Well, it’s a swell present.” Ariel still couldn’t believe he’d signed it. She stared at the paper, waiting for his signature to disappear, but it didn’t.

Severus snorted. “You think _this_ is your present?”

Ariel’s head shot up like a bullet. “Wait – _what?”_

Something hit the tabletop, and her father’s eyes were trained on her. His face was smug, but his eyes were analyzing her closely. When Ariel looked down, there was… _something_ on the kitchen table. It was no bigger than her hand, nor wider. It wasn’t wrapped or anything – it was in a simple, cream colored box, with an emblem on the top – an oval with a ribbon in the middle.

She quirked an eyebrow. “Is that the deed to the house? I think I need to be at _least_ fourteen for that.”

Her father rolled his eyes. “If I was giving you the deed to this… _scrapheap,_ I certainly wouldn’t take the time to put it in a box.”

“Well, now I know what it _isn’t.”_ Ariel said sarcastically, sighing. “Thanks for ruining the surprise.”

“I’d be happy to eliminate any other possibilities – I’d rather you not get your hopes _too_ high.”

“It’s not your will, is it?” She leaned on her elbow. “No – that seems more suited for Christmas. _There’s_ an idea for future reference.”

“Dutifully noted.” Severus slid the box towards her. “Now, if you’d cease the dramatics, open it before there’s a _real_ need for my will to be read.”

Ariel stared at it, afraid to touch it. “You don’t _buy_ birthday gifts.”

His eyebrows knitted together. “I know the books I’ve bought you every year aren’t… as _entertaining_ as what most children expect, but you’re old enough that I thought maybe something else –”

She had a brief mental image of Severus in a toy store, and felt a wave of guilt, while also trying to fight back a fit of giggles.

“No, I get it.” Ariel said quickly. “I love the books. This just looks like… something… _thoughtful,_ though.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Are you saying I’m incapable of thought, or that I don't know my own daughter well enough to buy her a gift that would meet her tastes?”

_Tastes?_ What did _that_ mean? Tastes as in… _not_ books? The box was far too small to be one… maybe clothes? No, that was ridiculous — her father couldn't give a damn about stuff like that. The only color he saw when it came to robes was _black,_ anyway.

Her eyes narrowed. “It’s not Dark Lord Repellent, is it?”

Severus snorted. “If there was such a thing, you’d be _bathing_ in it.”

“Good to know,” Ariel muttered, reaching for the gift. “Where’d you go for this?” she gave the box a little shake.

Her father looked exasperated. “Shangri-La.”

“That’s not a real place.” Ariel pointed out. “And I highly doubt you went through so much trouble to get your will. Why in Merlin’s name would it be in Shangri-La?”

“Perhaps I’m trying to keep it out of the hands of meddlesome Gryffindors.”

“I don’t know any of those.” She quipped. “Maybe your old age is scrambling your head.”

Severus glared – it didn’t reach his eyes. They were soft, like a summer night’s breeze.

“Maybe it _is_ the deed to the house.” Ariel said thoughtfully.

He rubbed a hand over his face. “Open the bloody thing already, Ariel.”

“I’d paint the walls cream, I think. Like the box.”

_“Ariel.”_ Her father growled.

“Okay, okay.” Ariel said, flashing him a smile. “It had better be the house – or at the very least, a trust fund or something.”

Severus was massaging his head forcefully. “Were you raised by goblins?”

“No – just you.”

He swatted at her with the newspaper, and she laughed. He didn’t look as amused, but his eyes were shining, like stars on a clear night. Ariel slowly lifted the lid off the box, taking care to go slowly and carefully. She really had no idea what it could be – Severus had only ever gotten her books, really. One year he’d gotten Ariel a small potions set, another year a cat, but she’d been allergic. The cat had been replaced by a fish, but then she’d accidentally made the bowl explode.

Whatever it was, it was wrapped in tissue paper, the really nice kind she’d only seen used when her father got new robes. Ariel looked back up at him, questioning him with her eyes, but his own were on her hands. She swallowed, unwrapping the paper, as something cold and hard fell into her palm.

At first, Ariel thought it was a coin, but it was attached to a chain. She turned it over in her hands, finding that it was a _necklace._

It was bronze, the chain the same color, though it was thin and shimmered in the sunlight. On the end was a medallion, no bigger than a knut. There were words written out in calligraphy – _aut viam inveniam aut faciam._

“It means, _I will either find a way, or make one_.” Severus said. “It’s… an old Latin phrase. I thought it… very fitting for your House.”

Ariel simply stared at it, not knowing what to say. Her dad didn't buy her _jewelry._ Had he gone _into a store_ to buy this? Oh gods, Ariel could only imagine his reaction to _that._ She didn't even have her ears pierced, like all the other girls in her year — girly stuff had never been… a _thing…_

“Turn it over.” He whispered.

Ariel did as he said, finding that there was more lettering on the back. It read, _pedes in terra ad sidera visus._

“That,” said Severus softly. “is an old Slytherin saying. It means _feet on the ground, eyes on the sky._ I was… surprised, to find something with both proverbs on it.”

She didn't trust herself to speak — she would start crying, and she really didn't want to do that. Severus’ finger touched her cheek, obviously trying to elicited some kind of response. Her father looked… nervous — he didn't wear it well. His eyes were flirting between the gift and her face, like he was trying to decide whether he wanted to watch her or throw the necklace out the window.

“It’s like you and mum, kind of.” Ariel decided on, not daring to speak above a whisper. “I love it… thank you.”

Severus cleared his throat, like he had something caught in it. “Or, for you and I. After this year I… need you to know that you can come to me – for anything. Let this serve as a reminder that I’m always near.”

_And that I love you,_ she wanted him to say, but he didn't. Severus had never — but neither had she. It was like wishing something you already had, but couldn't touch.

“I will find a way or make one.” Ariel mused. “Well, all I hear is, _I will find your will, or —”_

She dodged the newspaper this time, laughing as Severus scowled.

“I had a feeling you’d grow into a power hungry fiend.” He fluffed the newspaper, pretending to read it. Ariel could tell he wasn't because his eyes weren't moving.

“That's _your_ fault, Head of Slytherin.”

“What’s next? Do you plan on robbing Gringotts?”

Ariel shrugged. “Maybe one day. That's too much work, in my opinion.”

Her father rolled his eyes. “Ah, the brawn of Gryffindor.”

“What can I say?” She took a bite of the bacon still in the frying pan. “I’m a snake in lion’s clothing.”

“You're a menace, is what you are.”

Ariel tried to snatch the newspaper out of his hands. “Does the article say that?”

“Modesty would benefit you greatly.” Severus said dryly, glaring at her. “And as a matter of fact, it does.”

“Yeah?” She challenged. “What else?”

“It says your head can be seen from space.”

“Hm.” Ariel gave the newspaper a calculating look. “I must’ve inherited your head, then.”

She was able to successfully dodge his attack a second time, ducking underneath the table. Ariel laughed, sliding off her chair to check on the eggs.

“Careful, girl.” Severus warned, his lips twitching.

Ariel leaned over the frying pan — the bacon was still sizzling away. The eggs, however, were not so lucky.

“Er, Dad, I like my bacon a little bit on the crispy side, but the eggs…”

“What?” Severus jumped up, throwing down the Prophet.

“I think they’re… uh… well —”

_“Shit.”_ He snarled, quickly taking the pan off the burner.                         

“It was a valiant effort.” Ariel patted his shoulder.

“I thought they'd come out better if I cooked them the Muggle way.” Her father sighed. The eggs were charred around the edges, the rest stuck to the pan.

“It’s okay.” Ariel leaned her head against his arm. “I’ll starve.”

“As tempting as a house to myself sounds,” Severus reached for the egg carton. “I don't wish to have my own article in the Prophet anytime soon.”

“You’re right.” She gave a short nod. “People will think you purposefully got rid of me because they knew I was after the deed to the house. Too risky.”

“I’d like to see _you_ do better, impertinent brat.” Her father scowled.

“No, thanks.” Ariel turned, reaching for the necklace. She held it up, looking it over. It was simple enough, but pretty, it an old, antique sort of way. She clasped the chain around her neck, rubbing it between her fingers.

“Thank you,” Ariel said softly, leaning back against her father. “really.”

Severus kissed her temple, “I’ll get back at you for your cheek tomorrow. Today, however, happy birthday.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I wanted to give an idea of what Normal Things are like – here’s a glimpse, before we open the Chamber.
> 
> Please review! Xx


	35. Reverie

**Chamber of Secrets**

_"Is evil something you are? Or is it something you do?"_

— Bret Easton Ellis

* * *

“Are you coming?” Ariel sighed, tapping her foot impatiently as Ron and Harry pressed their noses against the glass of Diagon Alley’s Quidditch store, “Mrs Weasley wanted us to get to Flourish and Blotts before it gets too hectic. And I have to meet my father soon.”

 _“Look_ at it!” Ron moaned over the newest display of the Nimbus-whatever-it-was.

“You _have_ a brand new Nimbus.” She growled, grabbing her brother’s arm and tugging him along, eliciting a long cry from him as he strained against her and back towards the window, _“Harry,_ come _on!”_

“Alright, alright.” Harry sighed in defeat, slugging onward as Ron gave a whimper of longing.

“If I’m not at the Leaky Cauldron in half an hour, Dad will have my head.” Ariel explained as both looked up at her, moping.

It had been the most enjoyable summer by far. The days were quiet and laid back, with nothing to worry about for the time being, except being on time when Harry invited her over. Half of the summer had been spent at the Weasley’s, but Ariel always returned that night to her father, who, for the lack of a better term, seemed to hover over the fireplace in wait.

The Weasley’s house always seemed to be some kind of misadventure. Hermione hadn’t shown up until the beginning of August, to Ariel’s relief, for the second she got there she started asking Ariel about second year curriculum. She tried to be polite for Harry’s sake, though Ron usually stepped in and said something sarcastic to curb the girl’s non-stop questions. Ariel usually escaped by heading up to Fred and George’s room, where they were always concocting something innovative. She’d suggested to them on more than one occasion that they should start selling their products, which they’d responded to with enthusiasm. Ariel had gone for frequently towards the end to see the owl Harry had gotten her for her birthday – she’d decided to name it Tidings, after a nearly two-week long deliberation.

Today was being spent buying their supplies for school, which was starting in a week. Her father had escorted her to Diagon Alley under Polyjuice, handing her over to the Weasleys while he went to an apothecary to stock up on potion’s ingredients.

“Mum’s gone to the bookstore by now.” said Ron as they strolled along, “We should head there.”

Ariel and Harry nodded in agreement. She shifted her satchel, which was charmed to hold more than met the eye. Her father had given her money before they’d left, as well as a specific list of supplies that she was to strictly adhere to. Her books were the last on the list, Defense being the most expensive this year.

“Who’s this bloke Lockhart?” Harry asked, eyeing his own list distastefully, “He wrote everything!”

Ron shrugged, holding the door open for them as they entered Flourish and Blotts, “Mum’s mentioned him — he’s apparently a Dark creature hunter or something.”

It was absolute pandemonium. If her father had been there, he’d have sent several heads rolling by now. Kids were crying and pulling on their mother’s robes impatiently, women were talking loudly, gossiping about the Lockhart guy Ariel had heard Fred and George teasing Mrs Weasley about earlier.

“Brilliant.” She groaned, slouching against the window at the back of the store, “I’m definitely going to be late.”

“It’s not your fault every witch over the age of forty fancies him.” Ron rolled his eyes, “Look, there’s Mum and Ginny!”

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, Ariel caught a familiar flash of raven hair.

 _“Damon?”_ she murmured to herself. She’d never seen him outside of school before – she felt a rush of excitement that quickly washed away her boredom.

Ariel pushed through the crowd without a second thought as Harry asked where she was going. She tapped Damon on the shoulder, making him jump and whirl around in surprise. She grinned at him, waiting his usual smirk and greeting, but it did not come. Instead, Damon’s blue eyes narrowed, flitting about the crowd behind her. He looked nervous.

“Hi.” Ariel crossed her arms, allowing the corners of her mouth to turn upwards slightly, “What’s gotten into you? Star struck by Lockhart like everyone else in here?”

“You should go.” Damon said in a low voice, leaning in towards her.

“Nice to see you too.”

“My _uncle_ is in here.”

“Lucius?” She frowned, “So?”

 _“So,_ you need to walk away before he sees us talking!” He hissed.

“What’s he going to do?” Ariel rolled her eyes, “Besides, it’s too crowded in here for him to pick us out…”

Just as Damon opened his mouth to say something, a growing irritation building in his eyes, they widened and his mouth snapped shut. He was looking past Ariel with such uneasiness that it made her stomach churn before she even turned.

The man was tall, as tall as her father was, though his presence was much different. Severus carried himself in a way that was strong and authoritative. _This_ man was strong, Ariel could tell, but there was something much more sinister. She could sense it underneath his pale, grey eyes as swept over her in a way that made her shiver. He had long blonde hair that was tied back in a black ribbon and robes that Ariel judged to be as much as Harry’s Nimbus.

“Well well.” Lucius Malfoy purred, looking down at her with a gleam in his eyes, “Ariel Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived, fraternizing with _my_ nephew.”

She willed herself to look unfazed by him despite the fact that a ball of something hard and hot had landed in her stomach.

“Just saying hello.” Ariel replied in a reserved voice, quickly looking around for an escape, “I’ll… just be on my way now.”

“Oh, but why so soon?” Lucius smirked, “Surely the chosen one isn’t busy so close to term beginning?”

Ariel glared back coolly, struggling to keep herself from showing any emotion. How did Severus do it so well? She glanced back at her friend for help, but Damon seemed to be having a staring contest with the floor.

“I don’t see what all the fuss is about.” Lucius murmured on, lifting his cane to lift back a strand of her scarlet hair from her face, making her flinch, “Nothing good ever came from a ginger, but judging by the family I saw you enter with, I believe you may know that already.”

Her temper ignited beyond her control, and before her mind could catch up, it was too late.

“Well, at least I’m _supposed_ to look like a girl.” Ariel shot back, unable to help herself.

Damon choked. The ball in her stomach squeezed. Her inner Severus screeched.

The nostrils on Lucius’ thin nose flared and his grey eyes became something menacing she had never seen before. Sure, Voldemort had been downright petrifying, but the look in his eyes told her that she would come to regret it.

“Ariel?” Her brother’s voice called over the din and Ariel’s possible impending execution, “Ariel, Ron says it’s almost time – we should get our money out!”

Harry pushed through the crowd hiding them, skidding to a halt as the tension, which was nearly palpable, hit him as he stood at Ariel’s side.

“Ah, and now the set is complete.” Lucius drawled, the satin in his voice hiding something frightening underneath.

Harry shot Lucius a confused look, _clearly_ not realizing who this was, before his eyes found Damon, giving him a friendly grin, a greeting undoubtedly on his lips that never made it out. Mr Weasley’s hands were suddenly on both their shoulders, and the bright eyed, kind faced man was suddenly looking a lot like her father when he on his way to smashing something. Ariel couldn’t compare him to Severus in a full on rage, because in her opinion, Mr Weasley’s anger paled to her father’s. 

 _“Lucius.”_ Mr Weasley said, like the name was something unpleasant he’d found on the bottom of his shoe.

 _“Arthur.”_ He replied coldly, his grey eyes never leaving Ariel’s, “I thought I smelled poverty when I entered. I should have known your brood was present straight away. I suppose that’s where the girl learned her manners. But no matter,” Lucius leaned in close, so that his lips were practically touching her ear, “she’ll learn a thing or two about respecting her superiors in time.”

It was clearly a threat, one that made all the defiance in her eyes flee as Lucius pulled away. And then Harry was pulling her back as Ariel clutch the satchel slung across her shoulder tightly. Someone was pulling them away, making them both yelp in surprise as they were forcefully dragged from the crowd that was beginning to surround Mr Weasley and Lucius and out onto the street.

It was her father – still under the Polyjuice. She was wrong when she’d thought anyone except her father’s face could ever look so frightening when he was angry.  The stranger’s face was twisting in something that made the chocolate brown eyes swirl and his facial muscles spasm. Had he heard heard her comment to Lucius?

Probably, judging by the look on his not-face.

Shit.

“Hi, Dad.” Ariel managed to crack a smile that made her face hurt. “How was the apothecary?”

“What the hell were you doing talking to Lucius Malfoy?” Her father spat, trembling with anger.

“That was _Draco’s dad?”_ Harry looked horrified, “What the hell did you _say_ to him? He looked...”

He stopped talking when they heard Severus’ knuckles crack as they balled at his side.

Ariel mumbled something unintelligible under her breath, hoping a dragon would suddenly attack Diagon Alley and force them to flee and forget any of this had happened.

Her father cocked an eyebrow at her, _“Louder,_ if you’d please.”

“He made fun of my hair.” Ariel felt her cheeks redden, “So I… _might’ve_ pointed out… that his… wasn’t… much… better.”

Harry snorted and covered his mouth. Severus looked like he’d just swallowed broken glass.

Severus looked down at Harry like he wanted to grab him too, but pointed in the direction of the Weasleys, who were now leaving the store for some reason, and snarled, “Go and stay with them! If I hear _anything_ about you approaching _any_ of the Malfoys like your sister, I will have you scrubbing cauldrons for a month!”

They exchanged a wide-eyed look before Harry shuffled away and her father grabbed Ariel’s arm, Apparating them home before she could even register that they’d transported.

“Bedroom, _now!”_ Severus ordered, giving her a terrible look that made her bolt towards her possibly only safe place at the moment and shut the door.

Ariel hadn’t been expecting _that_ as she leaned against the wall, trying to steady her breathing. When her father calmed down, he was going to kill her. She quickly tried to formulate a counterattack – Lucius made her _angry_ , hence the completely _boneheaded_ comment about his hair… but the comment stung a little less as she thought about the look on Damon’s face. He’d never, _ever_ looked anything less than confident, even around _Severus,_ and he was downright _scary_ when he was in a rage.

Damon never talked about Lucius, or Draco for that matter. It was well known to her that they didn’t get along, but every time she’d tried to breach the subject, he’d shut it down.

If Lucius was anything like that with him… well, she suddenly knew why.

Ariel dumped her satchel onto her bed, emptying it of it’s contents in an attempt to distract herself. She could hear her father pacing the hallway, something loud falling off the wall and making her jump. He was muttering a string of something that made her ears blister at various volumes. Mad-Severus was not pleasant to deal with, even if Ariel was apologetic. Kind of.

They hadn’t gotten her Defense textbooks, she realized with a sigh. Severus had grabbed her and Harry before they’d had a chance. Probably for the best, really. Ariel had a feeling that getting her books while trying to get past a swarm of women who fancied this Lockhart bloke might not have been a pleasant experience.

Her quills and ink and rolls of parchment came tumbling out, something heavier hitting the sheets on her bed and making her stall.

A black notebook lay in the middle of her purchases.

“I didn’t buy you…” Ariel muttered to herself, picking it up and tracing over the worn bindings. She opened it, flipping through it and found the name _T.M. Riddle._

She shrugged, quickly scribbling her name on the inside. Another notebook wouldn’t hurt her, even if she had no bloody clue how it ended up in her bag. Besides, she had more important things to worry about.

There was another loud bang from her father, making Ariel wince as she turned back to the bed, finding the mystery notebook still open. She went to close it, when something rather odd caught her eye.

Her name was gone from the page she’d written it on.

Ariel blinked, looking back down at it and wondering if she’d someone accidently bought invisible ink. She inspected the ink pot, and then, lifted her quill a second time to write her name on the first page of the notebook.

The words disappeared and Ariel founded herself wondering if she’d been ripped off. She could only imagine her father’s reaction if, in addition to still having to buy textbooks, someone had dared sell her bad ink.

But then, something else happened that made Lucius and Severus the very last thing on her mind.

 _Hello, Ariel Potter,_ the words materialized on the page, to Ariel’s utter amazement, _my name is Tom Riddle._

* * *

“I cannot _believe_ you, Arthur!” Mrs Weasley was fuming as Harry and the Weasleys stepped back into the Burrow, _“Lucius Malfoy_ of all people… brawling in the middle of a _store!_ What Gilderoy Lockhart must have thought!”

“Oh trust me, he was pleased.” Fred rolled his eyes as Ginny hopped onto his back, “He was asking that bloke from the Prophet if he could work the fight in for publicity!”

“A fine example you’re setting for our children, then!” She wagged her finger at her husband, “At least poor Harry and Ariel didn’t have to see it – imagine what Professor Snape must be thinking!”

Oh, Harry wished he had, more than anything. As soon as Snape had Apparated away with his sister in hand, the Malfoys had exited right behind the Weasleys. There was an imprint in Lucius’ face that appeared to have come from a book of some kind, and a sneer on his face. Draco was wearing a similar look, but Damon looked downright horrified, though it was clear he was quickly trying to pull himself together.

“Like you care about what that greasy git thinks.” George muttered, setting down his supplies as Ginny leaped from Fred’s back to his, “He’d find a reason to chew anyone out.”

“Malfoy deserved it anyway.” Mr Weasley was muttering, seating himself at the kitchen table.

“Well, at least we know where Draco gets it from.” Harry sighed, feeling a pang of sympathy as Mr Weasley held his hand up to his bleeding lip, “I wonder how Damon deals with it. He’s nothing like them. Hell, he’s the exact opposite.”

“I don’t know about them.” Mrs Weasley sighed, ruminating. “The Malfoys have always been awful people, flaunting their wealth as though they're Merlin’s gift to the world. What an example they’re setting for those boys… but then again, they’ll want for nothing.”

Ron snorted, “Draco is just fine with being a prat, Mum. I wouldn’t worry.”

“He doesn’t know any better.” She scolded, “That boy has grown up with nothing but the Pureblood nonsense Lucius has instilled in his head.”

“Then how do you explain Damon?” Harry asked, immediately taking Ron’s side on the matter.

“Bad parenting?” Fred guessed, snorting, “Or perhaps it’s just the hair. Maybe all those hair products seeped into their skulls.”

“Apparently, the hair is what set Lucius off.” Harry snickered.

“Is _that_ what your sister said?” Mr Weasley grinned at him, “I’ll have to make sure I applaud her next time she’s here…”

 _“Arthur!”_ Mrs Weasley sent him a deadly look.

He gave the kids a knowing look as he lifted his head so that Mrs Weasley could attend to his lip.

“Did you hear what she said, Harry?” Ron asked eagerly.

“Something about him looking like a girl, I think.”

The boys howled with laughter. Mr Weasley chuckled, wincing as Mrs Weasley tightened her grip on his face, holding him still.

“You should check to make sure your sister is alright.” Mrs Weasley suggested to Harry, sending daggers with her normally kind eyes to them all. “And deliver her books.”

Harry took the hint and made to leave the kitchen, busying himself with sorting through their purchases in the hallway in order to avoid any further glares from Mrs Weasley.

As he piled his own books up on one side of the hallway table and Ariel’s on the other, Harry’s mind wandered from the task in hand.

If he was going to talk to Ariel, that meant he was probably going to have to talk to Snape first… over the Floo.

At the prospect of talking to Snape, Harry felt that deep yearning inside his chest to know everything he could find out about his mother. Ariel hadn’t once mentioned her to him all summer, and his curiosity was plaguing his mind for reasons why. It was hard for them to talk though, really, for they didn’t have much time alone together; there were simply far too many people in the Burrow for them to find somewhere private. Harry had wanted to ask Ariel a few times what she knew about Snape and their mum’s friendship, about why he hated their dad, but she’d been about as open about it all as Snape was. _She_ certainly wasn’t going to make the first move on the subject.

It made him want answers… even if he was possibly poking a sleeping dragon with a very sharp stick.

“Sir?” Harry called in a small voice as he bent over the Floo.

A long, agonizing moment passed before he got a response.

“Mr Potter,” Snape responded in a cold voice, brittle around the edges. “Someone had better be _dying_ for you to be disturbing me right now.”

“Er, unfortunately, _no.”_ Harry inched away from the fireplace in case Snape decided to send a nasty Hex through, “I just have Ariel’s Defense books for her. We went back into Flourish and Blotts once the Malfoys left and grabbed them… I thought I’d save you the trouble.”

There was another long pause.

“Come through then, Mr Potter.” Snape sounded defeated.

Harry simply stared into the fireplace, uncomprehendingly. Snape had never invited him to his home; Ariel always came to the Burrow. Come to think of it, today was the first time Harry had seen Snape in person all summer.

“Well, Potter?” He snapped, jolting Harry out of his thoughts. “Do you plan on sitting there all day and willing the books to bring themselves? It’s _Snape residence,_ if that’s the problem.”

He started a bit, and then took a deep breath, throwing down the Floo powder with a call of _“Snape residence!”_ greeting the green flames that swallowed him up. The words felt odd on his tongue.

It was smaller than Harry had imagined, though he hadn’t expected Snape and his sister to be living in some luxurious mansion. The living room and kitchen were one space, the place decorated with dark colors that made it feel oddly cozy. The fireplace Harry emerged from was towards the left wall of the living room, where a coffee table, two leather couches and a worn armchair surrounded it. The walls were paneled, but they could be barely seen, for bookcases crammed with books lined them, bits and pieces of parchments sticking out of some. The kitchen had the same dark woods used for the cabinets and counters, a small table crammed in the corner. Thick, dark green drapes covered all the windows, making it impossible for anyone to see anything inside.

Snape was staring at him with a strange look, definitely un-Polyjuiced.

“I would have sent for them, you know.” He said, his arms crossed across his chest.

Harry blinked, not understand what he meant before he remembered the books, tied together and held by string, in his hand. “Oh, it was no trouble, sir, really.”

“I’ll obviously reimburse you.” He jerked his head at the textbooks, eyeing them with an annoyed look Harry couldn’t categorize.

“You don’t have to do that… the money came from our parent’s vault.” Harry set the books down on the ground, his hand cramping from the weight.

“I _said,_ I will reimburse you.” Snape repeated flatly.

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but snapped it shut and gave a jerky nod instead, “Thank you, sir. You don’t have to, really…”

“Your sister is the second door on the right.” Snape interrupted, stepping aside so that Harry could see down the dark hallway behind him.

He was inviting him _further_ into his home? A year ago, Harry would have laughed outright at the idea. But now…

Harry nodded and walked quickly past Snape, who was still watching him with that strange look in his black eyes. Granted, it was better than the nasty sneer Harry had come to familiarize himself with, but now it was like he was under some kind of microscope. It was unsettling. Harry had hoped that seeing Snape in his own territory might provide some illumination into the man’s odd behavior, but he should not have been surprised to detect no change in the man’s usual demeanor whatsoever at this encounter. Snape was still just as hard to read as ever before.

Once out of Snape’s eyeline, Harry knocked on the door twice, pausing to allow Ariel to respond. When she didn’t, Harry pushed open the door himself.

Ariel’s room wasn’t what he’d expected either – it was smaller than the one she had in Snape’s quarters at Hogwarts. It was painted a greyish blue, the sheets on the bed grey and white. It sat in the very center of the room, with a small desk and chair to it’s right, a vanity on the left. The was a door next to the vanity which Harry presumed to lead to a bathroom. Ariel was stuffing something under the sheets as he entered, glancing at the door warily.

“Harry!” Her face brightened immediately, “What’re you doing here?”

“I came to drop off your books.” He grinned, dropping them down on the end of the bed and looking around, “Nice room. You should have more Quidditch posters up, though.”

Ariel shuddered, “No, thank you. Did Dad let you in?”

He nodded, leaning against her bed, “You’re grounded, then?”

She shrugged, “Don’t know. I’ve been in here since I got home. I’m sorry I ruined our trip.”

“You didn’t ruin it!” Harry rolled his eyes, “Mr Weasley and Draco’s dad threw a punch or two, apparently. We missed it.”

“They _did?”_ Ariel grinned widely, “I'd have paid a galleon or two to see that!”

They both had forgotten the door was wide open, for Snape snarled something profane that made them both wince. There was a loud bang.

 _“Anyway…”_ She eyed the open doorway cautiously, “Thank you. I’ll pay you back…”

“You really don’t have to.” Harry set the books down on the bed, “It’s all _our_ money. Mum and Dad wanted us to use it for school.”

“What are you talking about?” Ariel frowned, looking confused, “What money?”

“You haven’t seen the vault?”

“What _vault?”_

“We have one at Gringotts… Mum and Dad left us enough galleons to get us through school and on our feet when we graduate.” Harry leaned against her bedpost, “You didn’t know?”

“No…” She murmured, now eyeing the hallway suspiciously, “I had no clue…”

“What, did you think Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia paid for all my Hogwarts supplies?” Harry asked, the idea of Snape handing out sweets more realistic than _that._

Ariel’s eyes narrowed a little. “A vault, you said? A _whole_ vault…?”

Harry nodded, “Yeah, our own vault. Mr Weasley took me there to get some money from it before we met you in Diagon Alley this morning, and they took me last fall. It’s… pretty full — we don’t have to worry about how to pay our way anymore, you know.”

He’d never had money before — when the Weasley’s had presented him with a key _last_ August and brought him to Gringotts, he’d never imagined the amount of money their parents had left them was possible. Mr Weasley had assured him that it was enough to get the both of them through school and started once they graduated, along with something extra that was being held aside until they were of age.

Watching his sister’s face furrow in thought, Harry realized that this might be the first time he knew something about themselves Ariel hadn’t known already. It felt rather strange to be in this position.

“Mum and Dad…?” She queried, phrasing it as a question.

“Yeah, they left it all, for us. We’ll be fine.” Harry said. “Has Snape never mentioned it before?”

“No… I mean, I knew Dad must’ve left _something…_ but… wow.”

The peace and warmth of the moment was soon shattered in the otherwise quiet house as another door slammed shut with a bang.

“ _Potter!_ ” Came the booming command as strident footsteps loomed closer down the hallway.

Harry and Ariel both sighed, and she gave his hand a quick squeeze as she let go and pushed him towards the bedroom door with a wink.

Snape appeared in the doorway, his face still stern, and otherwise unreadable.

“Mrs Weasley has Floo’d. Apparently you’re late for dinner.”

Harry noted that he should probably tread on eggshells around erratic Mrs Weasley after today’s fiasco. He almost wished he could stay _here_ for dinner, but banished the thought as quickly as it had come.

Severus lingered in the doorway for a moment and narrowed his eyes in Ariel’s direction, before turning on his heel and pacing smartly away. Clearly he was still livid with his daughter, and not in any mood to hear her out. Ariel sighed, encouraging Harry to return to the Burrow before Mrs Weasley got too annoyed.

“Go on,” She told him, “I’ll see you soon.”  
  
Harry headed back towards the living room, passing what must be Snape’s study on the way. He glanced in as he passed only to find the man sitting behind a large desk strewn with papers, positively sneering in his direction. Harry did not wait to be given instruction, and instead Floo’d directly back to the Burrow, quietly apologizing as he took his place at the Weasleys’ dinner table.

* * *

Back in her bedroom, Ariel closed her bedroom door tightly once she had heard her brother depart. She was still angry with Severus, and didn’t have the energy to face him just yet.

Ariel had held her brother close, realizing once again that he had grown over the summer. Now, it seemed like he was maturing, too. Her conscience ached as she allowed Harry to continue believing that they really were both full-blooded Potters; this was _not_ the time to shatter the illusion, she admitted with a sigh. Then again, Ariel didn’t think that she’d ever have the strength to do that. Things had _finally_ made a turn for the better. Harry was happy with Ron and Ariel saw him almost every day, her father and her had been conversing openly, spending time brewing and reading… she didn’t think she’d _ever_ been so content, or seen Harry so.

A _vault,_ though? James and her mum had left them _money?_ If it was enough to get them through Hogwarts, it might have been a small fortune… maybe more. Ariel had assumed that anything they’d left for her and Harry was locked away somewhere until they were of age… not sitting in some vault in Gringotts. She knew that her father had a family vault at Gringotts where some items belonging to the Snape family had been stored, but she had never visited it, and didn’t imagine that it held much of value. They never talked about money.

Her father been _paying_ for her all these years when he didn’t have to. There wasn’t a doubt in Ariel’s mind that Severus knew — he knew everything, and yet, he hadn’t touched the Potter fortune _once…_

Ariel wanted to ask him about this, but Lucius was still skulking around in her head somewhere and Severus was probably looking up ways to confine her to the dungeons for the beginning of term. Instead, she reached back under the bedcovers, retrieving the old black notebook that she had stuffed there when Harry had appeared. Carefully, she opened the first page again, finding it blank as it had been before.

 _Damn ink,_ she thought, picking up her quill and inspecting the nib. She placed it to the paper, giving it another try.

_Hello?_

Ariel held her breath as the writing disappeared, fading away letter by letter, until different words appeared. Ariel grinned. Maybe it wasn’t bad ink, after all.

 _You left rather abruptly. I was afraid I had frightened you away,_ the notebook wrote back in neat, precise, handwriting.

 _Family business,_ Ariel thought, letting out a shaky sigh. She tapped at the book with her quill, and then wrote onto the page, _Who are you?_

_I believe we’ve already been through introductions._

She snorted, _It’s not every day a notebook starts talking to you._

 _You’re quite right,_ and then, _my name is Tom Riddle._

_I’m Ariel Potter._

_A beautiful name. I believe it roots translate to brave, if I remember correctly. Gryffindor, then?_

Ariel blushed a bit, not exactly knowing why. _Good guess. Are you?_

_Slytherin._

_My brother’s in Slytherin… surprised the entire school, really._

_Is that so? Is his name as telling as yours is?_

She rolled her eyes, _His name is Harry. I couldn’t tell you what his name means._

 _Hm, I don’t recall that one… German, maybe,_ the words disappeared, and nothing happened for a minute. Ariel sat there, heart beating rapidly in her chest, and wondering what to write next when another set of words appeared.

_How did you come by my diary?_

Ariel blinked, putting her quill to the page, and then stopping. She’d literally no idea how this _Tom Riddle’s_ diary had ended up in her satchel.

Instead of answering his question, she wrote, _You’re a talking diary, and yet, your first concern is how I came across you?_

 _I’d much rather talk about you,_ Riddle wrote back, _I’m quite boring really. I’ve been sitting unused for nearly fifty years._

_Is that so?_

_Indeed.  How old, may I ask, are you?_

_It’s rather impolite to ask a girl her age. Didn’t you mother teach you any manners?_

_My mother’s dead, actually, so I’m afraid not._

Ariel felt a pang of sympathy deep within her, _I’m sorry. So is mine._

_I’m sorry to hear that. I never knew mine._

_Neither did I,_ Ariel wrote, a lump forming in her throat at this. Her mum’s laugh filled her ears, her voice, her _smell_ from the memories Severus had shown her.

 _How did she die?_ Riddle wrote back.

She pressed her quill against the parchment, ready to unfold the whole story to him, when she realized that she hadn’t asked a very important question.

 _Tom, how is this possible?_ Ariel tried to stifle her nerves as her quill raced across the page, _Are you somehow stuck inside your diary?_

 _Oh, nothing so serious,_ the words immediately sprung up, _I simply performed a charm to have my diary write back to me. I didn’t have many friends in school… I thought this diary may curb my loneliness._

Shadows of old memories came over her at this… of how she’d been friendless before Damon had forced himself in. Wondering if Gryffindor had truly been the right choice for her. It was obviously it had been, but Ariel had simply holed herself up in her father’s quarters and willed the school year to go by as fast as humanly possible. Then the dreams had started, and Damon… Ariel had nearly forgotten what loneliness felt like.

She tapped the quill against her mouth, staring at the worn, yellow pages, and wrote, _How old are you?_

 _Sixteen,_ Riddle replied, _but I believed I asked you that question myself earlier._

 _I’m thirteen,_ she blushed a little, feeling embarrassed, but why, she didn’t know, _my brother’s a year younger._

_You seem to like to talk about him a lot. His name was Harry, you said?_

_Well, he’s my only living family,_ Ariel wrote before she realized that particular statement was no longer true. Before she could correct herself, she stopped and remembered the _one_ rule her father had asked her to keep, and how she’d broken it nearly hours after she’d sworn to it. Even if this Tom Riddle wasn’t a real person, Ariel wasn’t about to betray Severus _again._

_You consider family above all else, then?_

Ariel frowned at the question, _Of course. Don’t you?_

_I wouldn’t know. I have no family._

“Way to go.” She muttered to herself aloud.

 _I’m making a mess of this,_ Ariel quickly wrote, _I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel badly._

 _You haven’t,_ He wrote back, to her relief, _on the contrary, I’m rather glad that someone found my diary after all this time. It’s like I said before…_

Nothing appeared for a couple of seconds. Ariel could hear her heartbeat in her ears.

 _I do get rather lonely,_ the words finally darkened, _you can’t imagine how pleased I was when you wrote earlier._

She smiled at the words as they slowly faded. An idea suddenly bubbled up inside of her, her quill scribbling across the pages as an idea formulated inside her mind.

 _How about this?_ Ariel quickly wrote, _You tell me about your days at Hogwarts fifty years ago, and I promise I’ll write to you everyday. I’d love to hear about what it was like back then._

 _Every day?_ The words appeared so quickly that Ariel blinked in surprise.

 _Every day,_ she promised.

 _Well then, Miss Potter,_ Tom Riddle wrote, _I do believe we have a deal._

She closed the book, feeling excitement bubble up deep within her. Her mind was racing. It was like she had a friend in her pocket now. Perhaps this Tom Riddle could even tell her what to expect when it came to classes. Her busy schedule was looming over her like some great and terrible thing she didn’t know how to handle. Arithmancy and Ancient Runes were going to be a workload… along with everything else… 

In a much better mood than before, Ariel hopped off of her bed and padded to the hallway to speak to her father. She thought of telling him of the amazing diary, but shook the thought away. He’d probably think it was Voldemort and throw it in the fireplace before she could say _“paranoid.”_

The living room was lit with two candles sitting upon the coffee table. Her father was sitting in his armchair with a rather large book propped open in his lap and several sheets of parchment spread out in front him. There was a small glass of dark liquid on the table.

“I believe I told you to stay in your room until further notice.” Severus didn’t even bother looking up as she entered.

“I came to say I’m sorry.” Ariel said, seating herself on the arm of the couch diagonal from him, “For disobeying you, that is. I’m not sorry about what I said to Lucius.”

“And _that_ is precisely why you are returning to your room.” Her father snapped, the quill in his hand bending dangerously.

“Dad...” She tried, but he wasn’t having it.

“Did this past year teach you _nothing?”_ Severus finally looked up at her, black eyes glittering in the candlelight and lip curled, “I would have thought you’d realized that when I tell you to stay away from a certain person, I do so with good reason. But _no,_ it seems that you still have little to no regard in keeping your word and _staying away_ from those who wish to do you harm.”

“I _am_ keeping my promise!” Ariel said heatedly, “I didn’t _willingly_ go looking for Lucius Malfoy!”

“You _engaged_ him in conversation that ended with you _losing your temper,_ Gryffindor that you are —”

“What does being a _Gryffindor_ have to do with it?”

“You don’t know when to walk away. If you’d been _thinking,_ you would have never approached Bellatrix’s son, or at least, you would have thought enough to leave when Lucius approached you.” Severus’ eyes narrowed, “He is not a man you want to offend, Ariel.”

“He’s a Death Eater either way.” She frowned, “I don’t thinking offending him or not will change things. I wasn’t going to act like I _liked_ or respected him or anything.”

 _“Neutrality,_ my mouthy child.” Severus’ fingernails were digging into the binding of the book, “And this maneuver called _tact.”_

“He is rather horrible, though, isn’t he?” Ariel said quietly, hugging herself. Her father’s reactions were about as predictable as rolling a pair of dice. It was best to stop fighting him.

He glanced up at her, closing the book with a snap and placed it on the table.

“I do have reasons for warning you against such things, you know.” Her father still looked angry, a frostiness hanging in the air in between them.

“It wasn’t my fault.” She tried, “I saw Damon and wanted to say hi… I have to go all summer without seeing him…”

“Surely you must have realized that Mr Malfoy wouldn’t be there unaccompanied.” He gave her a disbelieving look.

“He said the same thing, actually. As soon as I went up to him he told me to go before Lucius showed up.”

Now her father looked surprised, but it was quickly chased away by indifference, “And you didn’t think to heed him?”

“Oh, so _now_ Damon’s reliable?”

“Your friendship with that boy is still mind boggling to me, but if he had enough sense to know Lucius would not take kindly to you chatting away with his nephew, then you should have listened.”

“I didn’t think Lucius would be such a…” Ariel hesitated, not knowing whether she should speak her mind, but decided that not doing so was what had led to the chaos last term, _“bastard.”_

Her father raised an eyebrow.

“Is he always like that?” She asked, softer.

Severus tilted his head in affirmation, “To those that he believes he can control and intimidate, yes. He comes from a long line of Purebloods, and I believe you’re familiar with their… _assumptions_ of those who are not within their social circles.”

 _“You’re_ not a Pureblood.” Ariel pointed out, “Yet you say you see them from time to time. They don’t treat _you_ like that, do they?”

His eyes flashed, “No… as I’ve said, Lucius is an old colleague. And I do have a Pureblood… _background.”_

“What?” She bleated, believing for a moment she couldn’t have heard you right, “But your father was a Muggle!”

“My mother was not.”

Her eyes widened, “You’ve never told me you came from a Pureblood line!”

“It’s besides the point.” Her father stiffened again, as though the mention of his mother had provoked some kind of physical response.

“Is that why you’ve never taken me to Gringotts?” Ariel asked, forgetting to filter herself before she spoke aloud, “Do you have a vault as big as the Potter one?”

Severus went very still, the hand reaching toward what was undoubtedly firewhiskey in that glass freezing mid-reach.

“Sorry.” She mumbled, feeling a rush of heat flood up to her face, “I didn’t mean to sound so… _blunt._ You know money doesn’t matter to me. Harry mentioned a vault to me when he came… why didn’t you ever tell me?” 

He leaned away from the drink, lifting a hand to rub his face, “You are my daughter. It is my responsibility to provide for you on my own income. That money… I was hoping you would take your share, untouched, when you graduated and put it towards training for whatever career you chose.”

“But if Mum and James wanted me to use it for school…” Ariel bit her lip, “You shouldn’t have to pay for me if I have money of my own.”

“You’re _my_ child.” Her father bit out, “I wasn’t about to sustain you, or myself, for that matter, on _Potter’s_ money.”

Ariel sighed and let herself fall onto the couch, bouncing against the cushions as she settled. Severus did the same, leaning back in the armchair and let his eyes close. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose – a telltale Severus-sign that he was stressed.

“I _am_ sorry.” She said quietly, avoiding eye contact, “I didn’t mean to lose my temper like that.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stood and seated himself beside her on the couch and wrapped an arm around her middle. Ariel was surprised by it. She’d been expecting him to dismiss her to her room for the rest of the night, but many things had changed between them in the prior months. He’d spoken his mind to her more, let her know what he was thinking instead of Ariel trying to read his stone-cold face.

“Stop challenging those I can't openly protect you from.” Severus whispered to the top of her head.

“I don’t need you to protect me.” Ariel grumbled, “If you’d have let me, I could have punched him in the throat, you know.”

“And _then_ what?” Her father growled, “You impale him with his own wand when he whips it out and tries to curse you?”

“I was getting there. Mr Weasley interrupted. I was on it.” Ariel joked weakly, leaning against his chest when his glare made her stomach churn.

“What _exactly_ did he say to you?” His eyes turned into dangerous slits.

“He said…” She paused, fearing his reaction, “that he _‘didn’t see what all the fuss was about.’”_

Severus went very still. “And what was _that_ supposed to mean?”

“I think he was… saying I wasn’t pretty, I guess.” Ariel said in a small voice, wondering why her chest hurt when she said that. It’s not like _Lucius Malfoy’s_ opinion of her mattered – _especially_ if he thought she was ugly. What did _that_ matter?

The arm around her automatically tightened, and when Ariel nervously peeked up at him, her father looked like he was choking back a scream. His jaw had clenched in a way that seemed painful.

“Sodding prick.” Her father seethed aloud.

A bit alarmed at his language, for he usually never spoke as such in front of her, Ariel peeked up at him.

“It’s not a big deal.” She shrugged, trying to downplay it.

“It’s not true.” Severus snarled.

“I…” Ariel’s mouth open and closed several times as her mind tried to formulate a response to that. Severus had never been one to _say_ things like _that…_

“I should have been there.” He muttered. “I shouldn’t have let you go by yourself.”

“I _wasn’t_ by myself!” She protested. “I was with Harry and Ron! We were _fine..._ I mean, we were bound to meet Lucius someday, weren’t we?”

Her father rubbed at his eyes. “I was hoping to put off that _joyous_ occasion for as long as possible. He’s always been… _interested_ in you and Potter. I’m sure whatever Draco and Bellatrix’s brat have told him has only fed into it.”

“Damon wouldn’t tell him anything!” Ariel said sharply, twisting herself around to glower at him.

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I _do.”_

Ariel didn’t try and argue further. She knew what it was – her father was only trying to protect her, but so was Damon, in his Annoying Damon Way. He was her best friend… for Merlin’s sake, he’d _hugged_ her when Ariel had told him what had happened with the Stone.

“If _anything_ this year is… _unusual,_ you will come and tell me.” Severus jerked her chin up, “Promise me, Ariel.”

“I promise.” She rolled her eyes, thankful they had moved on, “I don’t think You-Know-Who is going to attach himself to anyone else’s head, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not worried about the Dark Lord. I’m worried about _you_ and your recent attempt to play hero.”

“You know, you were kind of asking for it.” Ariel smirked against his arm.

“Oh? How’s that?” She could hear an eye roll in there somewhere.

“My name means _brave,_ apparently. And since _you_ named me…”

If she had looked up, Ariel would have seen the look up surprise on his face.

“Where did you learn that?” She heard him murmur. A hand was steadily combing through her hair.

“Read it,” She yawned, letting her eyes close of their own accord, “in a book.”


	36. Prelude to Disaster

Aboard the Hogwarts Express a week later, Ariel threw her belongings into the compartment where Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had settled themselves and began scouring the train for Damon.

The Lucius incident had soon been forgotten about, since Ariel had a lot to distract herself with. There had, of course, been Tom, but she’d been too busy the final week of her holiday to do much writing to him. Severus had been enlisting her help with brewing, and her only other free time was spent with Harry at the Burrow. They’d coordinated a plan to get the owl on the train without alerting Severus it was _hers –_ Ron would pretend it was his. Ariel had named the owl Tidings, after a wizard who had supposedly ruled part of France for part of the 14th century

It didn’t take Ariel long to find Damon. He was sitting crossed-legged across from Draco in an otherwise empty compartment.  They seemed to be in a deep conversation, arguing even, though they weren’t yelling. Both of them were leaning forward, faces set in a mixture of agitation and determination. Ariel stood there with her hand on the handle, hesitating and wondering if she should come back, but then again, it was only _Draco._

She knocked at the glass, both of their heads whipping simultaneously to look at her. A sneer grew on Draco’s face like some kind of infection, while Damon seemed more reserved. He didn’t smile like he usually did when he saw her.

“I’ve been looking _everywhere_ for you.” Ariel said as she slid open the door, echoing the words he’d used last year when he’d found _her_ aboard the train.

Damon cracked a small grin while Draco rolled his eyes.

“Lose Potty, did you?” Draco practically spat at her, “I’m sure he’s off trying to be a Gryffindor with Weasley and Granger.”

“I would imagine my brother’s chosen the farthest compartment away from _you_ , actually.” Ariel shot back, giving Damon a disapproving look, “I’d like to talk with _you,_ _alone,_ if that's alright.”

 _“We_ were talking, actually.” Draco snapped, “The Gryffindor princess will have to wait.”

Ariel just kept staring at Damon, waiting for him to say something, but he seemed to be struggling with the words. A frown began to form on her face. He’d never been one to hesitate telling his cousin to go away – was he acting strangely because of what had happened that day with Lucius? Was he angry at her, too?

“I can come back.” Ariel said, though her tone made it clear she had no intentions of leaving.

“No, it’s fine.” Damon finally signed, giving Draco a knowing look, “We were just finishing, anyway.”

 _“Damon!”_ Draco hissed, looking deeply offended, “But you’ve just said –”

“Go, Draco.” He sighed, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. It was then that Ariel noticed he had the beginnings of dark circles under his eyes.

“Fine.” Draco eyed her as though she was something found on the bottom of his boot as he stood up, _“Your_ funeral.”

And then he slipped from the compartment without another word.

“What the hell was that about?” Ariel demanded as soon as Draco had left, seating herself firmly across from her friend.

“Nothing.” Damon’s eyes were a million miles away as he gazed out the window, “We just have… different opinions about certain things, in case you didn’t learn that last year.”

“I see.” She said quietly, leaning back, “So what was it this time?”

He didn’t answer for a long moment, only turning to finally look at her when he did, “Lucius.”

Ariel gave a quiet snort, but immediately sobered. Not knowing whether Damon had been alright after the Flourish and Blotts incident had come and gone, but she’d reassured herself that Damon knew how to take care of himself. He was strong, clever enough to make it seem like they had simply bumped into one another. That was… unless _Draco_ had told Lucius something, which wasn’t a long stretch at all. Damon had told her that if Draco had, which he’d told her he had no idea of knowing, that he had a plan to downplay it…

Perhaps her father was right. Maybe their friendship would turn out to do more harm than good. Damon was certainly acting like that right now. Ariel definitely hadn’t been expecting him to be so… _quiet_ after three months apart.  And _especially_ so reserved around Draco.

“You didn’t get in trouble, did you?” Ariel asked in a softer voice.

His eyes went back to the window. Something hard and sharp squeezed her stomach into knots.

“No, I didn’t.” Damon finally said, a rush of relief sweeping through her mind at once, only to be replaced with more confusion. Why was he acting so strangely, then?

“Did Lucius have any suspicions?” She ventured, trying to get him to talk, “Come on, Damon, you’re not acting like yourself. Tell me what’s wrong! If it’s what I did… what I said to him, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose my temper so badly.”

“What the hell were you thinking?” Damon demanded in a loud voice, startling her, “I _told_ you to go when you came up to me!”

“He _insulted_ me.” Ariel frowned, crossing her arms defensively, “I don’t need you to tell me I was wrong, okay? My father already gave me enough grief for it. I know to avoid him now. I’m _sorry.”_

He was rubbing at his face now, looking oddly defeated. It was like he was hearing this again, and Ariel felt her growing irritation flare.

 _“What,_ Damon?” She cried, throwing her hands up in exasperation.

“Draco didn’t tell Lucius.” Damon said, looking her straight in the eye. Some of the blue in his eyes wasn’t there.

Her eyebrows furrowed together, “Tell him _what?_ About us being friends?”

“Yes.”

Ariel blinked owlishly, “Wait, _really? Why?_ I would have thought he’d of written to his parents the second he found out!”

He sighed, standing to seat himself beside her. Ariel turned to look at him, all of her annoyance fading into concern. Damon looked… _torn._

“I know Draco and I haven’t… from the looks of things, we aren’t _close.”_ Each word sounded like it had taken a lot of thought to produce, “I haven’t talked about him because I didn’t know how he’d react to you and I and Harry all being mates. It’s always been just Draco and I, but he idolizes Lucius and I don’t. You know I… don’t want any part of all their… _stuff.”_

Ariel said nothing, waiting patiently for him to continue.

“Draco and I might’ve acted like we hated each other,” He went on, “but it was only because he felt betrayed. I don’t challenge Lucius because I know what he’ll do to me –”

 _“Do to you?”_ Ariel repeated, her face hardening, “What are you talking about?”

“What, you think Lucius would just accept the fact that you and I are friends?” Damon snorted, “After you came up to me in the bookstore, he spent three hours grilling me about what I knew about you.”

Her blood ran cold, “You… you didn’t tell him anything, did you?”

“Of course not!” He looked hurt, and then, a bit disgruntled, “I thought you trusted me.”

“I do, Damon!” Ariel grabbed his hand and squeezed it, making his eyes snap up to meet hers, “But…” She looked around, making sure there were no eavesdroppers about, “you know about my dad… if he knew _you_ knew…”

“I’m not a liability!” Damon said fiercely, “He’s suspicious, Ariel, but he has nothing to go on. You weren’t exactly around long enough.”

“So then that’s what Draco was talking about with you before I came in.” Ariel guessed, her theory confirmed when Damon fell against the seat and looked up at the ceiling.

“He thinks our friendship is… _dangerous.”_ He muttered, “Like Lucius isn’t an even bigger problem.”

“Is it?” She swallowed loudly, feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt come over her. She’d been stupid to say anything at all to Damon about her father being her _father,_ but at all time, it had been nothing but word vomit. Was being her friend doing him more harm than good? Severus had grudgingly admitted that perhaps Ariel could lead him away from bad influences in Slytherin… but if Lucius dug deep enough…

“No, Ariel, it’s not.” Damon said in a quiet voice, staring at the space in front of them, “Don’t worry about it… I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“If our friendship jeopardizes your _safety…_ maybe…”

“No!” He nearly shouted, looking alarmed, “No, of course not! We’re best mates, but we just might have to be more careful, is all I’m saying.”

“But Draco…”

“Draco didn’t say anything to spare me, and I’m grateful to him for that.” Damon sighed, “He just doesn’t see why I wanted to be your friend in the first place.”

“Damon…” Ariel began, about to argue further, but stopped herself. He already looked tired… she was briefly reminded of her father at this age. In Severus’ memories, he’d constantly looked like he was fighting a losing battle. To see Damon like this…

“Okay.” She leaned her head on his shoulder and let the silence take over for a bit. He went rigid at the initial contact, but it melted away soon enough. Their hands were still entwined.

“You know that Lockhart guy is our new Defense teacher?” Damon said after several minutes, a familiar sarcastic edge to his voice.

“Really?” Ariel raised an eyebrow up at him, “I didn’t get to meet him. What’s he like?”

“Oh, trust me, you’d rather find that out for yourself.”

* * *

Dumbledore came to see Severus as he was restocking the last of the Valerian roots in his private stores. He heard his name being called from the living room, and had sighed, kneading his forehead. He’d been avoiding Dumbledore since Quirrell had almost killed Ariel and Potter, unable to hold a decent conversation without spitting out some sort of obscenity. Severus knew, deep down, that the old man cared for them, wanted them safe as much as he did, but he couldn’t help but still feel helpless whenever he looked at him. It was like a constant reminder that the Dark Lord had broken through and found them where they were supposed to be safest.

“Ah, there you are, my boy.” Dumbledore appeared in the doorway, dressed in bright red robes – Severus gave them a filthy look before meeting his eyes. They were clear and calm, like the sky outside.

“Where else would I be?” Severus muttered, stuffing the remainder of the roots in a jar, wishing he could do the same to Dumbledore. He wanted to be left alone before the little cretins poured in.

“I had checked the staff room,” He said lightly. “but Minerva regretted to inform me that you hadn’t stopped by just yet.”

Dumbledore knew he fucking hated pleasantries. He was doing this because he knew Severus was still angry – still bitter and fearful. He knew he had failed those children as much as Severus had.

“You and I haven’t seemed to have crossed paths since Voldemort attempted to steal the Stone.” He went on.

“Maybe that’s because my child was almost murdered under your watch.” Severus said flatly.

Dumbledore finally lost some of his cheerfulness, the lines in his face deepening. “You know as well as I that if I had suspected Quirrell of being capable of what he was –”

“That doesn’t make it better.” Severus snapped. “I _told_ you they were in more danger than you assumed, and you dismissed me!”

“I did no such thing.” said Dumbledore. “I did what I could do, my boy. You know that. How long will you hold this against me, Severus?”

Done what he could – he’d done would he could eleven years ago, and now Lily was gone, and Potter was orphaned, and Severus was left to raise a child that hungered for her mother. But who was he, to accuse Dumbledore, when he’d all but raised cast the Killing Curse himself when he’d told the Dark Lord –

“There’s nothing to forgive.” Severus lied. “I share in the blame. I’ve simply been… preoccupied.”

Dumbledore almost look distressed, for a moment, like he was about to put a comforting hand on his arm, but he said nothing more on the subject. Severus took the pause to begin depositing Teatrop sap into vials.

“How are they?” Dumbledore asked softly. “I must admit – I’ve been looking forward to seeing the both of them again.”

“Potter is fine.” Severus said tonelessly. “I’m sure the Weasley clan has kept him thoroughly entertained.”

“And Ariel?” Dumbledore asked.

He didn’t like that question. He wasn’t one to talk about his child like he had any right to, even though there was a wave of possessiveness that washed over him every time someone brought up Ariel’s name. Their summer together had been – well, Severus _hadn’t_ awoken every day hating himself, to put it in simple terms. The girl had been careful enough to give him his space, but Ariel had also been bolder, more willing to approach him. She hadn’t been this way since she’d been small, and childhood innocence had clouded Severus’ demeanor to her. As Ariel had gotten older and the kingdom of childhood had crumbled, she’d receded, but after everything that had happened between them…

“She’s doing well.” Severus decided on quietly. “She’s… happy enough, with where Potter is. It’s easier to talk to her openly since I told her the truth.”  

“I imagine that’s a relief for you.”

There had been something wonderfully disquieting about it. On one hand, their relationship was stronger than ever – possibly the most it had ever been at all. Severus no longer felt like he was taking something that wasn’t his, because Ariel knew, and still accepted him. He’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop and for Ariel to realize… to come to the conclusion that Severus was not worth her time or love, but she kept coming back. He didn’t understand it, and _because_ he didn’t, Severus felt vulnerable, like there was a part of him shrouded in darkness that not even he could reach. Ariel was his ultimate triumph, and his greatest weakness.

“It makes communicating easier.” Severus said dismissively. “She’s thirteen, now, and Merlin knows the little cretins act like animals when they reach that age.”

He knew Dumbledore could see right through him – he was twinkling. The day Severus revealed how he really felt, however, was the day he adopted Potter. He had not spoken the tattered remains of his heart, nor the secrets of his mind, since the day Dumbledore had ushered him into Minerva’s office to meet his daughter.

“Well, I’m glad your holiday was enjoyable.” Dumbledore said, and Severus glared – he hadn’t said that, and didn’t like that his true feelings were being spoken aloud. “The train has just arrived, so I think I’ll head up to the Great Hall soon. Would you care to join?”

“I’m busy.” Severus waved him away dismissively. “I’ll come when I’m finished here.”

Dumbledore gave him a semblance of a disapproving look – Severus knew it wasn’t serious, because his eyes were bright. “Surely this can wait until after.”

“If I’m restocking,” He said snidely, “then perhaps I’ll be late for the Feast.”

“You don’t enjoy it?”

“I don’t enjoy anything.”

“I don’t believe that.” Dumbledore smiled knowingly. “Besides – we have a new faculty member joining us.”

Severus tensed, immediately feeling his annoyance about the matter creeping up on him, like fog. He’d done an exemplary job at hiding his anger over the matter from Ariel, but the newest hire had Severus _seething_ if he dwelled on it for too long. The day he’d gone to Diagon Alley with Ariel, he’d seen the man’s face plastered all over the streets, and then when he’d received the announcement that the creep was going to be _teaching –_

Granted, Severus wasn’t suited to be a professor – he fucking hated children – but Gilderoy Lockhart was an _insult_ in comparison to him. At least _Severus_ knew what he was doing.

“Yes,” Severus said, letting his revulsion show plainly. “I’m aware.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t voiced your opinion.”

“Well,” Severus scowled, his eyes glittering. “I didn’t think I had to make it known that a man who wears _sequins_ being hired over _me_ was something I found profoundly insulting.”

“Interesting,” Dumbledore said lightly, ignoring him. “Minerva was just saying something to me about that earlier.”

“The man is an eyesore.” He snapped. “He brands _you_ tame in comparison.”

“My, is that a compliment, Severus?” Dumbledore beamed.

“Go away.” Severus snarled. “Before I turn your robes into a more sensible color.”

He chuckled. “I wore this tonight in order to give Gilderoy chance – these are some of my more sensible robes.”

“How thoughtful.” Severus rolled his eyes, trying not to vomit. “It would be _such_ a pity if any of my ingredients were to ruin them, then.”

 “I’ll get out of your way, them.” Dumbledore said, retreating from the doorway.

Severus let out a sigh of relief when he heard the Floo ignite, and fell into the chair placed in the center of the room. If there was anyone he hoped the Defense Curse would do in, it was Lockhart. It was also less likely that the Dark Lord would attach himself to the imbecile’s head – Severus shuddered at the mental image.

The train had arrived, Dumbledore had said. As much as Severus wanted to avoid children until the last possible second… Ariel and Potter were among them, and if the two of them were anything, it was accident-prone. Once _that_ thought passed through his head, Severus found that he didn’t want to stay in the stockroom another minute.

He mentally prepared himself, and stalked up to the Great Hall.

* * *

The Feast was as grand as ever, the Sorting a quick affair. Ginny Weasley had been Sorted into Gryffindor, as expected, and had joined Hermione and Ariel at their table. Harry and Damon were sitting with the Slytherins. For the first meal of the year, it felt right to sit with their respective Houses.

Dumbledore introduced Professor Lockhart, who somehow, wore robes that were more offending than the Headmaster’s. They were a blinding yellow, a pointed hat atop his seemingly perfect hair to finish the look. He smiled widely as the hall clapped. It was then that Ariel noticed that all the girls at the table seemed to be staring at him with a starry look in their eyes. She looked around, confused, until she realized, with a groan, that all the girls must _fancy_ him because he was _handsome._

Her father looked sullener than usual at his usual spot at the end of the table. Ariel wondered why he hadn’t mentioned that this Lockhart guy was their new Defense professor, but by the looks of it, it seemed as though he wasn’t too thrilled. In fact, Ariel counted five sneers sent his way just during the Sorting alone.

“He’s brilliant, really.” Hermione was telling Lavender and Parvati, “I’ve already read all of his books. He’s been all over the world hunting dark creatures for _years.”_

“He _hunts?”_ Ariel asked, disbelieving, “He looks like he goes looking for every shade of the rainbow for his wardrobe.”

Ron and Seamus laughed at that, while Hermione blushed profusely.

“Well, how else could he have authored all those books?” She snapped, “You haven’t read them!”

“There were _seven_ of them! I didn’t know where to begin!”

“I would have thought you’d have gotten a head start.” Hermione said in a knowing tone as she picked another roll from the platter in front of them, “At least familiarize yourself with them.”

“I think I know what I’m doing, thanks.” Ariel bristled, “I do pretty well academically, for your information.”

“You won’t stay that way if you don’t read up.” said Hermione.

“He’s a prima donna.” Ron cut in before Ariel could stab her with her fork, “You didn’t see him in the bookstore that day, Mione. He’s totally full of himself. What kind of teacher makes all of his students go out and buy _every single_ one of his books?”

“He’s got a point.” Ariel said as Hermione huffed in irritation, “Wouldn’t it make sense for every year to get at least _one_ book? Why’d we have to get _all_ of them?”

“I don’t pretend to know what Professor Lockhart’s logic is!” Hermione said shrilly, “If you’d bothered to read his texts, you’d see that he really is brilliant!”

“He made us buy his _autobiography.”_ She raised an eyebrow.

The boys at the table, specifically the Weasleys, were choking on their food with laughter. Ginny even giggled a bit, while the older girls, mainly Hermione, Lavender, and Parvati looked as though Ariel had just told them she’d killed her pet cat or something.

Dumbledore dismissed them for the night soon after that. Ariel waved at Harry and Damon, who were seemingly deep in conversation about something. It was nice, she thought, that the overwhelming need to be with him every minute of every day had settled. The holiday had been… what was the word her father had used the day he’d brought her to the playground? Cathartic?

Ariel hadn’t talked to Tom all week, she realized, immediately feeling horrible as she settled into her bed in Gryffindor Tower. Her father had set to brewing potions to restock the infirmary and Ariel had offered to help. Since her days were usually spent at the Weasley’s, her nights were late and hunched over a cauldron of Dreamless Sleep. Severus had let her handle the _easy stuff,_ she’d called it, while Severus had handled the more complicated brews. Needless to say, she’d been going to bed near or after midnight, falling into bed without a second thought for poor Tom’s diary.

She flipped it open, drawing the curtains around her bed closed as Katie and Sally began talking about, wonder of wonders, _Lockhart._

“He’s even dreamier in person.” Katie sighed longingly as Ariel made a face. There was nothing _dreamy_ about a man whose robes challenged Dumbledore’s. The Headmaster was going to have to step up his game, it seemed.

 _Tom,_ Ariel wrote as Sally launched into a story about how her mum had apparently dated him back in the day, _I haven’t forgotten about you. I’m sorry I haven’t written._

 _It’s quite alright,_ Tom’s handwriting appeared, _I had figured as much. Have you started school yet?_

_I have. I’ve just gotten back from the Feast._

_Ah, I see. I always enjoyed the Feast, but found myself wanting to start the new curriculum as soon as possible. I was a bit of an overachiever, I guess you could say._

Ariel snorted softly, _I could use another day or so._

_Why is that?_

_I want to do well, but I don’t think I’m ready to start just yet._

_I was the same way,_ his words brought a small smile to her face, _just focus on what you’re lacking in. The classes you know you have a knack for, save your free time for._

_I need to do well in Defense this year. I can’t have another teacher who doesn’t teach._

_Ah, Defense. Am I correct in assuming that’s your best area?_

Ariel raised an eyebrow at his words, _Potions is, actually, but it’s a close second. How’d you guess?_

_Intuition. Whether your professor has a head full of sawdust or not, your talent will get you far enough._

_Who was your Defense professor?_ She underlined _your_ twice.

_Merrythought. Smart man, talked a bit too much, though._

Ariel blinked, a bit shocked, _I had his grandson my first year! I’m not sure what happened to him. I’ve had a different Defense professor every year, so far._

_Who is the professor now?_

_This bloke Lockhart. He’s apparently a celebrity of some sort. He’d better be as good a professor as everyone makes him sound._

_I could always tutor you._ Tom wrote, _It was my best subject, and seeing as I am nearly fifty years older than you…_

_You’re a notebook, Tom._

_Yes, I’m aware of that,_ the words appeared quicker than usual, _but I can tell_ (tell was underlined) _you what to do._

Butterflies took flight inside her stomach, _Maybe._

_It’s not cheating, if that’s what you’re concerned with. I know you Gryffindors are concerned with your nobility and honor and all._

_And Slytherins don’t offer help unless it buys them something in return,_ Ariel’s eyes narrowed.

_I’m a whisper of the boy I was, Ariel. I’m simply a diary. There is nothing I can gain or lose from aiding you, except relief from boredom, perhaps._

_I thought our deal was to talk of your time at Hogwarts while I deal with your boredom?_

_Do you not want my help?_

Ariel bit the end of her quill. Surely it couldn’t hurt to have him help her. Quite frankly, she wasn’t sure why she hadn’t immediately accepted his offer. Something felt… _wrong_ about it that she couldn’t put her finger on…

 _Of course I do,_ Ariel finally wrote.

 _Brilliant,_ Tom said, _now, where do we begin?_


	37. Poet

Severus wanted Lockhart to be thrown into a box, Obliviated, and sent to some god forsaken ice chunk in the Antarctic where he would suffer until the blithering idiot froze to death.

Dumbledore would later tell him he didn’t know the man well enough to make such assumptions so quickly, but for now, Severus was quite content in hating him. The moron was currently bragging to Sprout about how he’d apparently cornered a vampire in Romania and single handedly rendered it harmless and stuffed it inside of a coffin, and been awarded a medal of honor and valor by the wizarding village it had been terrorizing.

The day Severus saw that man take down anything except his ego a couple of pegs, he’d no sooner be a Hufflepuff. For the first time Severus could recall, he willingly sat down next to Minerva that morning for breakfast, who was watching the sight as though she’d bitten into a lemon.

“Good morning, Severus.” She greeted, her cat-like eyes never leaving Lockhart for a moment. At least he was somewhere they could all keep an eye on him, Severus thought to himself.

“Is it?” He muttered, feeling some of the tension subside as his mug filled with strong, fresh black coffee. He was going to need it if he was going to survive today.

“A new term,” Minerva said lightly, “a new outlook.”

Still, her eyes remained fixed on Lockhart.

“You sound like him.” Severus jerked his head in the direction of Dumbledore, who was listening to The Thing with perfect hair and teeth with rapt attention.

Minerva shook her head, looking put upon as she spread marmalade on her toast, “Now now, Severus, I may agree with your opinion of our newest colleague –”

He snorted, downing the rest of his coffee before reaching for a second cup.

“I just don’t understand Albus’ reasoning behind it.” She stopped mid-stroke with her knife and gave him a knowing look. Severus wondered where the knife would end up next.

“We very rarely do.” Severus said dryly, sipping his coffee and watching as Sprout desperately tried to make her escape.

She chuckled at this, shaking her head, “Whatever his reasoning is, I just hope the students don’t suffer. Quirinus was… good _enough,_ but I believe too much of his focus was spent on one area.”

Severus stifled the urge to spit at the mention of the name. Instead, he balled his fist under the table and gripped the side of his mug tighter, the ceramic almost breaking. He couldn’t contain his temper at the mention of Quirrell since he’d found the children on the floor, one of them writhing in agony, the other choking –

“How is Ariel, now?” Minerva asked, as though she’d read his mind.

His eyes found the girl, then, huddled with her group of friends, and the boy, at the Gryffindor table. Severus noticed that some of the first years looked confused at the sight of two Slytherins sitting there, but the wide eyes and looks of revulsion of last year seemed to have dissipated. Dumbledore had called it a _change in the tides._ A Slytherin and Gryffindor, even if two of them were brother and sister, coexisting harmoniously. There was only one other instance Severus could think of himself that described a similar situation, but that particular thought hurt to much to even entertain, for it had been far too short lived.

“Fine.” Severus nodded as Minerva offered him a sausage after serving herself, “A bit on edge with the start of term, maybe, but Ariel has never been one to back away from a challenge.”

“I’m sure she’ll be just fine.” Minerva waved at him dismissively, “That girl has been itching to prove herself since I first let her sit in on a lesson.”

He made an agreeing sound, his dark eyes flickering back to Lockhart, who was now launching into his _third_ story about vampires that morning. Sprout looked as though she wanted to turn into plant matter, while the old codger continued to listen with an infuriating twinkle in his blue eyes.

“And what about Harry, then?” Minerva asked, snapping Severus away from his glaring.

What about the boy, indeed.

“Harry…?” Severus repeated, unsure of what exactly Minerva was trying to get at.

“Harry, Severus.” She replied, looking Severus directly in the eye, this time, “How is he coping?”

Severus considered his response carefully before opening his mouth; Merlin knew how Minerva McGonagall always had been one to read far too much into other people’s words, he reminded himself.

“The boy is no different now than he was before the… _event.”_ He trailed off, not wishing to be pushed into making any comments he may later regret, “He is not showing any signs of distress.” He added in attempt to show Minerva that he was more than capable of ensuring that his Snakes were sufficiently cared for, including the Potter boy.

“Hmmm…” Minerva murmured in reply, seemingly unconvinced. Severus knew it to be the same sound she made when inspecting her students’ poor efforts at the end of her classes, and he felt very clearly judged.

As much as he wanted this awkward avenue of conversation to cease immediately, Severus was not prepared to suddenly see Lockhart rising from his seat at the other end of the table, and begin making a beeline straight for where he was currently sitting. He swore under his breath and earned another reprimanding glance from Minerva.

“Ah, Severus!” A smile nearly blinded him, all of his colleagues’ eyes now upon him, “I had hoped to resolve any hard feelings before breakfast ended and our term begun!”

Minerva seemed to be biting her glass of pumpkin juice in order to keep from spitting it out. Dumbledore was watching them curiously. The others leaned away, undoubtedly anticipating the imbeciles impending death. Severus had many feelings towards the man, several of which, in fact, he’d never speak aloud, but he’d no idea what Lockhart was going on about at that moment.

He simply raised a questioning eyebrow, not trusting himself to speak, _especially_ in front of the Headmaster. The last thing he needed this morning was the old coot wagging a finger at him, like Severus was some kind of disobedient miscreant.

“The Defense position.” Lockhart clarified.

Severus’ face darkened faster than a summer storm, sending a homicidal glare straight at Dumbledore. Why that interfering, _blabber mouthed old —_

“He’s mentioned that for the past several years you’ve been unsuccessful in securing it for yourself.” Lockhart went on, making hand gestures, as though he were trying to illustrate his apparent triumph.

Severus was going to kill him. Not today, or even this year maybe, but one day, it was bound to happen.

“Did he?” He forced through bared teeth. Dumbledore was now watching the students before them as though a murder attempt wasn’t unfolding only inches to his right.

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine as potions master another year.” Lockhart said in a bright sort of voice that made him think of Molly Weasley, but in a much darker light. Severus could feel his heartbeat in his ears, his fingers digging into his kneecaps as the offending mass of robes and hair products flounced – it was so undignified that it couldn’t be anything other than a flounce – away.

Severus turned his sneer down to his plate and willed himself not to give into his temper just yet. Instead, he allowed his fork to impale the sausage on his plate. The metal made a rather loud, unpleasant sound against the ceramic as he scraped along.

“Well, the man did have to contain _some kind of_ courage in order to take down all those alleged monsters.” Minerva finally said, rather loftily. Severus got the impression she wasn’t what she was really referring to.

The plate cracked in two. The sound was loud enough so that the staff table ceased its chatter for a pause, and the din in the Great Hall diminished just slightly. The noise had grabbed the attention of several students, one of whom being Ariel. Her dark eyes were asking Severus if he was alright, but he simply shook her head at her and sighed. He turned back Minerva, who was asking the same question with her half amused, half stern expression.

“Idiot.” Severus said under his breath, seething into his coffee, “I hope the curse does do him in.”

“Severus Snape!” Minerva admonished, a smile playing on the edge of her lips.

“Oh dear spare me the chiding.” He pushed away from the table, giving Dumbledore one last withering glare before standing and looking down at her as she took another sip of her pumpkin juice, looking satisfied.

“Keep an eye on her.” Severus said in a low voice, jerking his head in the direction of his daughter. Potter was laughing at something as Ariel smacked Bellatrix’s brat upside the head playfully.

Minerva quirked an eyebrow at him, “Do you suspect her up to something already?”

 _She’s always up to something,_ said the Slytherin in him.

“The last time I checked,” Severus frowned, “it was simply your _job.”_

She almost looked offended by that, her mouth parting to undoubtedly retort, but then it snapped shut, and something just shy of a smirk spread across her face.

“And _you_ keep a watch on young Harry.” Minerva said mildly, reaching for the hot water and a tea bag, “I believe that’s _your_ job.”

Severus’ gaze went to Potter automatically, who, as though he’d heard his name, looked straight at him, green eyes full of a mystery and a certain knowledge that made his chest tighten.

_The boy in the mirror, smiling, laughing, his mother’s eyes sparkling_

He threw a halfhearted sneer her way before he exited, handing the time tables to the Slytherin prefects and heading away from the Great Hall, eager to begin the day for once and forget about the things that were about as complicated as Dumbledore’s logic for hiring an ignoramus.

* * *

She’d written to Tom long after the rest of the girls had gone to bed last night.

If Ariel had been able to hear his voice, she was quite sure that Tom’s would hold a kind of reverence when he talked about magic. The way he described technique and such made it sound like an art form. He was a never ending fountain of information, each of her questions answered without leaving her feeling like she still wasn’t getting something. They’d focused on Stunners, for the most part. Harboring power, holding off a bit before casting, apparently, enhanced the caster’s spell.

He liked talking about theory as well, although Ariel lacked an interest in that area herself. Understanding was an important part of actually practicing magic, yes, but there was something about being ignorant of the powers that be that made everything much more fun for her. Ariel _liked_ not knowing origins, because with explanations, things became complicated. Magic, in her opinion, shouldn’t be debated. Luckily, Tom seemed to pick up on that and had resumed his lesson on strengthening Stunners before Ariel’s eyes had began to burn for rest.

The next morning, Damon had growled all through breakfast about having to lug all seven textbooks up from the dungeons for use in Lockhart’s class. Hermione never handled insults about books well, but at Damon’s words, she sent him a look and quickly cast a Featherweight charm on their textbooks, her lips as tight as the arms drawn across her chest.

Ariel still couldn’t believe that there were _seven_ of them and that she had yet to read a single one. She’d tried taking a crack at the autobiography after writing to Tom last night, but the entire first chapter had been the apparent wonderment and awe that had struck the wizarding world the day Lockhart was born, and Ariel hadn’t been able to force herself to read any further. It was nauseating.

She had a feeling she wasn’t going to be a member of the Gilderoy Lockhart fan club anytime soon, but all possible likeability for the man vanished within the first thirty seconds of his class.

“Ariel Potter!” Lockhart practically sang as she entered his class for morning Defense.

She jumped, sending Damon a look that asked what she’d done, but he looked just as confused as she did. Lockhart was making his way towards her as she stood in the doorway, purple robes billowing behind him in a way that made him look silly, as opposed to her father, who looked menacing with his black ones.

“I had hoped to meet you and your brother at the same time, but as you know, duty called.” Lockhart laughed, an obnoxious sound that made her cringe as much as his autobiography had.

Ariel had no earthly idea what he was going on about. She just wanted it to stop. She _hated_ attention.

“I’d been hoping to meet you when you purchased my literature.” He gestured to the books piled high on everyone’s desks, “I must have missed you, unless you didn’t want to be found. I can only imagine the nerves when meeting a fellow celebrity of my caliber.”

Maybe if she shut her eyes he’d go away.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Lockhart went on, keeping an arm slung over her shoulder tightly as he twirled them around so that they were at the front of the room, standing before the entire class, “You think that me meeting you is nothing. You’re thinking, _‘he's an internationally famous wizard already! Why bother with me, a nobody?’”_

Ariel wasn’t thinking any of those things. In fact, she was thinking something a lot more specific with a few choice words. A _nobody?_

 _“I don’t see what all the fuss is about.”_ Lucius had said.

“But when I was thirteen, I was just as much of a nobody as you are now. In fact, I’d say I was even more of a nobody! I mean, a few people have heard of you, haven't they? All that business with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" He glanced at the lightning scar on Ariel’s forehead. "I know, I know — it's not quite as good as winning Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award five times in a row, as I have, but it's a start, Ariel, it's a start. And you can follow my example, of course" He exclaimed, opening his arms out wide as if preening himself. “Because, after all, celebrity is as celebrity does, remember.”

She missed Quirrell. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

Ariel sent a pleading look to Damon, who was settling behind his desk, his face a mixture of sympathetic mortification and humor. Hestia and Flora Carrow were snickering, pointing from behind the books they had propped up on their desks. Ariel wanted to smash their faces into the wood.

The arm was suddenly gone from her shoulder, Lockhart sending her a hearty wink before giving a push in the direction of her desk. Ariel returned the gesture by giving him a look her father would have been proud of, and settled into her seat beside Damon. She wanted to become one with the chair at this point.

 _Well, at least if this Lockhart bloke likes me because I’m famous, I’ll have a leg up in his class,_ Ariel thought.

“Now, onto more important things,” Lockhart picked up a book sitting on Marietta Edgecombe’s desk titled _Travels with Trolls. “Me.”_

Damon and Ariel shared a look, both of them hiding their mouths behind their hands as they leaned on forward on their elbows. Lockhart still hadn’t done anything impressive, save talking about how apparently impressive _he_ was.

“Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, _Honorary_ Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award, but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!" He waited for them to laugh.

A few people smiled weakly. Ariel was not one of them. If she heard the word _smile_ one more time, she was quite sure her magic would light something on fire.

"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books — well done.” Lockhart clapped his hands in mock applause, “I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about — just to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in…”

Ariel’s stomach dropped to her feet. Surely he couldn’t have expected them to read them through _already?_ Weren’t textbooks supposed to be used throughout the _year?_ She sent a panicked looked to Damon as Lockhart began to hand out sheets of parchment. He shrugged, looking rather bored instead of horrified by this. 

Lockhart flashed her a nauseating smile as he handed Ariel her parchment. She pretended not to see it.

 _What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favorite color?_ the first line read.

Ariel stared at the question, wondering if this was some kind of joke. Surely it was charmed and any second now, it would change into a question about Defensive magic. _Surely_ Lockhart had to be kidding.

It didn’t. Ariel was practically burning a hole into her paper with the force of her gaze. Glancing back to Damon, she found that his mouth was hanging open in a look of blatant disbelief. If her father saw this, he’d have had had a hippogriff by now.

 _Next question, then,_ Ariel took a deep breath and went on.

_What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s secret ambition?_

She tapped her foot in growing annoyance, quickly skipping that one as well and moving on to the next question.

_What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?_

Well, she definitely had an answer for _that_ one. Ariel quickly scribbled, _Actually being hired at Hogwarts as a professor,_ down, smirking at it. Damon raised an eyebrow when she let out a quiet snort of amusement, but she shook her head at him and went on

_When is Gilderoy Lockhart’s birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?_

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Ariel said aloud.

Lockhart, who had been strolling the aisles between the desks stopped to look at her, as well as the rest of the class. The girls in the room looked as though she’d cursed or something.

“Forgotten something, Miss Potter?” Lockhart grinned knowingly, “I know, there’s a lot of me to take in, but luckily for you, there’s fifty-four questions. I’m sure one or two questions left unanswered won’t hurt your score by much.”

“Sir,” Ariel said in a _very_ forced and polite voice, “I was under the impression the test would be about the dark creatures in the textbooks.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, looking around the room as everyone’s eyes landed on him, “Isn’t it?”

She raised one right back, clearing her throat as she read question fourteen from the parchment, _“What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favorite getaway spot, and why?”_

Several students laughed at that, mainly the Gryffindors. Some of the Slytherins were smirking, but most of them just rolled their eyes, at Lockhart or her, Ariel didn’t know. Damon seemed like he was fighting the urge to laugh.

“Well, getting to know your professor can’t hurt, can it?” Lockhart gave a nervous chuckle, eyes flitting about the room as though his audience was slowly diminishing even though no one had moved, “I did ask you all to buy my autobiography, after all. It’s important to know what makes a great man like myself, well, _great.”_

Oh no he wasn’t. Ariel wasn’t about to get a failing grade on the first quiz of the term in Defense simply because she didn’t know Gilderoy bloody Lockhart’s _favorite color._

“I don’t know Professor McGonagall’s favorite vacationing spot.” Cormac McLaggen called loudly from the front of the room. Normally, Ariel found him revolting, but at the sight of Lockhart beginning to look flustered, she giggled.

“Oh come on guys, _some_ of these questions are relevant.” Damon gave a sly smile as everyone turned to look at him, “For example, we all know that Professor Snape’s favorite color is _black.”_

The laughter grew, and Lockhart's face went as red as tomato. He tugged at his collar, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Some of the girls had begun to join in, save a handful. Katie and Sally’s heads were whipping back and forth between Ariel and Damon, sending them death threats with their eyes, and offering their sympathy when they looked back up at Lockhart.

“Well, it seems that Miss Katie Bell read,” He picked up her parchment, which Ariel could already see was halfway finished, “perfect score so far, it seems. Tell me, Miss Potter, did you manage to answer any of the questions so far?”

“Only the opinionated ones, sir.” Ariel sighed as Lockhart’s eyes swept over Katie’s paper.

“Well, then I do believe the fair thing to do is to let those who read thoroughly finish.” Lockhart seemed to compose himself then, obviously reassured that at least _one_ of the students was an adoring fan.

She slouched in her seat, seething. This wasn’t _fair._ The class wasn’t called the Gilderoy-Lockhart Experience — he was supposed to be teaching them _defensive magic._

“Alright then!” Lockhart called from the front of the room twenty minutes later, “Pass your papers to the front of the room and we’ll get started!” He shifted through them once they’d been collected, looking them offering and shaking his head, “Tut tut, none of you seemed to recall that my favorite color was _lilac.”_

 _How will I ever make it as a great witch,_ Ariel wondered to herself as he set the papers atop of his desk, _Not knowing the man’s favorite color means I’m doomed for a half-life, I suppose._

She and Damon shared another look, something they seemed to be doing a lot of today, though he seemed far more indifferent to the situation than she was — but then again, he had never been one to put much worth into grades. Damon had the infuriating talent of pulling off good marks without putting in much effort.

“Now, I must ask that all of you remain calm.” Lockhart began in a low voice, levitating a rather large cage covered in a cloth that was the same color as his robes. A small part of Ariel wondered if he’d coordinated it that way. Probably.

Unable to help herself, Ariel leaned forward to see around the piles of books on desks and heads, holding her breath as Lockhart tore the cloth off and yelled, _“BEHOLD!”_

At first, she didn’t realize what she was looking at. Several classmates, again, mostly the boys, burst into a fit of laughter. Ariel didn’t see what was funny about the creature — it was in a glass box, making squelching noises against it. She made a face at it as Damon chuckled, recognition lighting up his blue eyes. It looked like smoke, though the more Ariel studied it, it took more of a shape to it. It seemed to have a single leg, but it was hard to tell with how far back she and Damon were.

“You laugh now,” Lockhart was saying, fluffing his robes, “but these impish varmints revel in deterring magical and non-magical folk alike!”

Ariel blinked, realization dawning on her as a smile twisted itself onto her face, “Is that a —”

“That’s a hinkypunk!” Damon called out, finishing her thought, “They’re harmless!”

“Harmless, you say?” Lockhart laughed, waving a dismissive hand at him, “These foul beasts have been known to deter many a man —”

“Aren’t they dangerous to _Muggles?”_ Terrence Higgs piped up, “After all, they have no way of knowing or defending themselves.”

“They’re more of an inconvenience.” Ariel leaned back her her seat, “They can’t actually _hurt_ you, can they?”

“They can lead you into perilous situations.” Lockhart lectured loudly over them, “I myself have taken down a couple hundred…”

Several eyebrows raised themselves while nearly all the girls swooned.

“It looks like a cloud.” McLaggen said in a bored sort of voice.

“Right,” Lockhart said tapping his wand on the glass box, the _click_ of the lock silencing the room far better than he’d been able to, “then let's see what _you_ make of them!”

It was absolute pandemonium. The hinkypunk, which Ariel quickly recalled could spit _fireballs_ if provoked _,_ flew from its glass prison, letting out a high pitched whistling sound that made them all cover their ears. Most of the students, mainly the Slytherins, dove under their desks, including Damon.

“He’s mad!” Ariel said, bewildered, as the hinkypunk, _clearly unhappy,_ dove at the Carrow sisters, eliciting a shriek from the pair of them.

“Come on, someone capture it!” Lockhart shouted, “Don’t be shy!” He rolled up his sleeves, pointing his wand at the hinkypunk and shouted, _“Flipendo!”_

A beam of blue light shot out the end of his wand, shooting right through the hinkypunk. It had no effect on it whatsoever, and that was when it _really_ seemed to kick off. It darted at Lockhart, who let out a rather unattractive scream, and ducked.

 _“Do_ something!” Ariel yelled at him.

“Well, Miss Potter, I believe I’ll leave that to you!” Lockhart said in a fast voice, to her horror.

There was a mad rush towards the door then as Damon emerged from his haven under the desk, Ariel standing in the middle of the aisle with her wand at the ready. The hinkypunk had begun spitting fireballs at Lockhart, who quickly yelped a _“Class dismissed!”_ and ran from the room.

 _“Aguamenti!”_ Damon shouted, water meeting the fireball with a loud hiss.

It froze midair then, and if the thing had eyes, Ariel was pretty sure it’d be looking right at her. The room had been completely vacated, Lockhart long gone.

“What do we do?” Damon whispered, slowly creeping up behind her, “We’ve no clue how to catch a hinkypunk! He didn’t tell us anything! That Stunner he used didn’t work!”

She thought, racking her mind as the hinkypunk began to make strange, high pitched gurgling noises. It was floating nearer and nearer to them as the dropped to the ground behind the desks. Ariel desperately hoped that another professor would walk in, but Lockhart had dismissed class several minutes early. Her father had a class now, and he was all the way in the dungeons… McGonagall was upstairs… they couldn’t risk letting it out of the classroom.

 _Patience,_ Tom had told her, _If you wait until the proper moment, any spell will be twice, maybe even three times as powerful._

Lockhart had used a Stunner, obviously believing it would work. But a hinkypunk wasn’t something corporeal… it was a type of spirit. Perhaps if the Stunner had more of a kick to it…

Ariel leaped to her feet, the hinkypunk closer and shooting fireballs rapid fire. Damon’s wand was squirting a continuous stream of water for protective. The spell on her lips, she peered down at the wand in her hand, the tip glowing blue, but didn’t cast just yet. Instead, Ariel pointed it at the hinkypunk, her wand vibrating harder and harder until the tip turned a reddish-purple —

 _“Flipendo!”_ Ariel shouted, mixture of red and purple flying straight into the floating form. It let out a screech, like nails against a chalkboard, and disappeared in a rather anticlimactic puff of smoke.

She blinked in shock, simply standing there for a moment as Damon emerged from behind the desk. The floor had turned into a lake and some of the desks were singed.

 _“Whoa.”_ Damon breathed, putting a hand on her shoulder, “Did Snape show you that?”

“No I…” Ariel shook her head, coughing at the smoke, “Read it. Neat, huh?”

“Very.” He looked impressed.

They stared at a small fire that had started atop a desk. It seemed that someone’s copy of _Travels with Trolls_ was now aflame. Damon cleared his throat, tucking his wand back into his robes.

“Should we tell someone?” He asked, his tone insinuating that the situation might be amusing if Lockhart hadn’t abandoned them to deal with a murderous cumulonimbus.

“No,” Ariel sighed, grabbing his hand as she stomped towards the door, “we have an autobiography to read.”

“You’d better tell your father about this.” Damon gave one last uneasy look at the classroom, “Because if _this_ is what we’re dealing with all semester, I’m transferring to Durmstrang.”

* * *

After a single day of classes, Harry found himself with a talking shadow by the name of Colin Creevey, and a creepy celebrity by the name of Gilderoy Lockhart. He desperately wanted to try and forget the Defense lesson, between Lockhart himself and those vicious pixies, but after reading the name _Gilderoy Lockhart_ fifteen times on the test he’d handed out, the name had seared itself into Harry’s mind against his will.

Malfoy had been more than happy to help spread the word that Harry was apparently Lockhart’s new sidekick and would be happy to hand out autographs, just like his newfound mentor. Harry had nearly Hexed him into a wall once Defense had let out, Ron at his side and ready to jump in, but Hermione had pried them both away and dragged them out to see Hagrid so they could calm down.

Colin had found them again just before dinner with his camera. Normally, Harry would have sat at the Gryffindor table, where the majority of his friends and sister were, but tonight, he didn’t think he could handle any more talk of fame or admirers or _anything_ remotely Lockhart-related. His hands were still covered in bites and red scratches that Hermione told him Madam Pomfrey should take a look at.

“Lockhart tried to kill us today.” Ron said, almost casually as Harry slid into the seat next to his sister. They were all sitting at the Slytherin table instead, all of them a bit disheveled, except Hermione, who was still radiating pride after Lockhart had awarded her points for getting a perfect score in class.

“Cornish pixies are hardly a threat.” Hermione said haughtily, “Really Ronald, you’re exaggerating.” She turned to Damon and Ariel, “He’s been saying this all afternoon.”

“Good to know we weren’t the only ones.” Damon snorted.

“He let the cornish pixies out on you too?” Ron asked, eyes widening.

“Hinkypunk.” Ariel said, though it sounded more like a curse, “I failed that stupid test of his, too.”

“We _all_ did.” Harry snorted, “Except Hermione.”

“That’s because she fancies him.” She rolled her eyes, letting the soup on her spoon drip back into her bowl. She’d had yet to eat any of it, unlike Ron and Damon, who were already on their third helping.

“I do not!” Hermione said, blushing, “I just… he’s someone to admire for all his achievements, that’s all.”

“Yeah?” Ariel reached across the table and grabbed her timetable, “Then why are there little hearts drawn around Defense?”

“Lockhart made us round up cornish pixies.” Harry said quickly, not having the patience to deal with any kind of bickering at the moment.

“At least cornish pixies don’t throw bloody fireballs.” Damon muttered, glancing up at Ariel as if he were expecting a back up, but she said nothing.

Harry looked at his sister as Ron and Hermione begin bickering over Lockhart’s maddening teaching methods. She looked tired, her skin a bit paler than usual. She was mixing her spoon around her bowl, black eyes lowered to the table.

“You alright?” Harry asked, giving her a nudge.

The ends of her lips turned a bit, though her eyes didn’t flicker up to his face, “Fine. I’m just angry about Defense, is all.”

“I told her to tell Snape.” Damon said, leering towards her, “I’d love to see the look on his face if he knew someone had tried to ask about _color preference_ as a Defense position. He’s been after that job for _years!”_

Seeing Snape a week prior had ignited something in him that Harry just couldn’t shake. It was like… like the Stone last year, though perhaps not so much of the dread that had hung over his head. Snape was like this brand new mystery. He’d _hated_ their father… had hated Harry because of it, but loved Ariel and had been friends with their mother.

Snape was complicated, but Harry’s one question was _why? Why_ had he hated James? Had his father done something to him? And what of their mother? It was so hard to imagine her, kind and beautiful and popular, friends with someone as antisocial and nasty as _Snape._ Had she seen what Ariel saw in him? What Harry had just a glimpse of when he’d apologized?

And then, with another thought, Harry felt a sly smirk spread across his face.

“How _is_ your dad?” He asked casually, all of his attention focused on his sister.

Ariel gave him a strange look, “He’s fine. Why?”

Harry shrugged, “Just curious. I’ve been wanting to speak to him.”

Now all of them were looking at him as though he’d sprouted tentacles and a second head.

“About _what?”_ Ariel asked, dropping her spoon into the bowl.

“About Dad.” Harry said, very nonchalantly.

She winced, like he’d shouted the words, “Harry… that’s not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Why not?” Ron repeated, goggling, “Because he hated your dad, mate! Why would you _ask him_ about it?”

“Well, _she_ won’t talk about it.” Harry jerked his head in Ariel’s direction, “And I think I have a right to know, don’t you?”

“Harry…” His sister rubbed at her face, “It doesn’t matter anymore. My father apologized, it’s over. _Please_ don’t go asking him about it. You’ll give him an aneurysm, or worse, disturb the peace.”

 _“You_ obviously know more, or you’d want to know like me.” He ventured, his face daring her to object.

“They were rivals, Harry. Nothing more. They just couldn’t stand in other in school.”

“And Mum?” Harry asked, watching her carefully. Some of the surrounding students had gone quiet, as though they were listening in.

Ariel had noticed too, her face darkening, “Leave it alone, Harry.”

“It was just a —”

“You know we can’t talk about this!” She hissed, “Just… let it alone, alright? Please?”

He was frowning now, feeling a bit hurt. Ariel went back to glaring at her soup. Harry couldn’t help but bristle, wondering why she felt the need to shut him down every time he tried to breach the subject. Snape had finally told him, hadn’t he? Just because he was _Ariel’s_ adoptive father didn’t mean Harry had no right to knowing as much as she probably did…

“Uh oh.” Ron groaned before Harry could retort, “Colin’s coming back over.”

Harry immediately stood, tapping Ariel on the shoulder, “We should go.”

“Why?” She asked, confused, “Who’s Colin?”

“Our biggest fan.” He rolled his eyes, “He has a camera.”

That was all she needed to hear apparently, for she stood and the two of them booked it to the exit. Harry had tried to be polite to Colin, but in his current frame of mind, he didn’t think he had the patience to listen to him anymore. He could only imagine how Ariel would react. She wouldn’t talk to Harry… why should she talk to _Colin?_

And that was the thought that changed everything.

“I’m going down the dungeons.” Ariel said once they were outside the Great Hall, “I’m exhausted.”

“I’ll walk you down.” Harry said, the threads of something spinning and weaving in his head.

She looked surprised, but didn’t object, and they took their leave.

Harry had a plan, and a right good one that he was planning on seeing through.

* * *

When Severus was finally able to escape to the haven that was his quarters, it was much later than he’d hoped. After a day of dealing with yet another wizard who thought _sequins_ should be allowed on robes meant that he needed at _least_ two glasses of firewhiskey before he even _attempted_ to try and sleep. Not to mention the two sixth year Gryffindors that had successfully exploded their cauldrons during class and the growing migraine that had been prying at his temple all day. He snarled under his breath as he billowed down to the dungeons, deducting five points from a group of Ravenclaws to try and put himself in higher spirits.

An unexpected sight met him as he passed by the Slytherin dormitories and down to his quarters, one that made him screech to a halt and whirl around.

It was Potter — seemingly _returning_ from the other direction.

Severus’ head whipped back and forth between the retreating mess of Potter-hair and the darkness that hid his refuge.

“Where are you _going?”_ He called after him, his voice short of a snarl.

Potter turned around, those heart wrenching green eyes widening in surprise, “Oh, hello, sir. I didn’t see you.”

Like hell he hadn’t. There was a knowing gleam in his eyes that seemed to dance around him. Severus stared at him, nostrils flaring. Potter simply blinked back at him.

“I… was walking with Ariel.” The boy finally said after a long, uncomfortable pause, “She said she was spending the night in your quarters.”

Now it was Severus’ turn to blink. Already? He was sure the girl would want to spent at least the first week in Gryffindor Tower.

“I see.” Severus replied in a heavy voice, “On to your dormitory then, Mr Potter. I won’t have you losing points to Filch’s cat so early into term.”

“Yes, sir.” The eyes glimmered in some mischievous way that made Severus’ brain seem to enter a pre fight or flight mode. It was like… the boy _knew_ something he didn’t. Like he knew that the encounter was odd and he was _trying_ to draw it out for as long as possible.

“It’s good to see you, sir.” Potter added before he bounced away, robes making an audible swishing sound as he flew down the hall.

_Why the little…_

Severus stared after him, eyes practically bulging out of his head. _It’s good to see you._ What the hell did _that_ mean? No one ever said that to him, save Dumbledore or Minerva… maybe Ariel, but he saw her practically every day. It was _never_ good to see _him._ Given, he and Potter were on… _neutral_ terms. He knew about his father… and his mother… but that didn’t mean they were happy to _see one another._ It was most definitely _not_ good to see him.

Potter was up to something, Severus decided, starting back on the track to his quarters, now a bit unnerved.

Ariel was indeed waiting for him in his rooms, huddled on the couch in front of the fireplace. She’d already changed out of her robes, like she’d been waiting for him too. The thought warmed him a bit, taking some of the heavy tension off his shoulders. At least the girl wasn't an unpleasant surprise.

“Hi.” Ariel said glumly, looking tired. There were the beginnings of small, dark circles under her eyes. Severus frowned at them.

“You look… ill.” He told her, summoning a Pepperup potion wordlessly.  

“I’m alright,” Ariel sighed. She took the potion from him, but placed it on the table without drinking it, “I’m just tired. It was a _really_ long day.”

“I know the feeling.” Severus muttered, mostly to himself, as he settled in the armchair across from her, rubbing his face.

“At least you didn’t have to sit through Lockhart.” She grumbled, “He’s horrid, Dad. Really. You should have seen the test he —”

She was interrupted by a rapping at the door. Severus’ head immediately snapped up, mentally cursing whoever it was. It had to be a student, since Dumbledore and Minerva were the only colleagues who willingly sought him out, and they always contacted him by Floo. He gave Ariel’s shoulder a sympathetic squeeze as he billowed over to the door, a murderous scowl etching itself onto his face for the student who had dared disturb him with something that was most likely inconsequential.

He was disappointed to find that it was not a student, but Lockhart, smiling that infuriating, condescending grin that made Severus want to rip off his fingernails.

“Ah, Professor Snape!” Lockhart greeted, a folded piece of parchment in his hand, “I was hoping we might have a word.”

“About what?” Severus ground out. It was taking all of his self control not to Stun the moron backwards and slam the door in his face. He reminded himself that he could handle Lockhart, but Dumbledore, on the other hand, would lecture him on proper ways to treat fellow colleagues until kingdom come.

“Ariel Potter.” He replied, lifting the parchment so that it was practically in his face, “I’ve just spoken to Professor McGonagall, who I’d of thought would be the one to handle this sort of thing, since she’s Miss Potter’s Head of House, but she was quite insistent that I speak to _you_ about the matter.”

Severus could only imagine, the old bag. Passing off the idiot to him, _knowing_ who of the two of them was most likely to snap first. Or so she thought, Severus thought with a cruel smile. Two could play at _this_ game off pass-off-the-cretin.

He leaned away from the doorway to send his daughter a look, who he was surprised to find looked angry. She was biting the inside of cheek the exact way Lily did when she was trying hard not to snap something she’d known she would end up regretting.

Severus snatched the parchment dangling in front of his face, unfolding it as Lockhart began to babble.

“I’m afraid she’s failed her very first test… she only managed to answer one question. I had a feeling she wouldn’t do well. Miss Potter had questioned the content, which was very clearly based on the reading —”

He’d stopped listening, the parchment going taut in his hands. His vision was blurring around the edges as he read every line. Severus had known the second he’d met the bumbling idiot that he was arrogant, but _this…_ using children’s education in order to feed his _ego…_

His eyes flitted down to the only questioned Ariel had answered, his lips twitching upwards, despite his growing anger.

What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart’s greatest achievement to date?

_Actually being hired at Hogwarts as a professor._

Severus almost wanted to award points for that. It was snark worthy of _his_ standards, he thought, almost proudly.

“For whatever reason, I was told to discuss it with you.” Lockhart blabbered on, “I believe she should begin diving into the material. It’s quite essential to the curriculum I’ve _conjured up,”_ He chuckled at his own joke, “but in all seriousness, I’m a bit concerned —”

He slammed the door in his face, crushing the sad excuse for a test with his fist. _This_ was why he insisted every year that Dumbledore give him the fucking Defense position. In years past, the witches and wizards who had bothered or had the courage to apply for the job were mediocre at best, the line up thinning out as rumors of the damn curse grew. They didn’t teach nearly as much as Severus would – he’d had a curriculum written for the course since the day he’d accepted the Potion’s position, but at this point, _Hagrid_ would have been better than that blithering, sequin adorned _quack_ who had _sought him out_ to tell him that his _daughter’s performance_ was _inadequate_ simply because she didn’t know the dolts favorite _color._

Ariel had seated herself back on the couch, looking dejected. Her eyes were shining in what was undoubtedly tears of frustration. Severus felt a pull towards the door, an overwhelming need to chase down Lockhart and Hex him into a wall sorely tempting him. The dungeons were dark enough for him to hide a body… and he knew it better than anyone…

Instead, he curbed his wrath and threw the parchment into the fire, watching with grim satisfaction as it was claimed by the flames.

She looked surprised at Severus’ reaction as he turned to look at her, this time, falling beside her on the couch. He really did need that firewhiskey right about now, but didn’t think it right to drink until Ariel had gone to bed. He leaned his head against the back of the couch and let his eyes close, mildly Occluding the murderous rage that burned away like acid in his chest.

“Everyone else failed that stupid test.” Ariel muttered, sounding insulted, “Harry and Ron were fuming about it at dinner. I think Hermione is one of the only ones who got a perfect score, and that’s because she fancies him like every other girl does.”

He cracked open an eye to look at her. She was leaning against the arm of the couch, knees tucked under her chin. The light from the fire cast shadows across her face, making her look even more worn.

“I would have been more upset if you’d actually answered every question.” Severus told her, “That test counts as nothing, as far as I’m concerned.”

“But if all his test are like that… my grade…”

“Lockhart is a simpleton, Ariel.” He snapped, unable to hold his tongue.

She raised both eyebrows at him, clearly taken aback by his reaction, “Did he set a hinkypunk on you too?”

“What in Merlin’s name are… _wait.”_ Severus sat up at the speed of light, his face darkening, “Why would you say that?”

“Because he did.” Ariel said, very matter-of-factly, “Lockhart just _let it loose_ in the middle of the classroom, and then he left! Damon and I had to take it down ourselves! Harry said he did the same thing to them this afternoon, except with cornish pixies.”

His blood pressure was positively skyrocketing. Hinkypunks were little more than a nuisance to the educated witch or wizard, but to a class full of _children,_ it would pose as more than a danger. The same could be said for cornish pixies, the vicious blighters.

There was no stopping the migraine after hearing about how the simpleton had decided to conduct his first lesson. Between Lockhart and the Potter boy, Severus felt as though his skull might explode.

“That wasn’t the worst off it.” He sat up straighter as Ariel continued, eyes lowered to the hands in her lap, “Lockhart makes it sound like Harry and I are going to be his star pupils or something because we’re famous. He dragged me to the front of the room and start going on about celebrity status nonsense. It was so embarrassing…”

Definitely murder. Lockhart _definitely_ had it coming. His chances of a painless death were now dwindling by the second.

“He must be good though, right?” Ariel looked up at him hopefully, “To write all those books about all the things he’s done… he’s _got_ to be as good as he says he is!”

It was hard for Severus to argue _that_ logic. Dumbledore had obviously hired Lockhart for his abilities, if for anything else. He wouldn’t have hired someone inexperienced. The curse hadn’t made him _that_ desperate, yet.

He recalled her only answer on the test and snorted quietly.

“Appearances can be deceiving.” Severus offered dryly when she gave him a questioning look, “I’m sure Professor Lockhart will… _enlighten you_ to a great many things.”

“I hope so.” Ariel sighed, still looking unhappy. Her gaze fell back to her lap for a moment before her dark eyes snapped up again, lit with curiosity.

“What is it?” He asked her cautiously.

“You don’t seem surprised that I was able to handle the hinkypunk all by myself.” She paused, “Well, Damon helped keep it off, I can’t take all the credit. But still.”

“Forgive me. I’m a bit busy trying not to plot a murder.” Severus’ eyes flickered towards the door.

“Harry, Ron and Hermione took down the pixies.” Ariel told him, “They said Neville was hanging from a chandelier.”

He nearly rolled his eyes. How was it that Longbottom managed to find himself in the worst of situations? The boy emulated bad luck.

“I’ll be speaking to him about letting you around dark creatures unsupervised.” The pain in his head throbbed violently, “But I am… _pleased_ with how you handled yourself. I’m sure you and Mr Malfoy did a well enough job, seeing as the school did not erupt into a panic. I’m sure Lockhart was grateful he didn’t have to capture the thing himself.”

“I didn’t capture it,” Ariel said, “I Stunned it. I um… well, I guess I killed it.”

“You _Stunned_ it?” Severus asked, disbelieving.

“Yeah. I heard about holding your magic before you cast a spell… that it makes it twice as strong…”

“Oh?” Severus quirked an eyebrow at her, “From whom? Mr Malfoy?”

Ariel reddened, “No… a… _book.”_

She was lying. Severus could see it as she looked away, eyes locking onto her bedroom door. But why would she lie about something so inconsequential? Ariel had done the right thing… loathed as Severus was to admit it, for she shouldn’t have been _in_ the bloody position in the first place. At least Quirrell had actually _taught._ Severus didn’t want to see her, or the boys, for that matter, education suffer. Too much depended on it. But if Gilderoy Lockhart laid so much as a finger on his daughter, Severus was going to rip it off and deliver it to Fluffy, wherever Hagrid had shipped the beast off to.

“I see.” Severus said, arching an eyebrow in a manner that let her know he was on to her.

There was a long, pregnant, silence.

“I’m tired.” She announced, almost abruptly, as she hopped off the couch, “I think I’ll turn in for the night.”

 _“Ariel.”_ Severus growled.

Her eyes widened, almost innocently, “Yes?”

“Where did you learn that tactic?” He questioned, “You certainly didn’t learn it from Quirrell or myself.”

“I… told you. I read it in a book.” She looked puzzled.

“What book?” Severus crossed his arms.

“You think I remember _every_ book I read?” Ariel shot back.

“If you were able to recall such a maneuver, you should be able to recall the literature.”

“Well, I don’t!” She snapped back, looking flustered now, “I took down a hinkypunk today… I thought you’d be proud to hear it, but I guess not.”

And then she flew from the room, slamming her bedroom door behind her.

He blinked, summoning the firewhiskey wordlessly and without a second though.

She was acting, _strange._ Ariel was acting… he didn’t have a word for it. There was something missing in those eyes, color missing for her cheeks. She hadn’t come close to him like she usually did. No head had rested upon his shoulder, no embrace. It was common for her lose her temper… but not like _that._ Not without _cause…_

 _She’s thirteen,_ said his Inner Hufflepuff.

No… that wasn’t it. Something was wrong.

* * *

In her room, Ariel scooted under the covers, lighting the tip of her wand with a quick _Lumos._ She opened Tom’s diary and began to scribble away.

 _You were right,_ she told him, not bothering with a greeting, _holding back on the Stunner worked! I took down a hinkypunk today._

 _Congratulations,_ Tom wrote back, _did you doubt me, then?_

_I don’t think doubt is the right word._

_Well, then do you promise to listen to me from now on?_

_You act as though I learned some kind of lesson._

_Didn’t you?_


	38. Sympathy for the Devil

“I want him fired.”

Dumbledore blinked back at Severus, and with an almost empathetic smile, began to shake his head, “Severus…”

“He left them _alone,”_ He snarled, slamming his fist on the Headmaster’s desk, “with a _hinkypunk._ The boy and his sidekicks were forced to round up cornish pixies all by themselves! They’re _uneducated children,_ Albus!”

“Perhaps this is how Gilderoy teaches.” Dumbledore suggested in an incredibly unconvincing tone, “It forces the children to think for themselves in a high pressure situation.”

“That is _not_ how you teach Defense!” Severus snapped, “You might as well throw them into the middle of the Forbidden Forest if you wish for them to utilize fight or flight!”

“He hasn’t done it since, from what Minerva tells me. She _also_ tells me that Ariel and Harry handled the challenge just fine.”

Severus fell into a chair, massaging his temple forcefully, “That is _besides the point,_ Albus.”

“Is it?” Dumbledore popped a lemon drop into his mouth and crunched away merrily, “I believe that Defense is about using your instincts in order to overcome a potentially dangerous situation.”

“They need to be _taught how_ to defend themselves!” Severus seethed, “Lockhart doesn’t know how to do that! If it weren’t for his rankings and literature, I would declare Hagrid a potion’s master before I considered Lockhart anything _remotely_ worthy of teaching children defensive magic. He has yet to give anything of substance, from what Ariel has told me.”

“You cannot criticize his teaching methods when your own are under scrutiny from a majority of the staff.” Dumbledore raised a silvery eyebrow at him, “Your own style of educating the children can be seen as less than affective. You’ll remember how opposed Minerva was to you when you first began?”

He nearly rolled his eyes at the memory. He could recall how the students had first complained to their Housemaster — mainly the Gryffindors, since Severus had taken the most pleasure in deducting points from them. Minerva had wanted his head on a stick. Of course, he’d grudgingly explained that his ruling through fear in a potion’s classroom was the only way to ensure that the little dunderheads didn’t blow each other up. Ruling through fear meant that his students were less likely to kill one another, and that was something that took time for her to see. Then Ariel had come along and Minerva had begun to become more accepting, backing off and instead focusing her attentions on the girl.

“The _distinct_ difference being that _my_ students, or at least, those who have more than half a brain cell, do _well.”_ Severus said, his tone daring Dumbledore to object.

He sighed instead, “Give it time, Severus. I’m sure Gilderoy’s methods will pay off in one way or another.”

“Or you could just fire him now instead of wasting our time.”

“There is no one to take his place.” Dumbledore leaned back, as though he’d been through this already. Severus didn’t doubt that Minerva had already been up to his office to debate him on the same subject. “Gilderoy was the only wizard who applied for the position.”

Severus could feel his blood pressure skyrocket at this, standing to sneer at the old man, _“Was he?”_

“I won’t give you the job, my friend.” Dumbledore removed his half moon spectacles, “I need you too much to risk losing you to the curse.”

“It’s going to take more than a curse to do me in.” He snorted.

“And what of Ariel if something were to happen to you?” The Headmaster raised an eyebrow at him, “You forget that she depends on you.”

“I don’t _forget.”_ Severus bit out, “I _worry._ Ariel and Potter need training. If you truly believe that the Dark Lord is to return some day, they need to be _prepared,_ and Lockhart's methods are detrimental.”

“But they still overcame.” Dumbledore pointed out. Severus wanted to light his robes on fire.

“They are unfairly lucky.” He muttered, crossing his arms tightly across his chest, “They have buckets of intelligence compared to that idiot. It doesn’t mean that they should be left to flounder should they find themselves in a hard pressed situation. Not to mention,” He bared his teeth, “that if either of them get _hurt_ in his class, I will _personally —”_

“I will not be witness to any of your threats.” Dumbledore wagged a chiding finger at him, “I trust that Lockhart would never consciously put Ariel and Harry, or _any_ of the children for that matter, in harm’s way.”

“That is my _point!”_ Severus shot back, “The man is a moron! He’ll endanger them without knowing any better, because _he is not a teacher!”_

“He is all I could find, Severus.” Dumbledore held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, “I can speak to him and make sure he is aware of the staff’s concerns, but I cannot fire him. You know if I could, I would teach the class myself, but with the curse…”

He wanted to smash something. Between the fucking _test_ Lockhart had shoved in his face and the man’s arrogance, Severus was itching to take his fury out on _something._ Ideally, he’d want it to be Lockhart, but for the time being, it seemed that he was forced to sit by and watch as the blithering idiot made an even bigger fool of himself and the students desperately try and decipher what the hell he was trying to accomplish. Severus could _feel_ something off about him, awarding winner author or not, something wasn't right, and when he was validated, he knew it wasn’t going to make him feel any better. It felt like an impending doom he couldn’t escape from. A doom with a blinding smile and hair that had far too many products in it and robes that made Dumbledore’s look reserved.

It was going to be an agonizingly long year.

* * *

_Reducto,_ Tom was lecturing, _you can use it as a Stunner, though it’s quite powerful. You have to be sure you have a handle on it or else it’ll backfire._

_How do I do that?_ Ariel wrote back, curling the quilt she’d brought from her room closer around herself.

She was sitting on the couch in her father’s quarters, Severus in his armchair across from her. Ariel had felt his eyes on her a couple of times throughout the evening, like he was assessing her, but had been rather quiet. She’d been careful not to sit next to him so that he couldn’t see the diary, keeping a textbook open beside her to make it seem as though she was taking notes.

_Confidence is a large factor, but the trick is not to hesitate,_ Tom said, _if you don’t cast fast enough, you’ll end up bringing the ceiling down. That happened to a girl in my year. She spent a month in detention for it._

Ariel stifled a laugh at that, shooting her father a glance to make sure he hadn’t heard her. He had a pile of papers and a pot of red ink in front of him, which meant he was grading. They were only three weeks into term and he had already assigned her year five essays and an exam on sedatives.

_So basically I have to know what I’m doing._ she wrote, _What if I were to do that stalling thing like I did with Flipendo?_

_I wouldn’t recommend it._

_Why not?_

_Let’s just say I had the same theory. It didn’t work out well._

_You tested it?_

_I did, on my bed, to be exact. I mangled it into a metal mess, to say the least. I had to sleep on a cot for an entire year._

Ariel frowned at this, _You slept on a cot at Hogwarts? They didn’t just transfigure you a new bed?_

_I wasn’t at Hogwarts,_ Tom said, the next set of words taken a minute or so to appear, like he hadn’t wanted to write back, _I was at the orphanage I grew up at the summer before seventh year. They didn’t like me there much because I was,_ the words disappeared, and then, a single word appeared, _different._

She sighed, feeling a familiar sense of empathy. Harry had spent years with people who hadn’t understood him, or _wanted_ to, for that matter. People who had given him the bare minimum. People who didn’t care if he was comfortable or happy or anything in between.

_You went back there every summer?_ asked Ariel.

_Unfortunately,_ Tom’s script materialized on the page, _I asked Headmaster Dippet on more than one occasion if I could stay the summer at school, but he said there couldn’t be any exceptions made._

_You didn’t have any family? No friends to take you in?_

_I’ve told you this already,_ She could feel the sharpness of his words, _my mother was dead. Her family was all but gone, and even then, they wouldn’t have wanted me._

_What about your father?”_

It took even longer for a reply, so much so that Ariel figured she had upset Tom, ready to scribble back an apology and give the diary a rest for the night, but it came just as she pressed the quill to the parchment.

_He was a Muggle who had no idea I existed. I would have rather stayed at the orphanage either way._

_Why?_

_He wouldn’t have wanted me. I found him after I graduated, when I realized it had been for the better._

A sense of sadness fell over her, _He wasn’t what you expected?_

_He laughed in my face and told me I was no son of his._

Her heart constricted in her chest. Ariel couldn’t fathom a parent being so cruel to their child. Even if they hadn’t wanted or known of their child…

_He sounds like a stupid Muggle,_ Ariel wrote swiftly, _He obviously didn’t deserve you._

_I’ll have to agree with the first part of that statement._

_No one deserves to be told they’re worthless, least of all you, Tom._ Ariel underlined _you_ twice.

_I appreciate that,_ He wrote back, _truly. You’ve no idea what it feels like to find someone who seems to understand me. Who doesn’t hate me._

Ariel’s throat tightened, _I don’t see how anyone could have hated you. You’re brilliant._

_Perhaps hatred is too harsh a word. Friendless would be a better term._

“Are you alright?”

Ariel looked up from her unspoken conversation, blinking a couple of times. Severus was watching her intently, something glimmering in his black eyes, like she’d somehow given him a reason to be suspicious in her silence. Her father rarely _asked_ about how she was doing – if Severus thought something was wrong, he took action. Ariel could remember countless times as a child when he’d simply hand her a potion and carry her off to bed if she felt unwell. He always knew, even without resorting to Occlumency.

Well, except for that moment. She felt just fine. They hadn’t spoken for several minutes, now.

Ariel gave him a confused look before lowering her eyes back to Tom’s fading script, “Yes.”

“You still look… _unwell.”_ Her father reached forward to feel her forehead, frowning, “You’re warm.”

“Really?” She asked, surprised, “I’m a bit tired, maybe. I don’t _feel_ sick.”

Severus made a disapproving sound in the back of his throat. He stood and stalked away, flinging open the door to his private stores that he always kept ridiculously overstocked. When she’d been younger and the dragon pox had broken out amongst the Hufflepuffs, Madam Pomfrey had all but threatened her father to fork over his own private stores that he’d kept specifically stocked for Ariel, and Ariel only.

He was still frowning, the stress lines in his forehead present, when he emerged from the stockroom with a fever reducer in his hand. Ariel quickly closed the diary, feeling terrible for abruptly ending her conversation with Tom, but she knew that her father catching her talking to him would have a far worse outcome. She wordlessly downed the potion as he handed it to her.

“Are you sleeping?” Severus asked as he knelt down in front of her, placing his hand back on her forehead. There was something oddly comforting about it that Ariel couldn’t identify, since she felt just fine.

Ariel shrugged in response.

He gave her a look, “A vocal response, if you’d be so kind.”

“Define _sleeping.”_  

The displeased look on his face deepened, “You haven’t been resting?”

_No, I’ve been up talking to Tom,_ her Conscious said automatically.

“I’ve had a couple of all nighters.” Ariel gave him instead, which wasn’t a _complete_ lie, “When I’m here I sleep better, but up in the Tower, I usually stay up with Hermione and Ron. They’re bickering keeps me awake.”

“Sacrificing your health in the process won’t help your grades.” Severus growled.

She rolled her eyes, “I’m not running myself in the ground, Dad. I probably have a little cold.”

“A little cold won’t be stay so miniscule if your body isn’t getting enough rest.”

“Last year, I sat outside in barely anything when it was snowing and below freezing outside.” Ariel pointed out, “Remember? I didn’t catch pneumonia and die then. A few less hours of sleep aren’t going to kill me.”

Severus stiffened, like the memory had flung itself at him unexpectedly. She recalled what her times outside in the snow had been caused by, and sighed, understanding his wordless reaction. It was second nature for her father to worry.

“I’ll go to bed early tonight.” Ariel promised him, giving him a quick peck on the cheek as she stood. Her father straightened himself up as well, giving her an approving nod. His black eyes seemed to lighten a bit, though they had been so since the beginning of the summer.

“You mean _right now.”_ He began to steer her towards her room as she stretched.

“It’s only eight!” She huffed, “I still have _your_ homework to read through!”

“It can wait.” Her father reached down to pick the diary off the couch where Ariel had left it, his other hand on her shoulder. Ariel leaned into him a bit, holding out her hands to receive it, when she saw his eyes narrow.

Her heart skipped a beat.

“Where did you get this?” He muttered, eyebrows scrunching together, flipping it over to look at both covers.

“Bought it in a shop at Diagon Alley.” Ariel said, reaching for it as he gave her a look she couldn’t read, “I’ve been using it as a notebook.”

“It looks ancient.” Severus commented, his eyes lingering on it.

“It has personality.” She said quickly, tucking it under her arm, “That’s why I like it.”

“Not if it falls apart at the seams.” He reached for it again, but Ariel turned away so that she was no longer within his grip. She closed her hands around it so that it was out of his sights, and once they were in her room, she made a beeline for the bathroom with it, not noticing the suspicious look that passed over Severus’ face.

She didn’t understand why her heart was beating so fast as she fell against the door, the diary clutched to her chest. If he’d opened it, he’d have seen the name on the inside and seen the name scrawled on the inside cover… would have suspected something _immediately…_

Ariel let out a deep breath, letting the diary fall into her lap. She’d been clutching it so tightly that her fingernails had left marks on the cover, but she failed to see them as she took the quill, wedged in between the pages, and began to write once more.

* * *

Snape didn’t eat.

Harry had been watching him every meal he’d bothered to show up for, which he had rarely done last year, but this year, he seemed to be making more of an effort. Many things were different about this year, but Harry wasn’t noticing the blatantly obvious changes.

Snape didn’t eat, but he _talked,_ mostly to McGonagall and sometimes to Dumbledore, but most of the time, the pair of them sat at least three seats away from Lockhart and looked at him like he was something found in Hagrid’s compost pile. Snape didn’t eat like McGonagall did, didn’t chew his food in annoyance. He simply sipped at his drink and stabbed his food with his fork, but not once did Harry see him raise anything to his mouth.

Which meant, Harry deduced, that something must be bothering him.

He wasn’t likely the most _qualified_ person to be making conclusions about Severus Snape, but since his plan had hatched inside his head, Harry had been watching him, awaiting an opportunity to strike when the iron was hot. It was proving to be more difficult to corner Snape, or to get him out of his quarters without him being there. Ariel was always there when Harry walked in, but Snape never said a word to him. It was like Harry had become some kind of ghost, which, to his great annoyance, seemed to be even _worse_ than the cruel remarks and scathing glares he’d grown accustomed to last year. Harry couldn’t find out what was bugging him, nor could he find an opportunity to dig up information about Snape and the relationship with his parents.

Of course, Harry had entertained the idea of simply just asking Ariel, but she’d repeatedly told him that she knew about as much as he did. He believed her, but wondered why she didn’t want to know about James and Lily and Snape as much as he did. Ariel just seemed to _accept_ it, after the way she’d acted last Christmas when she’d found out… how forlorn and pitiful she’d looked, all because Snape hadn’t told her he’d been friends with their mum and hated their dad.

It was very… _odd,_ to say the least, to try and picture Snape and his mum being friends, or Snape having a friend in general, really. Him being his sister’s adoptive father was already enough of a stretch, even though Harry had been introduced to Ariel’s _father_ before he’d met Professor Snape. From what Ariel had shown and told him of their mum, she’d been popular and pretty and a Gryffindor – the very House that Snape delighted taking points from. If he’d really been that close with their mum, wouldn’t he show a little more tolerance? Then again, Ariel was in Gryffindor too, and Snape still didn’t let up. Ariel never spoke about it, had never tried to understand or figure out her father’s maddening (or at least to Harry, it was maddening), behavior. 

Well, if she didn’t want to know, then Ariel didn’t have to. Harry, on the other hand, took this as an opportunity to sharpen his Slytherin skills and uncover the truth, without Snape realizing Harry was doing any uncovering purposely.

Something was bothering Snape, because he wasn’t eating, and Harry was going to get to the bottom of it.

He quickly crossed Ariel off the list of suspects, because she’d been spending every other night in his quarters. Actually, he’d barely _seen_ Ariel as of late, which she’d promised him that they would correct soon. She was always in the library or holed up in her father’s quarters, scribbling away notes or an essay or something, her reasoning being that she didn’t want to fall behind. Ariel hadn’t taken any of the _“fun”_ electives, as Ron had put it. Damon was in the same classes as Ariel, but he wasn’t scrambling nearly as much as she was. Harry had told her that she was beginning to act an awful lot like Hermione, which she particularly loathed being compared to in terms of schoolwork.

Harry could also take himself out of the running for _things that were making bothering Snape,_ because they had barely exchanged three words. Unless, of course, Snape was acting weird because Harry now knew the truth about his parents, which made want to find out _something_ of substance even more than before.

One morning at the end of September, Harry found himself sitting down next to Ariel, who was already at the Slytherin table next to Damon. Ron and Hermione were sitting across from them, arguing about the validity of a claim about McGonagall’s next exam only being a short essay. Ariel had one of Lockhart’s books propped open, and Damon seemed to be annoyed with her lack of focus on him.

“I don’t know why you bother.” Damon was grumbling, “It’s not like we’re going to learn anything useful from those books.”

“He _does_ talk about _how_ he defeated all these vampires.” Ariel mumbled, her eyes glued to the page, “He just doesn’t teach us anything in class.”

“Well, he can’t spoon feed us, now can he?” Hermione broke away from her debate with Ron and came to Lockhart’s aid, who was scowling down at his eggs, looking like Damon did. Harry was momentarily amused that both girls were oblivious to their reactions.

“He’s an arse.” Harry rolled his eyes, “All he does is talk about _himself._ How’re we supposed to learn about Defensive magic when he won’t show us anything?”

“You don’t.” Ariel sulked, leaning heavily on her elbow. The plate in front of her seemed untouched, though it was full of food.

“He’s a _brilliant_ teacher!” Hermione snapped, her bushy hair bouncing about her shoulders, “He’s got more experience than any Defense teacher this school has ever seen! We’re lucky to have him!”

“Your opinion doesn’t count.” Ron shot back, shoving a forkful of eggs to his mouth, causing Hermione to make a face, “You fancy him too much.”

“I do _not_ fancy him!” She said in a loud voice, “I… I just… I _admire_ him... _greatly.”_

“You get heart eyes every time you see him.” Ariel said, waving a dismissive hand at her, “He’s good looking and famous and _apparently,_ talented.”

“His _looks_ have _nothing –”_

“You drool in class sometimes, Mione.” Harry said, not unkindly.

Damon and Ron snorted at this, and Hermione went beet red. Ariel smirked and began to wordlessly mouth the text she was reading.

“You’re like Ginny when she first met Harry.” Ron snickered, “She couldn’t be within his sights without getting all flustered. Gods, I’d say you’re _worse_ than Ginny was!”

“Well, it seems that the Precious Potters _do_ have their fans.” A haughty, annoying voice said from Harry’s left, making his muscles tense automatically, “Or rather, _secret admirers.”_

Ariel simply rolled her eyes, acting as though Malfoy wasn't getting under her skin as much as he was Harry’s. He, however, turned to send his least favorite Slytherin a glare.

“Precious Potter, always getting the star treatment.” He went on, gaining the attention of the rest of the table, “The three of you can all share the spotlight together, it seems, though I think _yours_ will be short lived.” He was looking directly at Harry now.

Ron and Ariel’s eyes snapped up dangerously, his sister’s dark ones flashing like lightning.

“Is that a _threat?”_ She hissed at him, tensed to spring up from her seat.

Malfoy snorted, “It really is pathetic how you don’t let your _wittle_ _brother_ fend for himself.”

“That’s enough, Draco.” Damon stood up and leaned forward, giving him a look that Harry had a feeling held more than just a warning. His eyes weren’t sharp and threatening, but guarded, like something hidden beneath deep waters.

To everyone’s surprise, Malfoy seemed to shrink away, but he kept going, his grey eyes sweeping back to Harry, “We’ll see how much everyone likes famous Harry Potter when he’s no longer on the Quidditch team. It’s the only thing you have going for yourself, really.”

They all blinked at him, except Harry, who felt his blood boil at his words. Malfoy could talk about how worthless his celebrity status and academic achievements were, but Quidditch was the one thing Harry truly prided himself him, save being a Potter, perhaps. Quidditch allowed him to escape – it was the one thing he was the _best_ at.

“What’re you playing at?” green eyes narrowed at the sneering face that was slowly beginning to grin in triumph, his goal of riling Harry up accomplished, “I’m still Seeker.”

“Not for long.” Malfoy said, “Father’s just bought the entire team brand new Nimbus 2001’s –”

“He _what?”_ Damon bleated loudly. Ariel and Harry turned to look at him in disbelief, while Ron and Hermione looked unimpressed and doubtful.

“— and I plan on trying out as Slytherin’s newest Seeker.” Malfoy finished, a cold smile on his face, arms crossed tightly across his chest, “We’ll see if Flint really values you then, Potter.”

“You’re going to _bribe_ your way onto the team?” Harry demanded, giving a humorless laugh, “That doesn’t show that you’re worth anything — your _daddy’s_ paying your way on!”

“Is that so?” His grey eyes glittered, “At least I _have_ a father, Potter. Unlike you, who grew up with those filthy Muggles. I’ve had _years_ of training on a broom. Talent can only get you so far, you know.”

“Snape personally saw to putting Harry on the team.” Ariel said in a cool voice, keeping her gaze level with Draco’s, “If you think _he_ can be bought, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“We’ll see.” Malfoy snorted, glancing up at Snape at the High Table. Harry turned to look as well, finding that Snape was watching them all with a look that made him shudder. Ariel didn’t bother to turn, the veins in her hands strained as she slammed her textbook closed, no doubt furious at the comment about their father.

With a wave of his wand, Malfoy pointed it at Harry’s still half full glass of pumpkin juice, and before any of them could do anything, it fell straight into Harry’s lap, soaking his robes. He laughed as he walked away, Crabbe and Goyle joining him on his flanks, and before Harry could grab his wand to Hex his turned back, they were gone.

“Did you know?” Ariel demanded, whipping her head to look at Damon angrily.

Hermione cast a quick _Scourgify_ at Harry, who thanked her with a nod. Harry didn’t trust himself to speak right now. He was far too angry. And fearful. He couldn’t imagine Flint saying no to _brand new Nimbus’ 2001’s._ He’d gone nuts when Harry had walked into his first practice with a Nimbus 2000… and if the _whole team_ could get new brooms free of charge…

“Of course not!” Damon looked deeply offended, looking at the trio across from him wildly, “I would have said something sooner if I had! I’d no idea Draco had even _wanted_ to join the team! I mean… he’s as big a Quidditch nut as anyone but I didn’t know he wanted to _buy_ his way onto it! I had mentioned trying out myself before term started to him, I think, to Aunt Narcissa —”

_“You’re_ trying out too?” Harry asked, raising an incredulous eyebrow at him, “When were you planning on telling us?”

“I wasn’t sure.” His pale cheeks went pink. “Flint told me they needed a new Keeper… I thought I’d have a go at it, but I won’t do it if _Lucius_ has any say in it!”

“Don’t worry about it.” Harry reassured him, sighing, “You should. It’d be nice to have a friend on the team.”

“My father won’t let him on.” Ariel said fiercely, “Dad knows how talented you are, Harry. He won’t let that go for a bunch of fancy brooms.”

“But what’s better?” He asked, something sinking deep inside him, “A team full of players that’ll have better skills, or one player with more skill than anyone else on the team? It’s not like Quidditch is Seeker versus Seeker!”

“The Seeker is the most important!” Ariel argued, “If you catch that Snitch, you win the bloody game automatically! C’mon, Harry, you _know_ this!”

“Talk to him and make sure if you’re worried.” Damon said, giving another uneasy glance up to the professor’s, and then, turned back to his sister, “Has he mentioned speaking to Lucius recently?”

She shook her head, “No… but I doubt he would tell me if he did. He doesn’t tell me things like that.” Ariel sighed, giving Harry’s arm a sympathetic squeeze before leaning her head on his shoulder, “Don’t listen to him, Harry. If you want, I’ll talk to my father later. He wouldn’t do that to you.”

Would he? Harry didn’t know anymore. Snape was about as predictable as the Snitch itself. He’d no idea what he’d do, what mood he’d be entertaining. Hell, Harry didn’t even know what Snape _thought_ of him anymore. The apology last March had been genuine, but being in Snape’s neutral area was… frustrating, to say the least, especially if his place on Slytherin’s team was in jeopardy because of _Malfoy._

“Uh oh.” Ron’s blue eyes widened, watching something from across the room, “Colin Creevey, three o’clock. And he’s got that camera!”

“That’s our cue.” Harry sprang up quickly, as well as Ariel, who had apparently been continually cornered in the Gryffindor common room by the overly enthusiastic first year. She grabbed his hand, both of them balancing their textbooks in their others, and took off just as Ron called Colin over in an attempt to give them an escape route.

* * *

Severus lingered behind the corner that led to the portrait of the Fat Lady, wondering how it had come to this. He hadn’t even been this paranoid _last_ year, and at least then, he’d had a reason to be suspicious. In that moment, Severus felt every as bit idiotic as he ever had, wondering why in Merlin’s name he thought he needed to follow Ariel, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t _telling him something._

_“I promise,”_ She had said, her eyes light and free and hopeful. He’d believed her in that moment, because somehow, the nightmare with the Dark Lord and Quirrell had healed them. Severus had wanted to believe her more than anything, _had,_ actually. Ariel knew just how badly she’d scared him when she’d run after Potter, how his insides had curled and how that voice had shrieked in defeat, how he _hadn’t_ kept her safe from harm, that the Dark Lord had somehow _entered the school —_

Severus still blamed himself, for if he hadn’t upset the boy, Ariel would have willingly come to him, and Potter would have never been up by the third floor corridor by himself…

However, the other night, when he’d watched Ariel do her homework in that notebook, there had been any unsettling concentration in her eyes that had almost made her look _angry._ He’d felt her looking up to peer at him from time to time, pretending not to notice, but then she’d stopped, and when Severus had finally lifted his eyes, something dreadful had begun to pool within him. Ariel’s… _strangeness,_ however hard he tried to brush it off, was eating away at him. He just had to make sure she was alright. Just that, only that, and he could sleep easier tonight.

There was no Dark Lord now, Severus had to remind himself as he waited, Disillusioned.

Weasley and Granger climbed out, arguing about something it seemed, but he didn’t hear them, waiting for Ariel to follow after them.

She had Defense at noon, and Severus just so happened to have that time off, which meant he could spy on her there to see if Lockhart was the issue. Ariel complained to him daily about the half wit, but never told him anything that Severus himself already didn’t know. It was the only thing he could think of that could explain her odd behavior, however inconsistent and inconsequential it had been.

Ariel emerged a minute or so after, rubbing her eyes tiredly. Severus frowned at that, almost un-Disillusioning himself to check to see if her fever had returned, but he stayed put and watched as she shoved her books into her satchel and began to strut down the stairs. He followed her all the way down to the Defense classroom silently, easily keeping up with her short legs. Severus took the opportunity to study her, finding that she had that twitchy way of walking that he had when he had been her age. Maybe not as pronounced, but it was definitely there, though it came off as more of an impatience, like she was trying to hardest to get somewhere on time rather than an oddity.

Lockhart was nowhere to be found when they entered the room. Severus, still hidden from sight, saw that there was a covered cage at the front of the room that several Gryffindors had surrounded. Ariel had frozen in the doorway at the sight, nearly sending Severus colliding into her.

“Oh _no.”_ Ariel groaned as she slid into the seat beside Bellatrix’s brat.

“I thought we were in the clear after the hinkypunk set the room on fire.” He muttered back, “There are still burn marks on some of the desks.”

Severus nearly snorted as Lockhart took his place at the front of the class. He drowned out his lecture, if it could even be considered that. Instead, he watched as Ariel pulled a notebook out of her satchel and began to write. It was the same one she’d grabbed from him the night before. Severus raised an eyebrow, wondering if she was actually taking notes, or if she was simply trying to pass the time under class concluded. He didn’t really blame her if it was the latter, for Lockhart’s speech held nothing of substance.

“... And _now,”_ Lockhart said in a loud, obnoxious voice that tore Severus from his inner musings, “I present…”

He threw the cloth off the cage, revealing a grubby, short thing with red eyes what snarled and bared its teeth at the wide-eyed children.

It was a Red Cap. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, finding the creature suitable for the third year curriculum, but not confident in Lockhart’s abilities to actually teach anything about them, based on the hinkypunk incident. He really needed to speak to Dumbledore about restricting the moron’s use of dark creatures in a classroom setting. _Hagrid_ was more reliable than Lockhart was when it came to taming beasts.

“Now,” Lockhart flashed that sickening smile, “who would like to have a go?”

No, he wasn’t serious. He _couldn’t_ be. Dumbledore had fucking _talked to him._ He _must_ have! Dumbledore cared about the little dunderheads, and _this_ was most certainly _not_ a safe way to teach _children –_

The class went silent. Severus watched as Ariel and Bellatrix’s brat shared a worried look, one that clearly said that they had been in this situation before.

“Sir?” Ariel raised her hand high in the air, “Perhaps we… _shouldn’t.”_

_Good girl,_ Severus thought, stifling the urge to run his hand through her hair affectionately.

“Ah, where is your sense of Gryffindor bravery, Miss Potter?” Lockhart gave a mocking sigh, wagging his finger, as though she’d somehow insulted him, “In fact, why don’t _you_ give it a try?”

Severus had been staring intently at the girl, one arm cradled across his chest, the other cupping his chin, as though he were in deep thought. At Lockhart’s words, however, his hands fell at his side and he flung knives at the man with his eyes.

_Over my dead fucking body,_ he answered, nonverbally. His hand twitched for his wand.

“Sir?” Ariel asked, looking nervous. Her eyes flitted worriedly to the Red Cap, who had begun to gnaw away at the bars.

“You and Mr Malfoy handled that hinkypunk beautifully.” Lockhart rambled, already making his way over to the cage, “Surely if you could take on a Dark Lord as an infant, you’re more than capable of showing the class how to handle something far less dangerous.”

Idiot idiot _IDIOT –_

Severus gnashed his teeth together, watching as the girl paled visibly. Several of the little cretins laughed, their eyes dancing in amusement as his daughter shakily stood, holding her wand out in front of her.

_Sit back DOWN,_ he thought in her direction. Bellatrix’s brat looked more concerned that she did. From under the table, Severus saw him draw his own wand and hop into the seat Ariel had just stood from, a serious look in his eyes.

Severus tensed, waiting for the opportune moment to Disillusion himself and make Lockhart look like a bigger imbecile than he already was. He hadn’t even _told_ the girl how the fuck she was to handle the Red Cap, but it seemed that Ariel had something in mind – not that _she’d_ be the one taking it down, if Severus had anything to do with it.

Ariel nodded at him, a single jerk that made Lockhart’s broad smile lessen a bit, and with the wave of his hand the cage opened.

_“REDUCTO!”_ Ariel shouted.

Severus heart nearly fell out of his chest, waiting for the curse to rebound and send her flying back. There was a cushioning charm on his lips as he canceled the Disillusionment on himself, making Bellatrix’s son yelp in surprise.

Severus rushed forward, wand pointed at the girl, when the unexpected happened.

A ray of blue light shot out from the end of Ariel’s wand instead of shooting out from the back and Stunning her. It hit the red cap, who let out a shriek. Lockhart dove out of the way as the thing went flying back, crashing into the desk that sat in the front of the room with a deafening crash and an explosion of wood so loud that Severus could practically hear each splinter.

Ariel’s wand fell out of her hands, her dark eyes glossy, like she wasn’t seeing the sight before her. Lockhart had dived out of the way, the rest of the students halfway hidden under their desks. There was a low murmur as Severus stepped around the desks, shoving Ariel behind him as he inspected the rubble.

The red cap was most definitely dead. He couldn’t make out any part of it, save the legs. The rest of it was buried underneath the remnants of the desk.

“I… well, Professor Snape!” Lockhart pretended to look pleased as he flustered, “Did… she performed… I taught her only moments ago!”

“Get,” He flung a cracking look of hatred at him, hoping he felt it and the fear that should struck him through his heart, _“out.”_

The class scattered like roaches when exposed to light, and Lockhart himself flew threw the door and into his office. His robes billowed behind him, making a flapping sound that made it sound like he was about to take flight.

“I… I didn’t mean to kill it.” Ariel’s voice shook as Severus turned back to her, “I… I thought it would only knock it unconscious…”

“Where did you learn that curse?” Severus hissed.

“I…” Her eyes left his face to look at the crumpled Red Cap that lay within the ruins, “I…”

“Ariel.” He grabbed her chin, trying to get her attention back to him, “That is a _fifth year curse._ Who told you how to cast it?”

“No one.” Ariel lied, so blatantly, so unconcealed, “I read it.”

Severus tightened his grip, “What is the matter with you? You can’t expect me to believe that you just performed that curse perfectly based on simply _reading_ it.”

“I didn’t know it would kill it.” She whispered, “He… it said that it was only a Stunner.”

_“Who?”_ His nostrils flared, his eyes landing on Bellatrix’s brat, who had stayed behind, “Was it you, boy?”

“No!” Ariel said, finally seemingly to fully come back to herself, “No, Dad, it wasn’t him, I swear it!”

“Then _who?”_ Severus felt a wave of fury when she turned away from him, biting her lip. He looked back to the boy, who looked annoyingly worried, like he was watching a puppy being kicked or something. “Leave us.” He snapped at him, waiting until the boy had slowly back out of the room and shut the door behind him.

The girl’s eyes held an answer, and Severus felt his suspicions confirmed. 

* * *

“Tell me.” Her father commanded in a much softer voice, “You’ve been displaying feats of magic that you shouldn’t know yet, and I want to know who you’re talking to.”

Ariel opened her mouth to tell him about Tom and his lessons and the diary, to tell him about how he was helping her. She hadn’t wanted to keep a secret, knowing it would worry him and that he would take poor Tom away, but now… it was making him _worry._

The words never made it out, for as Ariel felt them on the tip of her tongue, she found that

she

_couldn’t._

It was like something was blocking her throat. It resembled the ache when she was trying to fight back the urge to cry, but not as pronounced, for it didn’t make her cry out or make her eyes prick. If anything, a foreign sense of _calm_ fell over her, and her panic and guilt and need to tell Severus about the diary was suddenly gone.

For a moment, Ariel simply looked back at him blankly as her father’s face flashed with a variety of different emotions. There was worry, and then confusion at her lack of a response, and then –

“Fine.” Her father snarled, “If you don’t want to tell me, then you’ll be under my watch until you decide to be trustworthy.”

Something akin to apprehension crept over her shoulders as he dragged her from the room, and then, there was a triumph that wasn’t her own.

* * *

“Father says the brooms will be here by the end of the week.” Malfoy’s voice floated over to where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were working, “I’m sure that once Flint sees them, he’ll know he’s getting _much_ more than just an exceptional Seeker.”

“Ignore him, mate.” Ron said as Harry stabbed his cutting knife into the table.

“I’m going to dump my potion over his head.” Harry said flatly.

“Please don’t,” Hermione sighed in a bothered voice, “I’ve worked very hard on it, you know. Professor Snape seems to be in a horrid mood, too. I wouldn’t dare give him a reason to turn nasty right now.”

Snape had simply barked _“look at the board,”_ to the class and seated himself behind his desk, looking like he wanted to shatter the row of vials that lined his desk. No one had dared question him just yet. It was obvious when Snape was in a foul mood, and even though Harry had wanted to do some investigative work, even _looking_ at the professor right now would be a death wish.

It hit him like a gift from Merlin himself, then.

Investigative work. Snape. Malfoy. Diversion. _Answers._

A sly grin spread across his face.

“Hermione,” Harry said through focused green eyes, “I need you to _not_ look anywhere other than your potion.”

She blinked back at him as Ron botched his third Valerian root, looking up at the both of them questioningly. Harry looked over his shoulder, finding that Snape was still trying to incinerate the back of Neville’s head with his glare, and that Malfoy was making Pansy Parkinson do his, in addition in her own.

“Am I allowed to ask why?” Hermione asked, like he’d told her to light Snape on fire.

“He messes with my position on the team,” Harry shrugged, letting a wicked grin spread across his face, “I mess with his potion.”

“You’re going to botch his potion because he has a big mouth?” She rolled her eyes, “You’re being childish.”

Harry wanted to defend himself against the accusation, but shut his mouth and grinned at Ron instead. It was too good of a plan to pass up. If he got Malfoy into detention tonight, that meant he could have a couple of minutes to snoop and pry through Snape’s quarters, now that they were open to him. He’d just have to wait until Ariel was distracted, and then…

The rest of the class was working away dutifully. None of them seemed to be even listening to Malfoy anymore, save Parkinson. Goyle and Crabbe’s potion was beginning to shoot out black sparks that smelt like sulfur.

_“Nocumentem.”_ Harry breathed, pointing his wand at Pansy and Malfoy’s table. Their wands, which lay side by side, stirred, and fell to the floor.

As they bent down to pick them up, Harry quickly tossed three newt eyeballs into their potion, watching Snape all the while, not even bothering to follow his aim. They landed in with a soft _plop,_ and then, the potion promptly exploded.

Boils and a barking mad potion’s professor later, Harry had a one-way ticket to uninterrupted snooping that night.

He couldn’t help but think his dad would be proud of this one.

* * *

Harry had been lying on the sofa in the Slytherin common room, waiting for Malfoy to leave for his detention so that he could deploy his plan. The clock on the wall now read ten after eight, which meant that Malfoy was late. Harry smirked to himself, already imagining the look on Snape’s face when he waltzed in. He’d probably give the prat another week’s worth.

“What’s wrong with you?” Damon’s voice asked from somewhere above him. Harry looked upwards to find Damon leaning over the head of the couch, one of Lockhart's books tucked tightly underneath his arm, and cobalt eyes dancing in amusement.

“Bored.” Harry replied, rising a nonchalant eyebrow back up at him, “Did you hear that Draco blew up a potion today? Snape gave him detention.”

“I know.” He said, making his way towards the door, “He left about fifteen minutes ago for it.”

“He’s… wait, _what?”_ Harry sprang up, “When? I’ve been –”

“You’ve been _what?”_ Damon asked, stopping to look back at him, laughter dancing in his eyes, but expression passive.

“I uh… I’ve just remembered I’ve something to do.” He said quickly, grabbing his cloak and flying past Damon, who stepped aside and did not attempt to follow him.

Harry flew down the corridor for Snape’s quarters, pulling the wool tightly around him. It was already freezing down in the dungeons, and it was only October. He wondered how Ariel put up with it all year, but a part of him figured she was probably used to it, like Snape probably was.

He quickly muttered the password, which Ariel had picked at the start of term to be _pacem_ (Snape had rolled his eyes when she’d said it and Harry had later read in a Latin dictionary that it meant _peace),_ and scurried on through. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw the door to the potion’s classroom closed and the seat vacant behind Snape’s study desk. His sister’s bedroom door was open.

Harry crept over and peeked inside, finding her scribbling something down into what appeared to be a notebook, like her life depended on it.

“Ariel?” Harry called, making his presence known.

His sister didn’t look up. In fact, it seemed as though Ariel hadn’t heard him at all. She continued to write, maybe even a bit faster, he black eyes glued to the pages with a kind of intensity that made her look almost enraged.

“Ariel?” He said again, taking a step into the room.

Her hand moved quickly across the parchment, the lines in her forehead deepening in concentration. She didn’t even twitch at the sound of her name.

_“Ariel!”_ Harry said a third time, louder than the previous attempts.

The quill nearly flew out of her hand as she jumped, obviously startled. Her eyes seemed a bit unfocused as she blinked rapidly, her eyes a bit unfocused until they landed on him.

“Harry,” Ariel sighed, her voice sound strange, like air through a windpipe, “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I called your name three times.” Harry said, a bit disbelieving. His eyebrows came together, “Are you alright? You look…”

She didn’t look well. Ariel was pale, but her skin had begun to take on a strange tinge, like the color of bad milk. Her high cheekbones were more pronounced. The red in her hair seemed to have faded a bit.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” She mumbled, almost to herself, putting the quill down with a little more force than necessary, “I’m _fine._ Dad has me on lockdown.”

“What?” Harry’s jaw dropped, “What did you do?”

_“I_ didn’t do _anything.”_ She glared down at the notebook, like it was its fault, “I did a bloody spell and it bloody well worked and he thinks I’m getting tipped off from an older student!”

“Okay, okay.” Harry held up his hands in surrender and began to back away, “I was going to do my homework here, if that’s alright with you. I didn’t see Snape…”

“He’s in detention with Malfoy.” Ariel waved him off, lowering her eyes back to the parchment, “I have a ton of work to do Harry, so if you don’t mind…”

That was music to his ears. If Ariel was busy, then that meant she wouldn’t come checking in on him and catch him snooping. Harry mumbled a quick apology, not realizing that she seemed to be acting short with him, something Ariel usually _never_ was with him, and closed the door behind him.

He stared at the empty quarters, and set to work.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I had a moment of panic when I realized there are 14 days left until I return to university and I have wELL oVeR 14 chapters left to post. It’s a weekend, anyway, so TADA! Double upload! I might do one tomorrow, too (((maybe))).
> 
> Thank you for your kind words and PMs and support. A lot of people have been finding me on tumblr, so if you’re interested, I’m under as lupinlaughed. I have entire tag dedicated to Red Sorrow on my blog that has setting character/research if you want to check it out.


	39. The Rising Deep

Harry stood in the hallway of Snape’s quarters, looking around without a clue in the world where to begin. It was _one_ thing to go snooping through other people’s belongings when you know what it is you’re looking for, however it was quite another, Harry thought to himself, when you have no idea what the items you are seeking might be. All he knew was that he wanted to find out more about his parents. The things he might find to tell him though – well, they could be anything.

He felt a pang of guilt flash across his conscious as he made his way towards the fireplace in the lounge, but quickly reminded himself that he wouldn’t have had to resort to this if Snape and his sister hadn’t both been so reluctant to talk to him these days. Was _that_ his fault?

He bent to place his rucksack on the seat of the sofa – he’d only brought it with him for the pretense of completing his homework. Slowly, and silently, Harry moved around and began picking up things he found on the mantelpiece, examining them for any information, though that didn’t take too long. Snape never was one for useless ornaments, though Harry was confused why there was a framed picture of a regular old sailing boat up there. Snape in trunks, swimming in the sea?

Now, _there_ was an image Harry did not want to linger on. He shuddered.

Stealthily creeping over to the first of many bookcases, it almost felt like he was back at the Dursley’s, creeping into the kitchen to steal food in the moonlight.

From his right, he heard a sneeze.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks, eyes darting to the doorway. He heard a sniffle following the initial cry. To his relief, it was only Ariel. She sounded like she was coming down with something.

As Harry returned to the task in hand, it occurred to him that he should approach this mission methodically. He had created the first diversion by making sure Snape was kept out of the way at Malfoy’s detention for a couple of hours, and he knew that Ariel was hiding herself away in her room most evenings because of schoolwork these days. So far everything had gone just as he had planned it, enabling him to now seize the moment and see what information he could find.

Ariel had told him that Snape had been at school the same time as their parents, and he was sure that he would have _something_ that made reference to them, _especially_ if Snape had been friends with their mum. Maybe not so much about their dad, if Snape had truly hated him as much as he claimed to. Merlin knew that Snape was definitely a hoarder when it came to his potions stores, so surely he’d have a yearbook or old newspapers or _something_ that mentioned James or Lily. Just a _shred_ of something that Harry could use… that would make him believe that he’d been telling the truth.

As he fingered through each book on the first shelf he had come to, Harry felt the frustration rising inside him that Ariel had refused to tell him anything when he’d asked. It was understandable that Snape would not be forthcoming with stories or information, but for his _sister_ to rebut him as well felt like a real kick in the teeth.

Harry proceeded to carefully remove each book from the shelf — cursorily flicking through it in case anything might catch his eye, or even fall out – before slotting it back into the correct gap that it had come from. He knew the importance of leaving everything exactly as he had found it. It was that, or Snape would probably finish the job Quirrell had tried to start.

Fifteen minutes and two more shelves later, Harry had found absolutely nothing. It was beginning to feel useless, but a small voice in his head was telling him that there must be _something_ to be found here. He figured that if he could search a small area of the room each time he had an opportunity, maybe it would take three or four visits. Which meant, Harry thought with a wicked smile, that he would have to try and get Malfoy in trouble three or four more times.

Harry reached up to the higher shelves, noticing the titles of the books kept up there seemed a lot darker than those at eye level. He shouldn’t have been surprised, then, to find that some of the books he brought down from the top would not open when he tried to flick through them. He had heard Ariel say that these quarters were Warded before, but he thought that just meant the entrances and exits, and not objects themselves inside. No matter how hard he tried, he just could not get some of the bindings to open.

He touched the tip of his wand to one particular dusty tome entitled _Moste Potente Potions,_ whispering _Alohomora_ in desperation. It was the only spell that he could think of that might unlock the binding, though he had a hunch it would take more than that to get past Snape’s defenses. But still, how could he be satisfied that he had checked everywhere, if he hadn’t actually been able to.

Expecting the spell simply not to work, Harry was taken aback when instead of failing to open, the book responded to his wand by spitting out a green flame. It was not hot, and nor did it hurt Harry’s hand, but in shock he dropped the book which landed with a thud on the stone floor.

Harry stood stock still, not daring to move lest he be caught in the act. Fortunately, Ariel appeared not to have heard him, so he quickly picked the book back up again and pushed it back into it’s place on the top shelf, his heart racing and breathing heavy. Fear flashed through Harry’s mind as brightly as the green flame itself, no longer wondering what secrets may be held inside the book. Instead, Harry panicked to realize that surely the outbreak of fire must have alerted Snape in some way to an attempt to access his stuff.

He felt blood pulsing in his head as he tried to calm down, distancing himself from the bookshelf. He stumbled backwards and onto the sofa where he had dumped his rucksack earlier, remembering he’d told Ariel he was going to do his homework here. Yes, that seemed like the only thing to do now – to stop playing silly games and do his homework without raising any more suspicion.

Spooked, Harry took his rucksack, and emptied his parchment and quill onto the desk in the corner of the room. Harry had seen Ariel doing her work at this desk in the past, though he assumed that Snape was a more regular occupant, judging by the abandoned glass sitting upon it. Harry unrolled the first parchment — a two-foot essay for Binns about the Vampyric Uprising of 1426 — and set to work straight away, trying to look as innocent as possible in case Snape walked in. It was hard work, and not something that Harry found interesting, but he had had enough excitement for one night and felt in some way relieved by the monotony of the homework. He’d have to be more prepared next time, for sure. He should have expected Snape’s books to breathe fire – it was one of those things his imagination got right, most times.

An hour or so after he’d begun his essay, Harry finally wound the parchment back up, leaning back on the chair to stretch. He’d calmed down after the shock from earlier – his curiosity was piqued once again.

Harry ran his hands along the top of the polished mahogany desk that he had been working on, admiring the detail that it displayed. Most of the desks in Hogwarts were old and worn, with centuries’ worth of carvings in them, and not always of an acceptable sort. This desk, on the other hand, was immaculate. It was clearly old, but perhaps valuable, Harry thought. Down each side of the desk were three brass-handled drawers, all pushed flush to the desk.

Harry glanced down the hallway towards Ariel’s room as his nimble fingers skirted across the first of the drawers. His index finger curled around the cold brass handle, and he unconsciously held his breath as he gently pulled lest another shower of green sparks appear.

Well, he could’ve guessed – the drawer was locked.

With a sigh of frustration, Harry tried the remaining drawers on the left hand side. All three were locked fast, and no way was he brave enough to try _Alohomora_ again. He moved to the right hand side to find the top drawer stuck fast, and the second going absolutely nowhere.

He was surprised when the bottom drawer slid easily open within his grasp.

Harry’s heart raced again for the second time that evening.

Peering into the drawer, though, he found it to contain precisely _nothing_ of interest. It contained old quills, half-used bottles of ink, unused envelopes and an assortment of other odds and ends that is found in any old drawer in nearly every lived-in household. Clearly there was no need for any of this junk to be locked away, hence why the drawer was left open, presumably as it was often in use as a dumping receptacle.

How could someone, who was obsessive about nearly _everything,_ harbor so much _junk?_

Just to make sure, Harry rifled through the contents, pushing aside clips and thumb tacks, and the odd wax seal stamp or two. His fingers closed on what he thought must be a third seal stamp, only for him to examine it under the desk lamp and find it to be an old acorn.

“What’re you doing?”

Harry’s head shot up, he kneed the desk drawer in a bit, and pocketed the acorn out of sight.

It was only Ariel, he realized as he looked up. His chest released itself in relief.

She walked over to the desk, unfurled the parchment, and made a face. “Oh, gross. _History.”_

“I agree.” He could quite honestly give less of a damn about his essay at this point. He could still feel his heartbeat in his ears.

“We need a new History professor along with Defense.” Ariel snorted, and then rather abruptly, said, “Dad’ll be back soon… you should go. I’m in trouble, so I don’t know if he’ll be happy to find you and I chatting away.”

Harry took the hint, relieved for the advance warning so that he would not be in the firing line when Snape returned after Malfoy’s detention. He gave Ariel a curious look, wondering what had happened in Lockhart’s class to make her want to get him of of Snape’s quarters. At the end of last year, Ariel usually had to _beg_ Harry to say. He’d have to ask Damon when he saw him again.

“Sure.” He replied, gathering his things, “Thanks for letting me work in here. See you at breakfast?”

She nodded half-heartedly, already looking preoccupied and not really listening to what Harry was saying. He gave her another questioning look, but it seemed that she wasn’t really hearing him.

Ariel turned her back to him and walked back into her bedroom, closing the door with more force than necessary, and leaving Harry to take his own leave, reaching down into his pocket to feel like acorn and wondered why Snape would have thrown it into his drawer in the first place.

* * *

Severus emerged from a two-hour long detention feeling far more irritable than he originally had. The younger Malfoy had sulked and complained about having to disembowel an entire barrel of horned toads, _with gloves,_ which was a blessing in itself. Had he been Longbottom, Malfoy would have been scraping toad guts out from under his fingernails until Christmas. Normally, Severus wouldn’t have even assigned the boy detention, but when that cauldron had blown, so had his temper.

He slammed the door that led to his classroom behind him, mustering enough strength to avoid the bottle of firewhiskey he knew was waiting for him in his desk drawer. The last thing he wanted was to drink when he was feeling stressed and turn into his father, _especially_ if things between himself and his daughter were tense.

Passing by Ariel’s room, he found her door closed. Severus stared at it, wondering if he should speak to her now, or let her stew in isolation a little while more. Ariel had hated it when he’d restricted her to her bedroom when she was younger. It had only been a matter of time before she’d emerge, stir crazy and apologetic.

Tonight, it seemed, the circumstances were different. Severus half expected her to be waiting for him in his study, but his quarters were silent and seemingly void of life. He raised a knuckle to her door, about to knock, when he curled it back and sneered, snarling as he headed for his desk.

Bellatrix’s son had immediately been the suspect of his daughter’s spike in abilities. Merlin knew that Slytherin needed a stern hand, someone to assure the children that their parent’s paths did not have to be followed. Dumbledore was hopeful that as Potter grew, he would rise above, but he had expressed interest in Bella’s brat as well. To Severus, a boy from _that_ kind of background simply had no reason to want to stray away from Death Eater-hood, and _definitely_ didn’t befriend the children who had apparently led to the imprisonment of their parents and their Master’s downfall. Ariel trusted Bellatrix’s brat far _too much,_ in Severus’ opinion. But what would _Bellatrix’s brat_ prove to gain from Ariel practicing curses way beyond her years? Or rather, why did the girl feel the need to hide it from him?  

Severus rubbed his temple tiredly. It felt like a betrayal, a sting that no matter how much he ignored, he couldn’t get rid of. Ariel had _promised him_ that she wouldn’t keep any secrets. A part of him still thought it was ridiculous to give a _child_ so much emphasis on something he knew he didn’t deserve after all _he_ had kept from _her,_ but after Quirrell…

Severus sat down heavily in the chair behind his desk.

And then he saw that one of his drawers was not closed.

He pulled the drawer out and rummaged around it, suspicions raised and blood beginning to boil. He never left any of the drawers open like that. _Never._

His face paled even more than usual when he realized something was missing. He’d kept something of value in there – a small acorn that Lily had given him one summer’s day before all of their troubles had begun. He’d treasured it ever since, not losing it after all of these years. Severus had let Ariel play with it when she’d been very little, usually when she’d crawled into his lap while he was grading, desperate to give her something to distract her for a bit.

Why had she gone through his things and stolen it? What was she looking for? Surely Ariel couldn’t have realized the significance Severus held it to… but then again, the girl _did_ have a knack for reading him like no one else quite could. The other drawers, he tested, were locked as they should have been. There was no way Ariel could have gotten _those_ open, help from an outside source or not.

He stood, slammed the drawer shut and stormed over to Ariel’s door, rapping thrice, and entered without prompting.

Severus blinked at the unexpected darkness that greeted him. As his eyes adjusted, he made out a dark shape on the bed. He could hear scratching, and as the light from the doorway filtered in, he saw that Ariel was _writing._

In the _dark._

“What the blazes are you doing?” He asked her, switching on the light with the flick of his wand.

Ariel looked up, looking a bit disoriented. The quill fell from her hand and rolled onto the floor. Her eyes were red, like she’d been crying.

“Work.” She mumbled, keeping her gaze down.

“Are you _trying_ to ruin your eyes?” Severus sneered at her.

“No.” came the bland reply.

He arched an eyebrow, “Then why are you sitting in pitch black darkness?”

Ariel shrugged, a motion Severus truly loathed. He didn’t know what to do with a _shrug._ He wanted to shake her.

He inhaled deeply through his nose, and stepped further into the room. Ariel didn’t lift her head, but kept it down, staring at the notebook in her lap. He moved to seat himself at the edge of the bed.

Her eyes, black as night, finally looked at him, and they made his heart twist painfully.

Ariel couldn’t be _that_ angry with him for wanting to know where she was learning spells that were so complex. She’d been livid when he’d told her about Potter and Lily... hurt, confused, angry, betrayed… but she’d never looked at him like _that._ There wasn’t even anything necessarily _wrong_ with her being more advanced – in fact, Severus welcomed it. If she wanted more studies, he’d gladly arrange it for her. But whoever was helping her obviously wasn’t telling her how to control herself, and that was what worried him.

Ariel didn’t seethe. She didn’t stew. She didn’t give terrible glares and one worded responses. Ariel exploded everywhere. She cried. She yelled and spoke her mind. If there was anyone Severus knew, it was his daughter, and she had Lily’s temper.

“Ariel,” Severus said slowly, trying to contain his own, “what is the matter?”

“Nothing.” She bit out, wringing her hands in her lap. Severus watched them. He’d never seen her do that before.

“Then why are you rummaging through my personal things?” He demanded with a snarl, eyes flitting about the room in search of the trinket.

“I haven’t left this bloody room!” Ariel snapped, “What, do you think I’m stealing along with cheating, now?”

“Watch your mouth.” Severus grabbed her chin roughly, holding it there so that he could look directly at her. She seemed to shrink back a bit, some of the frostiness of her demeanor melting away, and she pulled away.

Severus almost felt guilty in that moment, watching as her face crumpled into a look of shame. He marveled at how quickly her attitude seemed to have changed, and then, he began to worry even more so.

“Sorry,” Ariel said in a small voice, wrapping her arms around herself and tucking her knees under her chin, “I’m sorry.”

He could tell she wasn’t apologizing for the short remark. It was remorse for something more. She looked deeply upset. _What wasn’t she telling him?_ Was she being purposely obtuse about why he was so angry, or was there something more?

“Where is the acorn, Ariel?” Severus asked, trying with all his might to keep his tone calm, “Why were you rummaging through my things?”

Her eyes peeked up at him, like she hadn’t heard him correctly. Then, her eyebrows furrowed together, and suddenly, a familiar light returned to her eyes and Ariel was staring at him like he’d sprouted a second head, “The… the _what?”_

He heard his knuckles crack as they balled in his lap. Ariel eyed them warily.

“I’m not going to sit here and play games with you.” _Control, control, control,_ “The spells, perhaps I can understand, but I wasn’t aware I was raising a kleptomaniac.”

Ariel was still goggling at him like he was speaking Mandarin. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and began to search his mind for a reason for her actions. He was usually very good at figuring Ariel out, but her behavior as of late was beginning to make his head spin.

Anger? No, Ariel wasn’t spiteful like he was. She didn’t lash out like that. Gryffindor she was, Ariel did tend to make her feelings known quite well without twisting the knife. Not to mention, as Severus had reminded himself before, that Ariel would have no earthly idea what the bloody acorn meant when she’d come across it. Unless…

Was she looking for answers for something? Looking for something more? She couldn’t have known Lily was connected to the trifle, but perhaps…

“Your mother gave it to me.” Severus admitted heavily, gauging her reaction carefully.

Ariel’s eyes widened and filled to the brim with a hunger, the same kind Severus had felt for so many years. Then, they dimmed again, and she appeared torn. She looked like she was fighting herself, biting her lip with such force it was a wonder she didn’t split it open.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ariel whispered, “I didn’t… I didn’t take it. Honest.”

He considered believing her. She certainly _was_ rather convincing. But if it hadn’t been her, there was only one other person that could have gotten into his quarters without alerting him, and that person was…

“Was Potter here?” Severus’ eyes narrowed, his mind’s wheels already turning. Was Ariel covering for him?

Ariel blinked, like he’d asked her to explain Muggle physics, “No. He wouldn’t go through your stuff, even if he had been.”

He made a noise in the back of his throat, but had to agree. The boy wasn’t an idiot. Severus didn’t think he had the gall to do such a thing… _anymore._

Her fingers were now tracing over the cover of that blasted notebook she’d been scribbling down notes in for weeks now. Severus was reminded, with a touch of fondness, of how he’d used his sixth year Potion’s textbook like Ariel was using her own. Granted, he’d basically rewritten the damn thing, but the sentiment was similar enough.

Severus quickly corrected himself and went back to the task at hand – his daughter’s strangeness. He decided to put aside the bauble for now and get to the root of the problem. If he learned who Ariel was speaking to, maybe she’d tell him what she was looking for in their quarters.

“Is someone threatening you?” Severus felt his gums itch at the very thought, “Are they teaching you these spells, and in return, you have to give them something you know I wouldn’t approve of?”

“What? No!” Ariel looked back up at him, alarmed, “Of course not!”

“You’re going through my things.” He gave her a knowing look. “You’re not sleeping. You’re performing acts of magic far beyond your years. This isn’t like you, child.”

Ariel bit her lip, “Would you believe me if I said I really _was_ reading them in a book? I’m not getting help from one of the older kids, honest! And I _definitely_ wasn’t going through your things!” That final sentence came out louder than the rest.

Severus studied her, wanting to trust her, wanting so much to know he could rely on her to tell him if something was wrong. There was something off in those eyes, though, like a flame had been doused. The usual sparkle, even when she was upset only dimmed, but now, Severus couldn’t find it, no matter how hard he searched. Ariel looked very small all of a sudden, vulnerable, like she was getting ready to skitter backwards and disappear into the wall.

He instinctively reached for her, then, but Ariel eyed his hand like it might bite her. He let his face show his confusion for once, for she had never _not_ wanted to be comforted, nor pass up an opportunity to _comfort._

She wasn’t acting like herself. Any doubts that Ariel wasn’t acting strangely were suddenly extinguished all together. Ariel never looked fearful of him, save a handful of circumstances. No, something deeper was going on, something that was more than just herself.

The alarm to the Floo went off just then, causing Ariel to start and Severus’ head to whip around. His jaw tightened, for only one other person knew his Floo other than Dumbledore, and the Headmaster never called in advance.

Malfoy Manor.

_Dammit._

He sprang up, cursing Lucius in his head. Of all the times, did it have to be _now?_ Lucius _never_ came to Severus’ quarters at Hogwarts. He always went to _them._

Severus turned to find Ariel watching from the doorway, eyes wide with curiosity and a hint of apprehension. There wasn’t time to tell her to leave –  she’d undoubtedly argue him, and by then, Lucius would have come through and seen her…

“You will stay in your room,” Severus commanded in a voice that was both authoritative and dangerous, “or so help me, you won’t see the outside of these dungeons until term ends.”

Ariel opened her mouth, most likely to ask him why, but clamped it shut when he gave her a warning glare, and she quickly shut the door.

 _“Silencio!”_ He barked at it, and stalked towards the Floo to meet his unwanted guest.

Soon enough, a tall, dark figure had filled the fireplace, and robes far too expensive for Severus’ taste fell to the wooden floor, an arrogant smile and cold eyes meeting his.  

* * *

Ariel pressed her ear against the door just as she heard the shout of her father’s spell.

“Dammit!” She kicked the door in frustration, wondering who in Merlin’s name was Flooing _Severus._ He didn’t have friends, save Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster, perhaps, but they never came through Floo. He’d looked a bit panicked before that regular annoyance passed over his face. Who the hell could be in their quarters that would make him act so?

She fell against the door and tried to massage the growing ache in her head away. She felt absolutely miserable, like she was coming down with a flu that was keeping steady instead of getting better. It was draining her, and the last thing Ariel needed right now was to start feeling ill. And _now,_ to top it all off, Severus thought she sneaking around and stealing and doing Merlin knows what behind his back. What had she done to make him think that, save the spell? It hadn’t been _that_ much of a big deal.

Ariel took several deep breaths and tried desperately to keep her emotions under control. She felt terrible for being short with him… but when he’d come in, Ariel found herself not remembering the past several hours. She’d most likely fallen asleep, but her father had come in accusing her, and maybe Harry, of taking things from drawers and doing Merlin-knows what with older students, and Ariel felt… _detached._

She vaguely recalled dreaming of Harry. He’d been sitting in her father’s desk… something about Binns’ essay…

Now she was stuck here while her father chatted away with whoever was outside her door. If only she could cancel his spell…

A light lit above her head at that thought, and she sprang onto her bed.

 _Tom,_ Ariel wrote once she’d opened the notebook.

 _I thought you were angry with me,_ He wrote back. She could almost hear the smugness in his voice, like he’d been expecting her to write back so quickly.

She’d been livid with Tom before. Livid with her father. Livid with Lockhart. Ariel had demanded to know why he hadn’t told her that _Reducto_ was a _curse_ and not simply just a Stunner. She’d never have cast it on the red cap had she’d known…

The fact that Tom had lied upset her. She wondered if she should stop talking to him… Severus was already suspicious… he’d have a hippogriff if he knew…

She was going to tell him the truth when he came back in, but for now, Ariel had to find out what was going on just beyond her door.

 _I need a way to cancel a Silencing spell. Do you know anything?_ She wrote three extra question marks for emphasis.

 _Perhaps,_ Tom wrote back loftily, _what do I get in return?_

Ariel blinked. He couldn’t be serious.

 _The satisfaction of knowing you’ve done me a favor,_ she said, _Do you know anything or not?_

_Temper, temper._

_Tom, I don’t have time for this. It’s important._

_Who are you trying to eavesdrop on?_

Her quill pressed to the parchment, ready to scrawl _my father_ down, but a red flag went up at this. Severus would murder her if he knew she’d told _Damon_ the truth. Telling the magical talking diary didn’t seem like a good idea, either.

 _Professor Snape,_ Ariel decided on, with an annoyed sigh and anxious glance at the door.

_Why Professor Snape?_

_He’s talking to someone and doesn’t want me to know who._

_If I tell you the spell,_ Tom wrote, _will you tell me who it was?_

Ariel went to ask why he cared, but she’d already wasted enough time, _Fine. The spell?_

_Auditerum._

“Thank you!” She breathed aloud, pointing her wand at the door and performing the spell.

“... Diagon Alley. Little chit.” A cold, familiar voice was sneering, “She’ll soon learn her lesson, I suppose.”

A cold trickled down Ariel’s spine as she realized who it was. She slowly climbed down from her bed to listen more closely. Why was Lucius here? Had Draco asked him to come about the brooms? It certainly didn’t sound like they were talking about Quidditch.

If her father took Harry off the team, she was going to ask Tom to tell her his nastiest Hexes and booby-trap his quarters.

“Would you care to expand?” Her father’s voice asked, a silky drawl that seemed completely unphased by the fact that Lucius had just threatened her.

“There are… _things_ at Hogwarts that will soon unfold. Things that were started years ago, but were never followed through.”

“Do you take some kind of sick delight in being indirect with me?”

Lucius chuckled, “You’ll see soon enough. I trust you’ll accept my offer about Draco, then? I’m sure Flint could take Potter off the team, seeing you’ll lose no sleep over him.”

Ariel’s blood boiled at his words. Her father couldn’t be _bought,_ and neither could Harry’s talent. 

“I’ll speak to Flint.” Her father replied. She could hear a smirk in his voice, “We’ll see where Draco fits best.”

“He’d expressed interest in Seeker.” Lucius said, like Severus hadn’t guessed that already.

“He wants to be Seeker to prove a point to Potter. I’m sure you’ve heard of their rivalry?”

“I have. I’ve also heard that you’ve taken a distinct dislike to the boy.”

“He’s his father all over again.” There were several layers of disgust in her father’s voice.

“And what of the girl? Draco’s also mentioned that you seem to be more… _tolerable_ of her.”

There was a pause. Ariel felt her heart leap up into her throat.

“The girl is not as great a nuisance as her brother is.” Severus said, “But do not mistake my tolerance as anything more than what the old codger expects of me. She’s an insufferable brat who takes after her father as much as Potter does.”

“Is it because she looks like the Mudblood?”

Ariel’s eyes widened, practically melding into the door as she strained to hear her father’s response. How did Lucius know about her father and mother’s relationship? Hadn’t Severus said he and Lucius were friends in school, too? Or colleagues. It didn’t seem like he knew much, but Lucius was letting on that he knew a little more than most – certainly more than Ariel had known.

“Lily Potter has nothing to do with the girl.” Severus’ voice was flat and void of any emotion. She could only imagine his expression.

Ariel heard the beginnings of Lucius’ next sentence when a roll of nausea rolled over her, and she took off for her bathroom, leaning over the toilet. Her stomach heaved, but her throat seemed to close up, like it hadn’t meant to make her sick. Ariel hovered for a moment before falling back down on her haunches.

What the hell was wrong with her?

Ariel fell against the wall and tried to calm herself down, blaming her disorientation and exhaustion on her studying. Maybe the curse had taken something out of her, too. If it was magic too advanced for her age, it was normal for her to be feeling so drained… like the thing with her and Harry’s scars…

She didn’t hear her father enter – she only saw his black boots and the ends of his cloak fill her vision. He didn’t kneel down, but stood and looked down at her, jaw clenched and black eyes glittering.

“Dad…” Ariel began, but her throat tightened in such a painful way that it brought tears to her eyes. She was confused at her reaction, not understanding why she couldn’t force the words out, why every time she even thought of telling Severus about the diary, she felt like there was a cork lodged into her windpipe.

Her father was looking at her through guarded eyes. It made her throat hurt even more. He didn’t believe her, and she didn’t know how or why she couldn’t tell him the truth.

“That was Lucius Malfoy,” Severus told her in a hard voice, “I apologize for my abruptness, but I think you know by now the repercussions of anyone finding you here.” He frowned, then, as if just noticing her spot on the bathroom floor, “Were you ill?”

She nodded mutely, gritting her teeth at the growing ache. She went to ask what Lucius had meant by Ariel learning her lesson, but bit her tongue. If Severus knew she’d broken through his charm, it would immediately expose her lie.

“To bed with you, then.” Her father jerked his head in the direction of the doorway, reaching down to help her as Ariel scrambled to her feet.

She settled herself back under the sheets, placing Tom’s diary on the nightstand next to her. Severus left for a moment, returning with several vials of potions; fever reducer, stomach settler, Dreamless Sleep…

Ariel downed each one of them, but unlike times past, didn’t feel the effects automatically. The pounding in her head still raged on and her stomach gurgled in protest. She wanted to tell him about the diary, but every time the thought crossed her mind, her airways seized like it was causing some kind of terrible reaction.

“Better?” Her father asked. His face was still taut with anger, but his eyes had softened, though just slightly. She wondered if that was because of what Lucius had said about her, or because he thought she was sick.

Ariel felt her head bob even though inside she could hear herself saying _no no no._

“I want you to see Madam Pomfrey in the morning.” He told her, “I’d take you myself, but you know my schedule is chaotic tomorrow. I’ll check in with her to make sure you go.”

Another nod. She felt her mind tug, and say, _but you really won’t._ She didn’t know why.

Severus raised a hand to her cheek to feel her temperature, letting it fall as Ariel reached her hand up to grab it in apology. He pulled away from her. She knew why – she deserved it, for not just telling him the damn truth, but Ariel _couldn’t,_ and didn’t know why.

“I’m telling the truth.” Ariel forced out, her eyes telling him something different.

Severus paused at the edge of her bed, mouth slightly parted, like he wanted to say something. She held her breath and waited, not knowing why she hoped he wouldn’t believe her, another part of her hoping her would.

“We’ll speak tomorrow,” said Severus, “when you are well.”

The door closed, and she found herself surrounded by darkness once more.

Ariel looked at the diary as her eyes adjusted, and for some reason, a rush of cold enveloped her, and she did not _want_ to tell Tom goodnight for the first time since she’d received the diary. But she had promised him that she would tell him who had come since he’d helped her, and reluctantly picked up the notebook.

 _It was Lucius Malfoy, the biggest prat to live,_ Ariel wrote, _happy?_

 _I am,_ Tom wrote back.

* * *

“Come with me.” A voice hissed into Harry’s ear, making him yelp and jump about two feet in the air at breakfast the following morning.

“Merlin, Flint!” Harry snapped, trying to find his heartbeat, “You could give a bloke a little —”

“Do you want to keep your place on the team?” Flint whispered, looking very intense.

Harry’s eyes widened. He wordlessly stood, giving Ron a meaningful look before following him out of the Great Hall without a second thought.

“Don’t tell me Malfoy’s threat was serious!” Harry hissed, a creeping feeling of dread slowly washing over him. If he couldn’t play Quidditch, he was going to find himself a hole and never come out. And _then,_ he’d murder Malfoy.

He _had_ to play. Surely if Snape, who hated Quidditch and his Quidditch-star father, saw the talent in him, he’d keep him on.

“It seems that way.” Flint told him grimly as they stopped, just outside the doors to the castle. Today marked the first of October, the early morning sun warming their head and shoulders as a cool breeze tousled their hair.

Harry felt his heart drop down to the dungeons.

 _“However,”_ Flint held up a hand at Harry’s grief-stricken expression, “I’ve been with Professor Snape this morning to talk it over —”

“You can’t kick me off because of new brooms!” He tried desperately, “You… you said it yourself! Snape put me on _himself!_ I’m the best Seeker in decades!”

“Slow down, kid.” Flint rolled his eyes, “We know. Snape had a whole plan ready to go. I’m telling _you_ so that you don’t try and poison Malfoy in his sleep because you think he’s getting your position. We’re keeping you _and_ getting those free Nimbus’.”

Harry blinked uncomprehendingly a couple of times from behind his glasses before he realized what was happening.

“Snape has…” He repeated slowly, “a _plan.”_

“To get the brooms Lucius promised and to keep you on without pissing Malfoy off, yes.” Flint nodded, “Precisely.”

Something akin to relief warmed Harry then, making the world behind him look brighter. He wondered if Snape had still hated him, he’d have taken this many measure to ensure his place on the team. Or perhaps he just valued Harry’s talent as a Slytherin’s secret weapon.

He reached into his robe pocket and felt the acorn, not really knowing why he’d kept it and carried it around with him this morning.

“How’re you going to do that?” Harry asked, incredibly curious.

“Malfoy wants Seeker.” Flint made a noise of disbelief, “He’s not likely to be better than you, but I won’t deny that he’s probably had a good amount of training. Higgs’ isn’t as good as he used to be as Chaser, so I’m going to have Draco try out for that position instead. I’ll feed his ego and build him up, make him think he’d be the best damn Chaser until he could give less of a damn about Seeker. Draco’s happy, we get the brooms.”

He nodded, “Do you need me to do anything?”

“Just stay out of the way, really.” Flint gave him an apologetic look, “You’ve already got the spot, you know that. Snape said we need Draco to think he has a shot, until he thinks he’s better as Chaser. I think he’ll hold up alright with it, honestly.” He turned serious, “I know you two hate each other, but you can’t let your rivalry get in the way of working together. We won’t stand a chance if you and Malfoy are trying to knock each other off your brooms. If that’s the case, I have a decision to make, and I really don’t want to be put in that position, and neither will you.”

Harry gave a nervous laugh as Flint clapped him on the back, “You’d chose me though, right?”

It was his turn to guffaw, though it sounded more pitiful than anything. Harry gritted his teeth, following the prefect back into the school and wanting more than anything to throw the fact that Malfoy wasn’t Flint’s number one pick for Quidditch in his smug little face. The day he rode a Nimbus, even if it was the latest model, bought by _any_ Malfoy, was the day that Lockhart humbled himself.

“Hey, Flint?” Harry asked as they swept back into the Great Hall.

“Yeah?” He looked over his shoulder at him.

“Damon is planning on trying out, too. You’ll take _his_ seriously, won’t you?”

Flint looked surprised, “I thought he was in the same boat as Draco?”

“No, he didn’t know his uncle was going to buy Malfoy’s way onto the team.” Harry tried his hardest not to sneer the words, but bristled, “I think he’d make a damn good Keeper, if it’s worth anything.”

He looked thoughtful, and nodded, “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Potter. I’ll see you later tonight, then.”

They parted ways then, and Harry made his way back to the Great Hall to meet Ron and Hermione so that they could walk to Defense together, but saw someone familiar rushing past it just as he turned the corner.

“Hey!” Harry called after his sister, running to her side, “How’d last night go?”

Ariel cocked her head at him and continued to walk, “What about last night?”

“With Snape. Damon told me what happened in class.”

“Nothing.” She shrugged, “He got mad. We talked. The end.”

Harry frowned, “That can’t be all. You made it seem like I had to leave before he got back!”

Ariel stopped walking all of a sudden, his eyes meeting his. The circles under her eyes were darker. She was clutching the books in her arms far too tightly. “You were in our quarters last night?”

He stared at her, expecting for his sister to burst out laughing at the joke, but she remained serious… no – _tense._ Her mouth was smoothed into a straight line and black eyes glossy, their usual sparkle absent.

“Yes,” Harry said, drawing out the word, “I did homework in there. You told me my essay was terrible, and then said I should leave so that I didn’t give Snape a reason to snap at me.”

“Right,” Ariel shook her head, looking down to the floor, “right... I… sorry, Harry, it was a long night.”

He gave a single nod, wondering what she wasn’t telling him. Had Snape felt the wards go off and told Ariel? Or worse, Harry thought in horror, had he alerted Snape, and had he blamed _Ariel_ for snooping? He felt his gut twist in guilt and waited for his sister to provide further explanation to her odd demeanor, but instead, she mumbled an _“I’ll see you later,”_ and stalked away.

Harry stared after her for a long moment, sighed, about decided that this Wednesday would be a good time to get Malfoy another detention, and that Snape’s bedroom would be the next target.

* * *

_Take a nap,_ Tom suggested, even though Ariel hadn’t written to him for nearly ten minutes. He’d begun to write to her, unprovoked, if she kept the diary open, which she had been.

Her eyelids felt heavy as she sat in her hidden spot in the library. She had a Herbology test tomorrow, hadn’t even _started_ the essay that was to go along with it…

She glared at the words and buried her face into her arms. Everything _ached,_ like she been kicking and flailing her arms while trying to keep afloat for days on end.

 _Listen to me,_ the words materialized as Ariel glared at them, _just close your eyes. Let your mind take a break._

She needed a break. She hadn’t been able to sleep last night, afraid of the reason she hadn’t been able to tell her father the truth… afraid of what he was thinking… of why she couldn’t recall Harry…

_Just close them_

Ariel felt her head hit her arms.

_Just_

Her eyelids fluttered closed.

_close them._

_Just listen,_ someone breathed into her ear, and it sounded like the silk in Lucius’ voice.

* * *

Harry was walking with a new spring in his step as he made his way down to the dungeons that evening. The tryouts hadn’t gone to his _exact_ fantasy, for Malfoy hadn’t crashed to the ground and erupted into a fiery mess as Flint crossed him off the list of possibilities, but it had certainly been enough to assure Harry he was safe as Seeker.

Malfoy had successfully tried twice to knock Harry from his broom, until Damon had intervened and Hexed him into a bush. The rest of the Slytherins had hooted with laughter as Harry watched smugly, but once Malfoy had threatened to revoke his promise of Nimbus 2001’s, they’d shut their mouths and hopped back on their brooms.

“Your form is good.” Flint had told Malfoy, looking genuinely impressed, “So is your agility and control, though I’d like to see you on other positions other than Seeker. I think Chaser may be a better fit…”

Malfoy had seemed torn about it, but had reluctantly flown up to verse Flora Carrow. Flint began to look less worried, and by the end of the tryouts, Pansy Parkinson, who had come to watch from the stands, was gushing to Malfoy about how great of a Chaser he’d make.

“See that, Potter.” He’d jeered at him as he’d passed by, “Flint considered me for more than one position. Don’t get too comfortable, you just might be sitting sidelines. I don’t know what’s worse – being kicked off the team, or still being on it but never good enough.”

Harry had turned to Damon and said, “Tell your uncle I don’t want one of those bloody brooms.”

He’d left Damon at the Quidditch pitch, where he’d said he wanted to keep practicing. Harry had overheard Flint telling Higgs he’d make a good Keeper. At least with Malfoy on the team, Harry would have Damon to keep him company, and possibly from certain death.

The night air felt good against Harry’s skin, for he was drenched in sweat. He could still feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, making him more alert. He wished Ariel loved flying as much as he did, wished she’d join him. Maybe if Harry talked to her, just made her _try_ to fly as high as he did, she would see —

_“Come, let me rip… tear… come to me…”_

The scratchy, cold voice caused Harry to screech to a halt, nearly dropping his broom. He looked around warily, whipping out his wand.

_“Come… so long… very… long…”_

He froze, not twitching a muscle. He heard the voice breathing heavily… it slowly getting louder, like something buried in ice for hundreds upon hundreds of years… encased so that with something terrible and great, surely it would shatter…

_“Come to me… kill… I want to kill… to tear…”_

Harry jerked away so that he was pressed upon against the wall, raising his hands over his ears as it continued to hiss.

_“Kill… kill them… KILL….”_

_“Potter!”_ A voice barked, causing Harry to jump at least a foot into the air. He whirled around to find Snape, billowing robes and murderous scowl galore, strutting towards him. A part of him felt great relief, until, he realized that the voice had ceased speaking.

“Sir?” Harry squeaked, willing the voice to speak again so that Snape would hear it too and tell him he wasn’t going mad.

“What are you doing here all alone?” Snape stopped just short of ramming into him, though Harry skittered back several steps, “Where’s your sister?”

He blinked at him owlishly, “Ariel?”

“I don’t have time for games, Potter.” The man’s nostrils flared, “She had an appointment with Madam Pomfrey _and_ strict orders to return to my quarters once she was finished.” He leaned down so that he was face to face with Harry, “Where — _is —_ she?”

“I haven’t seen her since this morning, sir.” Harry replied honestly, “She’s probably up in Gryffindor Tower. She looked awfully tired…”

“I know that!” Snape bellowed, “Why do you think I wanted a medical consult on her? Damn medi-witch tells me it’s hormones, that she’s thirteen now and that _any_ odd behavior is _surely_ to be blamed on a chemical imbalance. Like _I_ don’t know —”

Harry just stared. Was he… _venting?_ Surely not.

Snape seemed to realize it at the same time Harry did, looking momentarily horrified before composing himself. He cleared his throat and looked around, almost awkwardly; in a way that made Harry almost want to snicker. But he didn’t dare of course. Instead, he stared at his shoes — a much safer option.

“What were you doing here, Potter?” He looked up to find Snape’s eyes on his broom, still sprawled across the floor.

Harry swallowed loudly. He couldn’t be hearing voices. He didn’t. He wasn’t. He couldn’t. Perhaps it had just been the wind. Or his inner desire to see Malfoy fall from a considerable height.

“Nothing, sir.” Harry mumbled, “I was just feeling a bit sore after practice and wanted to stretch.”

“In the middle of the corridor?” Snape asked flatly, disbelieving.

Harry winced, “I had a cramp.”

His words only seemed to make Snape more irritated. He threw his woolen cloak behind him and swooped past Harry, picking up the broom and shoving it into his hands before disappearing down the next corridor.

He stared at the now empty hallway, and wondered about the acorn in his pocket. 


	40. Night Visions

Ariel awoke slowly, her mind a muddled fog and limbs stiff.

She could hear a distant ringing as she slowly came back to herself from whatever dreaming state she’d fallen into. Ariel rubbed at her eyes and yawned, lifting her neck, expecting to find the familiar setting of the library before her. She’d had such an odd dream… something about a snake, and there was a boy there who had strangely reminded Ariel of Harry.

She blinked once as she took in her surroundings. Then twice. Then again.

How the _hell_ had she gotten to Gryffindor Tower?

The Diary was tucked tightly underneath her arm. Ariel frowned as she placed it on top of her quilt. Had she been writing to Tom before she’d fallen asleep? She didn’t even remember climbing up to her tower, let alone talking to the diary. Then again, she _was_ writing to Tom so often that it was beginning to become impossible for her to keep track of _every_ conversation they had.

No one else was in the dormitory, Ariel realized as she rose. Katie, Sally, and Sarah were nowhere to be found, but she rarely spoke to them anyway. They were all on the Quidditch team and about as obsessed as Ron and Harry were. Odds were that Oliver Wood had them practicing before the first game of the season. Fred and George constantly complained about him scheduling weird times for practice.

“Ariel!” A high pitched voice called through the door, “Professor S-Snape is outside the portrait… he’s asking for you to come out.”

Hermione? Dad? What were they –

“More like demanding.” another voice muttered — Ron. “He’s got some nerve, asking for her when she’s with her _House.”_

“He’s a _professor,_ Ronald.” Hermione hissed back in a put upon voice, “He can do whatever he wants.”

Ariel felt her skin prick as she looked around wildly, struggling to recall when she’d left the library, but all she could think of was Tom urging her to take a break, her head hitting the desk, and then…

Nothing. Her mind went blank.

There was more knocking, “Ariel, he’s threatening to come up here himself.”

_What?_ Ariel let out an aggravated groan, wondering what had put her father in such a foul mood that he thought it wise to come and demand her in front of all of bloody Gryffindor. Wasn’t their relationship supposed to be a _secret,_ anyway? Severus had been gone before she’d awoken this morning to prepare for an exam his NEWT students had…

Madam Pomfrey! Oh gods, she hadn’t gone to see Pomfrey, _and_ she was supposed to be grounded! He’d told her that last night!

_Shit shit shit_

“I’m coming!” Ariel barked, quickly grabbing the diary and the cloak, which had fallen in a huddle at the foot of her bed. She dashed to the door, shoving past a puzzled Hermione and a miffed Ron, and tried to ignore the stares of the Gryffindors in the common room as she hopped through the portrait hole and nearly crashed straight into her father.

There was a vein pulsing violently in his forehead and a razor sharp edge to his black eyes. Something told Ariel that he’d been looking for her for a while, and every time she didn’t turn up, his patience had waned more and more.

“I’m —” Ariel tried to apologize, but Severus wasn’t having it. He grabbed the back of her neck and began to drag her down the staircase without a single word.

She felt herself beginning to grow angry as he pulled her along, wondering _why_ he felt the need to confine her to his quarters, _again._ So she’d used a spell that she wasn’t supposed to know… and _so what if_ she wasn’t feeling well? This wasn’t like last year when Voldemort had been lurking around Hogwarts. Ariel certainly _wasn’t_ going to older students for help and giving them some kind of payment like her father believed her to be. She was _technically_ telling the truth about reading _Reducto_ in a book.

As soon as her father slammed the door behind them, he forced her into a chair and raised his wand. Ariel sighed as Severus performed a Diagnostic spell on her, wondering why he hadn’t just done one in the first place if he thought her so terribly ill.

His nostrils flared as the tip of her wand glowed white – a signal that she was fine. Severus threw himself to his feet and stalked away as Ariel rose, glaring at his back.

“You promised me if something was wrong, you would come and tell me.” She heard him rumble as he leaned against the side of the desk, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Nothing _is_ wrong!” She groaned. Well, save the chunks of bloody time missing, but if nothing had showed up on the Diagnostic… maybe she was just _that_ tired.

“Then why did you not go to the infirmary as I instructed?” Severus demanded, turning to give her what she could only describe as a look of complete and utter condemnation.

“I fell asleep.” Ariel told him, “I lost track of time… I…”

_“Then_ explain your _behavior_ as of late!” Her father was suddenly inches away from her face, searching her eyes with a terrifying intensity.

She gulped, the diary on the tip on her tongue once more. Tom and his spells and the strange lapse in memory… but her throat constricted tightly, like it had last night. Ariel struggled to fight past it, but the truth seemed to sink someplace deep within herself that she couldn’t reach, no matter how hard she tried to grab onto it and pull it with her to the surface.

_Convince him,_ something inside her breathed.

“If you think I’ll do what I did last year,” Ariel said instead, “I won’t. I don’t want to argue with you anymore. I _swear_ that I’m not getting lessons or tips from anyone, and I didn’t still some acorn out of your desk.” She let her eyes widened up at him, willing herself to look as innocent as humanly possible, even though underneath her justification for lying, her stomach lurched.

Severus glowered at her for another couple of seconds before letting out a great sigh. Ariel could physically see some of her tension and fury leave his shoulders, the claws at his sides uncurling. His glare withered, though it looked like he was reluctant, like he didn’t really _want_ to believe her, but he hadn’t any choice.

“I’m feeling much better, anyhow.” Ariel reassured him — _liar liar liar._

“No more showing off in Lockhart’s class.” Her father told her sternly, his eyes still reflecting the light. They didn’t even seem to be looking at her, or more, right through her, like her secrets would come oozing out at his apparent surrender.

“What happens if he leaves us alone with another monster?” She countered, giving him a look that clearly stated she had no intentions of letting herself become lunch.

“You come and get me.” Severus snapped, turning on his heel and disappearing into his study.

Ariel had noticed that since the red cap incident, Lockhart had sat as far he could from her father at meals. In class, he only lectured, but some of the boisterous bragging had seemed to have died away. He no longer singled her out, either, and for that, she thanked Severus to the moon and back. It wasn’t likely that Lockhart was going to make the same mistake twice.

She tilted her head in agreement even though Severus did not wait for a response, situating herself more comfortably in the chair now that she seemed to be out of the immediate firing line. 

A moment later her swept back through, teaching robes on, billowing behind him as he reached for the door.

“Back here the moment your classes finish, young lady,” Severus ordered, pointing a threatening finger at her.

Ariel let out a sigh as the door slammed shut. She felt horrible for thinking it, but in that moment, she wished that she could be anywhere but near her father.

* * *

Severus knew what paranoia felt like, and this was not it.

He couldn’t help but watch his daughter through the door she’d left cracked open, barely enough for him to see her from his desk. A pile of essays lay to his left, ungraded and, even with all of his concentration and will, Severus couldn’t bring himself to start them. The girl –

She was fine.

She _wasn’t._

He almost wanted to go to Dumbledore and make _him_ shower him in the usual nonsense he gave to him when they spoke, but Severus wasn’t that desperate _yet._ It was this low, burning feeling, deep in the pit of his stomach. Was it Lockhart? Was it the boy? Bellatrix’s brat? Malfoy? Granger? Weasley? _Himself?_

There was just such a strange look in her eyes, like they were hollowed out. Ariel didn’t look like that. Ariel _annoyed_ him with how open and talkative she was. She was everywhere, wanting to know everything. After Lucius had come the other day, he’d expected her _hound him_ until he gave her _something,_ but she hadn’t once mentioned it, like she’d somehow forgotten. Her eyes held something _his_ never could.

The threat had left something dangerous and unyielding unfolding in his mind, for the man who had dared threaten his child so openly —

“Goodnight,” Ariel called from the doorway, jerking his attention back to the present. She had that blasted notebook tucked under her arm, and for some unknown reason, Severus felt a twinge of annoyance at it.

Severus wanted to ask again, ask until she finally gave him _something._ She didn’t lie to him… she never had, really. Last year Ariel had been open with discussing the Stone and the year prior with her scar…

He didn’t know who to fear more; his daughter, or Lucius. At least one of them he could rip open bowel to sternum, but the other… it pained him to upset her, and that was what terrified him.

He could not fight an enemy that would not show itself.

* * *

It was definitely her mother, but she did not look as old as she was when she had died. Here, she looked to be about fifteen or sixteen. She was cloaked in a hood that whispered about her, like the night itself had covered her. Lily’s hair, that wine red, fell about her shoulders like rolls of silk, and she held herself with air that was not the normal comfort Ariel had expected her to radiate.

She reached out for her mum, recoiling her hand when Lily’s green eyes, the exact color and shape of Harry’s, narrowed and flashed.

“You know something is wrong.” Lily said to her, a tightness in her voice that Ariel had heard in Petunia’s, “You know what it is.”

“What?” Ariel asked, confused. She reached again, but her mum held up a hand up to stop her.

“Tell him.” She hissed, “Tell him, before it’s too late.”

Not understanding her mother’s hostility, Ariel let her hands drop to her sides. She couldn’t feel them, but she could feel a growing ache in her chest. It was slowly crescendoing into a burn, one that worked its way up her throat and seared her eyes…

“Who?” Ariel forced out, the pain traveling along her jaw.

“Tell him,” Lily’s eyes softened suddenly, desperate and fierce and full of starlight, “before it’s too late. _Tell him.”_

Bewildered, Ariel tried to ask again, but the burn had worked its way to the center of her sternum.

The ends of her mum’s hair began to grow, and somewhere in the distance, someone was screaming. The hair curled and wove its way around her until her face was hidden. Ariel cried out, jerking forward to help her, but a rushing wind knocked her to the ground. It tangled in with Lily’s hair, until nothing was left but the outline of a person, who was quickly filled in with a swirl of color. Ariel could hear laughter.

She was staring at the back of Quirrell’s head, red eyes and a sneer painted on the white canvas orb that was Voldemort.

“Now,” said the voice, like a mouth full of ash, “my work, renewed.”

Ariel couldn’t help but awake with a shriek. As soon as she shouted, however, she instantly regretted it, throwing a hand over her mouth and trying to stifle her rapid breathing. She could already hear her father’s bedroom door being thrown open.

She wrapped her arms around herself to try and stop the shaking.

With a deafening _bang,_ her bedroom door hit the wall and her father was hovering over her.

“What happened?” For someone who had most likely been sleeping just moments ago, Severus looked far too alert. His fingers were holding her face and her scar, and then, inspecting her arms and neck and…

“Nightmare,” Ariel pushed him away, taking a deep, uneven gulp of air, “it was just a nightmare. M’sorry I woke you.”

“That was _not_ a nightmare!” He snarled, turning the lights on with the flick of his hand, “You sounded like you were in _pain.”_

All the concern she was sure she’d squashed out before was now plastered all over her father’s face and leaving her feeling as though she was sinking. Ariel couldn’t get the picture of her mother out of her head… her eyes accusing and condemning, but fearful…

It was never good if her father looked this upset. Surely Ariel hadn’t been _that_ loud.

“You sounded like…” He shook his head and bowed it, so that Ariel was momentarily looking at the top of it.

“Sorry,” She whispered again, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Severus made a noise in the back of his throat. When he finally looked back at her, his eyes were tired. A hand was resting against her cheek and Ariel felt herself lean into it.

“Do you want Dreamless Sleep?” He asked her, moving to stand up.

“Can you just stay?” Ariel grabbed the ends of his nightshirt to stop him, “Just for a minute?”

Her father nodded, shortly, watching her with a newfound concentration. Ariel gathered the sheets around her, wishing she’d spent the night in Gryffindor Tower instead.

“You haven’t yelled out like that since you were little.” said Severus.

“It was a bad nightmare.” Ariel muttered, shuddering. Her mother’s eyes holding such disappointment… such anger, but with a hopelessness that made Ariel feel like her heart would surely collapse in on itself.

_Tell him,_ her mum had said.

“Mum…” Ariel started, but something stopped her. The cramping wrapped its tendrils around her vocal chords, choking her speech into what Severus misconstrued as a cry, and suddenly, she had her head buried against his shoulder.

For once, her father’s embrace made her feel worse, like she was taking something that wasn’t hers, and her mother’s eyes filled her vision behind closed lids.

* * *

It had been a long time since Ariel had come to her rock in the forest — almost a year, to be exact. As she and Damon climbed through the thicket and overgrowth that had taken over their foot-made pathway, the realization hit her, and Ariel felt a twinge of sadness. She’d forgotten how much she’d loved it, loved spending her free time with Damon here, how their first year, they’d spent _hours_ on this rock, just laying in complete silence, or doing their homework, or talking about their futures and aspirations, their problems… 

“We are _not_ doing this in the dead of winter.” Damon warned as they hopped over a fallen tree branch, “I froze my arse off last year searching for you here, and there’s no way in hell I’m _willingly_ doing it again.”

“What a shame,” Ariel teased, “I was planning on holding your Christmas surprise out here.”

“You’re not funny.”

“On the contrary, I think I’m _very_ amusing.”

“It’ll be a wonder if Harry finds this place alright.” Damon muttered, holding his arms out to steady himself, “We should have waited for him.”

“He’ll be fine.” She waved him off, giggling as he stumbled. She held a hand out to him, securing her own footing in place as Damon glared and reluctantly accepted the help.

“I’ve never asked how you even found this bloody place.” He sighed in relief as they reached the clearing, looking out over the steep drop that their boulder overlooked, “Did you find it first year?”

Ariel smiled at the memory, looking out at the evergreens and firs that lined the great expanse she’d loved to look out at as a child. Falls and springs were when most of her time had been spent at the rock as a child, since it was the only time her father would permit her to tag along. Summers had been spent at Spinner’s End, and winters were far too harsh. Severus often went into the Forbidden Forest to gather herbs and plants for potions, since it supplied such rare and magical ingredients that were hard to find anywhere else. He always thought it a great waste to _buy_ what he knew what was quite literally in their home-away-from-home backyard.

Ariel had found the rock while her father had been searching for Legrand mushrooms. She’d wandered only a couple of feet away, but it had been enough for a single panicked shout of her name for him for her to realize that it probably hadn’t been a good idea. She’d always come back to it, loving the view from the top, despite the fact that Severus had scolded her for nearly breaking her neck every time, even though Ariel was never anywhere _near_ actually falling off of it.

“No, when I was little.” Ariel said quietly, picturing herself sitting at the edge and swinging her legs. She could see Severus stalking to the scene and scowling down at her as she smiled up at him.

Damon made an amused sound. She turned to look back at him, finding that he was smirking at the trees she’d Hexed the bark off last year after Christmas… after the truth had finally come out.

“I have to tell you something.” Ariel told him, seating herself down on the ground, throwing her satchel containing Tom’s diary into the grass.

Damon raised an eyebrow, not moving to join her, “Shouldn’t we wait for Harry?”

She shook her head and bit her lip, feeling a bit guilty. Her nightmares about their mum didn’t seem like something Harry would want, or needed, to hear from her. The last thing Ariel wanted was to _upset_ her brother with something like this. Harry was so happy these days, with his place on the Slytherin team secure and his friends… even she and him were closer. There wasn’t a day that went by where they didn’t see one another, so unlike last year. No lies… no secrets… except for the one Ariel knew was far better than the truth.

And the diary.

Now Damon looked curious, gently letting himself down next to her, gesturing for her to continue.

“Your uncle was here the day before Quidditch tryouts.” She said in a quiet voice.

His face went a shade lighter. Ariel gave him an apologetic look as his blue eyes turned into slits, and his knuckles went as white as snow.

“You _saw_ him?” Damon looked torn, shaking his head, “You didn’t speak to him again, did you? You _promised –”_

“Of course not!” Ariel snapped at him, wondering why when she spoke of Lucius Malfoy to her best mate, she felt like she was talking to her father, “He came to see my dad. I was in my room and overheard the conversation.”

“I’d bet my new Nimbus he was here for Quidditch.” He deflated a bit, “Draco probably wrote and asked him to make sure… the little –”

“Lucius said there was something coming.” She interrupted, feeling that newfound familiar burn in the back of her airway.

Damon had begun to glare murderously at the ground, but at Ariel’s words, his head snapped up faster than normal. His eyes lost their anger, leaving behind a frostiness that infected Ariel herself, down to the bone. The muscles in his face were taut… his breathing quickening.

_“What_ is coming?” He whispered.

“I don't know… he wouldn’t say.”

“What did he tell Snape?”

“He didn’t.”

“Then what _did_ he say?”

“All Lucius said was that I would learn my lesson soon enough.” Ariel pulled her cloak tighter around her and averted her dark eyes back to the chasm.

Now he looked thoroughly horrified. Shit.

“He’s probably just running his mouth.” Ariel reassured him quickly, grabbing his arm and giving it a comforting squeeze, “Dad says he does that a lot… I just thought that… if he _wasn’t…_ maybe you’d noticed something over the summer…”

“And you thought _I_ would know if my uncle was planning some evil scheme?” Damon looked too shocked to appear angry, but she could have the pang of hurt in his voice.

“No, Damon! Merlin, I didn’t mean…”

“Why don’t you want to tell Harry, then?” Damon demanded.

“Because he’s _your_ uncle and I figured you might want to have some say in who I do and don’t tell!” Ariel snapped, crossing her arms, “Secrets work both ways, Damon.”

All the emotions fighting one another melted off his face at her words. Damon stared down at the rock below their feet, his eye slowly filling with a calculating look that made Ariel sigh in frustration.

“Did your father mention anything about it?” He asked quietly. Something about his demeanor told Ariel he was somehow ashamed.

“He doesn’t know I heard.” Ariel shook her head, “I… I would ask about it, but things have been…” She swallowed, “Have you noticed anything strange lately?

Damon blinked at her, “Should I?”

“No…” She rubbed the bridge of her nose and tried to keep her building sinking feeling from leaking into her voice, “I’ve just been feeling weird lately. I had this dream last night and I can’t help but think there’s something more to it…”

He went quiet, like he always did when he could tell that Ariel wasn’t done. He had a special way of knowing when not to say anything, so unlike her. She always seemed to say the wrong things, especially when it came to her father.

“I dreamt about my mum.” Ariel brought her knees up under her chin, “She was mad at me because she thought I was… she acted like I was doing something wrong and I should fess up.”

_“Have_ you?” Damon quirked an eyebrow at her.

The first thought that popped into her was the diary, which seemed to be in the part of her mind labeled _guilty conscious,_ right next to keeping the truth about Severus being her biological father from Harry. The difference, however, between the two was that Tom was harmless and her lineage would most likely make Harry hate her. Ariel considered telling Damon about Tom for a moment, but decided that it wasn’t fair to saddle him with so many things he’d have to keep to himself despite the fact that he and Harry were good friends. No, the less people knew about the diary, the better. Ariel could see Damon getting annoyed with her over it, anyways.

Something white hot and aching pressed against her throat, sending her into a fitful of coughs that took a moment to overcome.

“No, I haven’t.” Ariel said with a bit of an edge, holding her stomach.

“So you had a dream about your mum.” Damon shrugged, “I don’t see the big deal. I have nightmares about mine, too. It doesn’t mean they have any actual meaning.”

“It’s different.” She shook her head, “It was… some kind of warning. She turned into Voldemort and he said what he began was starting up again…”

_Tell him,_ Lily had said.

“He can’t do anything with Dumbledore here,” Damon bit his lip, “can he?”

“Who can’t?” Harry’s voice interrupted.

He emerged from the brush, a twig sticking out of his unruly, raven black hair. The sight made Ariel giggle, though instead of shifting the mood, to her, she felt a bit hollow, like the amusing sight hadn’t given her what it usually did. There was no glow, no tension and worry melting away at the sight of Harry.

Ariel asked Damon with her eyes if she could tell Harry, and he gave her the smallest of nods.

They delved into the story, though Ariel left out the part about the nightmare. She felt it right, and was thankful that Damon agreed, to tell Harry, seeing as Draco was Lucius’ son, and if anyone was bound to know something, it would be him. Still, as Ariel told Harry what she’d briefly overheard, she wondered why Damon was so different from his family, and found her mind wandering to the doubts her father continually expressed over her dearest friend.

Something akin to recognition, or perhaps it was realization, like up his emerald eyes as they relayed the events. “Now that you mention it…” Harry’s eyebrows furrowed together in deep thought, “Draco _has_ been bragging a bit about Mudbloods…”

Both Ariel and Damon hissed at the word. She felt her entire being stiffen at it.

_I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!_

“What?” Harry looked alarmed, _“He_ said it, not me! I don’t even know what it means!”

“It’s a terrible thing to say to someone!” Ariel snapped, “You should have Hexed him!”

“He’s careful not to say it around you.” Harry motioned to Damon with his hand. He rolled his eyes and leaned back on the pads of his hands.

“It means _dirty blood.”_ She told him, “It’s an awful thing to call someone who’s Muggleborn.”

“Like Hermione?” Harry asked.

“Exactly.” Ariel nodded.

“So… do the Malfoys not _like_ Muggleborns?”

Damon snorted at this. Harry gave him an apologetic look, “Sorry.”

“Don’t,” He waved him off, “it’s what most of the Pureblood families believe. They think Muggles are inferior, that magical blood should be kept between magical families. That’s why you have so much inbreeding.”

Harry made a face, “Gross.”

“Has Draco mentioned anything you, then?” Ariel pried, “Threatened… insinuated… bragged…?”

“I mean he’s always threatening us.” Harry rolled his eyes, “But he hasn’t been especially giddy lately, if that’s what you’re asking. It doesn’t _seem_ like he knows about whatever Lucius is planning. Didn’t _Snape_ say something?”

“He can’t exactly _demand information.”_

“Why not? It’s not like they’re friends or something.”

Ariel and Damon exchanged an uneasy look. Harry’s eyes widened.

_“Are they?”_ He asked, a bit disbelieving.

“He says he goes there to make sure they’re not up to something they’re not supposed to be.” Ariel shrugged, fighting the nausea that came with thinking of her father as a Death Eater. Along with Severus being her _real_ father, she wasn’t going to tell Harry about _that_ either… or at least, not just yet.

“So what do we do?” Harry asked her, looking frustrated.

Damon blinked, “There isn’t anything _to_ do.”

“But Lucius…”

“If it was worth anything, I’m sure Dad would have said something.” Ariel bit her lip and looked away, wondering if those words were true. They had to be. He’d promised not to keep secrets from her.

_Unless they applied to her safety._

Dammit.

“Well…” Damon trailed off, and then, looked back up at the both of them, “in other news, Flint’s just told me I’m the new Slytherin Keeper, if anyone’s interested.”

Her heart should have soared for him as her brother’s face broke into a triumphant grin, but it stayed where it was, far below the surface of the earth and then some.

* * *

The voice had been haunting Harry’s dreams for several nights now. It came and went, flowing through at points where it hadn’t a place – in the air as he soared, sending him spiraling to the ground; a vision of Snape catching him snooping through his quarters, just as he was caught; and perhaps the most troubling being his sister begging Harry for something, but not knowing what Ariel needed.

He wondered if he should ask Snape for some Dreamless Sleep, but Madam Pomfrey seemed like the more likely bet. But then again, what was stopping her from telling Snape Harry had asked? The man knew how to get the truth out of people even if _they_ didn’t realize there was even a truth _there,_ and the last thing Harry needed was for Snape to think he had a screw loose.

He couldn’t shake it from his head. It seemed to have crawled deep inside of him and made itself at home… a thing that Harry knew _definitely_ shouldn’t be there, but he couldn’t figure out what the hell it had been, or if he’d actually heard it.

Perhaps the idea was intimating because Snape was just across the room. Harry and Ariel were sitting in front of the fireplace, quietly doing their schoolwork. He felt the acorn in his pocket, where it had stayed since he’d stolen it from Snape’s drawer, and felt himself calm a little.

Snape got up, suddenly, actually pulling both Harry and Ariel’s needlelike gaze to him. He jerked his cloak off of the hook in front of the door, sending them both a stern look that clearly told them not to blow up his quarters.

“Where’re you going?” Ariel called.

“Madam Pomfrey is summoning me.” Snape jerked the door open, his black eyes going to Harry, “I don’t doubt it most likely has to do with a Slytherin.”

Harry went back to his book, feeling his cheeks redden a bit. He had a feeling Snape thought he’d know if something had happened, but even if Harry _did,_ he wouldn’t dare play snitch. He glanced back to his sister, who was settling back into the couch, and then back to Snape.

The professor’s eyes were watching Ariel, like they always seemed to, and then, with a tilt of his head in acknowledgment of Harry, he was gone.

Harry set back to his homework, grateful for the peace and quiet Snape’s quarters, however awkward at times, offered him and his sister. Whenever he tried to study with Ron, they usually ended up goofing off, and with Hermione, they _both_ ended up with a lecture. Ariel couldn’t stand Hermione when it came to academics, so she never joined in with them. Damon was alright enough, but he didn’t really care about his studies, which drove his sister up a wall at times. He was the kind of smart where he didn’t need to put much work in to get a good grade.

Harry was just about to get started on an essay about Stasis Charms when he realized he hadn’t anything to write with.

“Damn,” Harry glanced to Ariel, who was still writing down in that notebook of hers, “do you have a spare ink pot?”

She nodded, her lips moving wordlessly with whatever she was writing. He’d noticed that most of her time seemed to go into the notebook lately. Harry wondered what in Merlin’s name she could be writing that consumed all of her time, but then again, Ariel had told him she’d taken on a hefty schedule.

He raised an eyebrow when Ariel didn’t verbally respond, “Are you going to tell me _where?”_

“Bedroom.” Ariel said, something sharp and precise in that single word. Harry frowned at her, watching as her eyes swept across the pages, pressing the quill to the parchment with so much force that Harry was quite sure she’d snap it in two.

Harry sighed and hopped off the sofa, not bothering to question her seemingly obsessive behavior further. Her room seemed to be in it’s usual state of disarray – he wondered if Ariel left clothes on the floor to purposely annoy Snape, or if the house elves picked them up for her. 

And then Harry stopped short and looked around, a sly look spreading across his face.

Snape was gone. Ariel was occupied. Which _meant_ that his snooping could resume, uninterrupted. He hadn’t returned the acorn – _why_ , he did not know – but he doubted _Snape_ had missed it. Maybe Ariel had given it to him as a gift when she’d been very little or something and he hadn’t bothered to get rid of it.

The nightstand drawers were his first and only target. Harry pulled the top one open, trying to be as quiet as humanly possible as he shifted through Ariel’s things. There wasn’t much, really. Broken quills and an empty ink pot or two, much like Snape’s junk drawer. Harry rolled his eyes as the phrase, _like father, like adopted-daughter,_ flashed through his mind.

He shoved everything aside, desperately trying to be quiet as possible. Harry threw a look over his shoulder to check on Ariel, whose head was still bent low.

His hands grazed through, about to give up when he turned over what appeared to be a stack of parchment, years old, by the looks of it, and unused. There was something beneath them, a different kind of material…

They were pictures.

Harry grabbed them, falling against Ariel’s bed as he glanced through the still open doorway. Her back was turned to him, still not having noticed that he hadn’t returned.

What was she _doing?_

He shook his head, pushing away the irrelevant inquisition his mind involuntary made. He had such limited time…

Harry flipped over the stack of white parchment, feeling something lodge into his throat, throbbing painfully.

It was their mum, holding Ariel, who must have been two. It wasn’t a magical picture, for they didn’t smile or wave up at him. Their mum’s hair was hanging in a curtain around his sister, who was reaching up, head thrown back and eyes closed in what was undoubtedly a laugh…

As he stared down at his mum, Harry couldn’t help but wonder if Snape had lied about knowing her. Maybe he’d only told them that to soften the blow of hating their dad. Why would Snape still care about someone who had fallen in love with a man he’d seemingly hated so much? Were looks really _all_ Snape saw in Harry, saw in Ariel?

The next was the same as the first, still and a single moment in time, only this time, it was only Harry and Ariel. Whoever had taken the picture had set them up in front of a Christmas tree, Ariel scowling at the camera as baby Harry’s hands grabbed the ends of a tree branch. Had this been a Christmas card?

The next one, Harry wasn’t expecting in the slightest.

Ariel was a little older here than the previous photos – maybe four or five. This one was magical, for Harry watched as Ariel scrambled to climb Snape’s robes as he looked down with a scowl that didn’t quite reach his eyes…

He flipped it over and threw them back into the drawer, slamming it shut with more force than necessary. The ache in his throat grew, but Harry fought at it with all his might. He wondered why it had bothered him so much. It had been a whole two years… this wasn’t supposed to _affect him_ anymore. Snape didn’t even _like him._ Why should he care… whether it was fair or not… he’d been asking for it, snooping through Ariel’s things, hadn't he? She was allowed to have pictures of the man she called dad, didn’t she?

Why had he even bothered to search Ariel’s room? It’s not like _she_ was the one with secrets.

Well, until he could try again, Harry had Quidditch to look forward to, Draco Malfoy buying his way on the bloody team or not. And with that, Harry rejoined his sister, who once again did not acknowledge his presence, but continued to write.

* * *

Severus knew Quidditch was a fucking waste of everyone’s time as shouts reached his ears the following day.

_“BITE ME, MALFOY!”_ Potter’s voice roared across the Quidditch pitch.

“I can’t get them to listen at all, sir.” Flint was grumbling, like the Malfoy-Potter feud was somehow a direct insult to _him,_ “We had to pull Potter off Malfoy before, but in all fairness, Malfoy _did_ try and knock him off his broom.”

Severus almost gave him an empathetic look, but quickly smothered it. This was no one’s fault but his own. Putting Potter and Malfoy on the same team, forcing them to work _together,_ when it was well known throughout the school that the boys were at each other’s throats continuously, was necessary, but a very, _very_ bad idea. Severus hadn’t a clue how they were going to withstand the next five years, let alone _himself._ He could already feel a migraine coming on as he watched Bellatrix’s brat grab Potter’s shoulders and began to drag him away. Draco was sneering, taunting in a low voice Severus couldn’t make out.

This was not worth Nimbus 2001’s. This wasn’t worth _anything_ if Severus had to babysit every Quidditch practice. The games…

Dear Merlin, what had he done? Potter would impale Malfoy with his broom before the week was out.

“C’mon, _Potty!”_ Malfoy was jeering, “What’s wrong? Can’t take a little turbulence?”

“I can handle a little wind!” Potter shouted back, still being held in place by Bellatrix’s son, “Maybe I couldn’t see anything from behind your BIG FAT HEAD!”

“Enough!” Severus barked at them, demanding their attention with a single vicious glare between the two of them.

Potter immediately ceased struggling and looked at Severus, those blasted green eyes shining with contempt and a hint of hopefulness, though at what, Severus couldn’t tell. Malfoy’s eyes fell to the ground as he toed it, shooting Potter half-hearted glares.

“The both of you are going to cost this team the House Cup.” He continued in a dangerous voice, “Your personal differences cannot get in the way of this team. Slytherin house sticks _together_ to strive towards a larger goal, and right now, the both of you are _hindering that.”_ His eyes went to Malfoy, “If I hear about you trying to knock a student off a broom, I will knock your head off your shoulders, and _you,”_ He was looking at Potter now, “will _control your temper,_ or so help me, you _both_ will be suspended from playing until you can learn to work together. Is that understood?”

They were both bristling, but looked horrified at the prospect of not playing. There were two jerky nods and mumbles of _“yes, sir.”_

“Splendid.” Severus said flatly, beckoning a crooked finger to Potter, “You. With me, _now.”_

“Why _me?”_ Potter cried, anger flashing through his eyes as the Nimbus Severus’ had bought him just last year tightened in his grip.

“Because I don’t think either of you will survive more time together this evening.” He snapped at him, “And Mr Malfoy requires more practice and training, seeing as he is new to the team. He will benefit more than you. Your position requires little participation from other teammates, does it not?”

Malfoy was smirking smugly, and Severus found himself wanting to Hex it off. Potter looked dejected, but gave a sulky nod and stalked himself forward, the broom dragging behind him. Severus nearly rolled his eyes. Honestly, the brat acted as though he’d just kicked him off the team.

“Alright,” Flint sighed as Severus turned his back, motioning for the boy to follow, “now, I want to work on formation, because last year, Gryffindor _clobbered_ us. We need to be more organized…”

Guiding Potter back up to the castle, Severus noted that the sky seemed to have darkened rather quickly. The weather had been quite tolerable for October, the clouds lasting for only a few hours before the sunlight eventually broke through. Many of the students had spent their time outside, giving Severus peace and quiet during the weekends instead of having to deal with hoards of the little cretins in the hallways. Today, however, signaled the beginnings of winter with the cold bite in the air and the absence of warmth for the first time in months.

“He shouldn’t even be on the bloody team.” Potter muttered to him once they were out of earshot, heading up the dirt path to the school, “He doesn’t know the first thing… just because his _father –”_

“You’re letting your dislike for him cloud your judgement.” Severus sighed. Wasn’t this obvious? “Draco is quite talented on a broom.”

“Then why was he trying to _knock me off mine?”_ Potter demanded, a red flush filling in his cheeks.

“Because he enjoys getting a rise out of you. Your temper, when it comes to him, seems to be rather easily ignited. It’s very unbecoming for a Slytherin, you know.”

“So now I’m a bad Slytherin?” Potter demanded angrily.

“I was being sarcastic, Mr Potter.”

“Oh.” The boy looked away, seemingly ashamed. Severus blinked uncomprehendingly and tried to recall a time when his father had ever looked like that. He was silent after that, seemingly deep in thought as Severus escorted him down to the dungeons before dinner.

Potter stopped, suddenly. Severus kept walking, hoping the boy was just fixing his robes, but when the _scrape scrape scrape_ of Potter’s boots did not reach his ears once more, he stopped as well.

“Potter –” Severus began, preparing himself to grab the brat and drag him down to the dungeons himself.

The green eyed urchin shushed him, to Severus’ shock. It quickly turned to a simmering fury, one that caused his lip to curl and and shoot forward only to have the boy hold up a cautioning hand to him, _“Wait!”_

Severus was about to take the boy into a chokehold when he caught sight of Potter’s face. It had gone bloodless, his eyes shining in the late afternoon light that cast shadows about the corridor.

“Do you hear it?” Potter rasped, hurrying over to him. Severus got the impression he wanted to hide behind him.

“Hear _what,_ Potter?” He rolled his eyes, “There’s no one here but us.”

“I…” He put his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut, “It’s… it’s going to _hurt_ someone!”

Now positively bewildered, and worry mounting at the boy’s appalling behavior, Severus grabbed his collar and bent down to look him in the eye, “What in Merlin’s name are you –”

And then Potter’s eyes snapped open, jerking from Severus’ grasped, and bolted down the corridor.

“POTTER!” Severus roared as the boy rounded the corner, out of his sight. He darted after him, swearing death upon his capture. The boy was hurtling several paces ahead of him, ignoring Severus’ calls, and then suddenly, Potter screeched to a halt, his hands reaching for his neck –

“Sir!” Potter wheezed, but Severus saw it the same time he did.

Something was shining on the wall in front of them, illuminated by the dim torchlight. Severus squinted through the darkness, shoving Potter behind him, his mouth going a bit dry at the words written across the bricks.

_The Chamber has been opened,_ it read, _enemies of the heir, beware._

“What… what is _that?”_ Potter whispered, pointing to something floating midair beside the words.

Severus pressed a hand against the boy’s chest so that he was fully behind him and took a step closer. There was a large puddle of water on the floor. He stepped around it, raising his wand defensively as the unidentified shape came into view.

It was Filch’s _cat,_ hanging by her tail from a torch bracket. Severus let out a breath, his mind already drawing conclusions. One of the students must be playing a prank — a cruel one at that. Filch would go mad once he saw what had happened to the furball…

“Wha… what’s wrong with her?” Potter tugged at his robes, “Is she dead?”

Severus tapped her with the tap of her wand as the body slowly spun around. Her eyes were wide and unseeing, like glass preserved through centuries, her body rigid, stiff as a board…

“No,” He said in a soft voice, backing away several steps, “she’s been Petrified.”

“She’s been _what?”_ The boy asked, inching closer from around Severus’ tall frame, “Shouldn’t we try and help her?”

“There’s nothing you can do.” He told him shortly, “Come, we mustn’t —”

And then the last sound he wanted to hear met his ears – the chatter and bustle of a crowd of students, undoubtedly heading to the Great Hall for dinner. Severus gritted his teeth, knowing that now he couldn’t _possibly_ leave and let the students begin doing Merlin knew what to the scene. He needed to get to Dumbledore and speak to him…

First on the scene was a small group of Gryffindors, followed closely by assorted Slytherins and Hufflepuffs. Granger and Weasley were among the throng of beasts, their eager faces quickly clouding over in confusion, and then horror at the scene.

“The Chamber…?” Granger piped up, giving Potter incredulous eyes, like he’d somehow know the answer, “What does that mean?”

“There’s nothing to see here.” Severus snarled at all of them, waving them away with a menacing sneer for good measure, “Off to dinner, the lot of you!”

“But Professor –” Granger’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

“Five points from Gryffindor for insubordination!” He snapped at her, “Now, get out of my sight before you end up gutting toads every weekend for the next month!”

They scrambled, scurrying away as Weasley and Granger gave Potter doe eyes filled with worry and concern that made Severus’ gums itch. Nosy little brats.

“What’s going on here?” A voice, the _last_ voice that Severus needed right now, called over the commotion, “What were you all doing? What’s –”

Filch came into view, and Severus shoved Potter behind him, stifling a groan as the Squib clutched his face in horror.

“My _CAT!”_ He shrieked, “What have you done? What did those —”

“Argus!” To Severus’ relief, Dumbledore came whirling around the corner, closely followed by Minerva, midnight blue robes swishing in the wind.

“What did you do?” Filch screeched when he caught sight of Potter peeking from around Severus’ robes, “You killed my cat! I’ll _kill you!_ I’ll —”

“I was with Mr Potter.” Severus drawled in a rather bored sort of voice, “I could not have been him, and even then, I doubt that he possesses the ability to _Petrify_ your pet, Filch.” He turned to the Headmaster, “Unless the rest of the staff would like to make any more outlandish accusations, I’d like to escort Mr Potter to his dormitory.”

“Then he must know who done it!” Filch screamed, half mad, as Severus predicted, “One of those little _brats —”_

“She is not dead, Argus.” Dumbledore’s crooked nose was inches from the cat’s body, “Only Petrified.” He looked at him over half-moon spectacles, “Did you find her, Severus?”

He gave a nod, but offered nothing more. He wanted to speak to Potter himself before he informed the Headmaster of everything, and he certainly wasn’t going to start _that_ conversation in front of Filch.

“Then you may go.” Dumbledore said, his voice suddenly weary, “Though I would like to speak to you in a short while, if it is convenient.”

“Of course. _Come.”_ Severus grabbed Potter’s shoulder tightly, and pulled him out into the darkness of the corridor. He didn’t say anything or object, looking like he’d seen a ghost, or perhaps something worse. Severus’ mind was muddled, wondering what in Merlin’s name would have _Petrified_ a living creature…

Severus stopped short and rounded on Potter just as they entered the underground.

“How did you know?” He gave him a small shake by the shoulders.

Thankfully, Potter didn’t ask what he was referring to, “I _heard_ it.”

“Heard _what?”_

“It was a voice…” Potter said in a very small voice, “I… the other night when you saw me in the corridor, I heard it too… I thought…”

“What did it _say,_ Potter?” Severus asked impatiently.

“It…” He shuddered, “It wanted to kill someone.”

Severus blinked. And then again. And again. How had _he_ not heard it, but the boy had? If whatever _voice_ Potter heard meant Filch’s cat, or had it been on the hunt for someone else, if it had indeed been real. Had it hurt another student? If a student had been by themselves…

_“She’ll learn her lesson soon enough.”_ Lucius had said.

_Ariel._

Gripping the boy’s shoulder, Severus practically flew them down to his quarters, throwing the door open as his eyes frantically searched for signs of her.

“What the —” Ariel’s voice called, alarmed, to his relief. He felt his chest loosen, and the blurred edges of his vision withered.

Ariel’s head popped up over the edge of the couch, looking disoriented. She had a funny look on her face, like she was still half asleep.

“What’s wrong?” She called as Severus walked over to her, “Did something happen?”

“Have you been here all this time?” He demanded, “You weren’t walking the corridors by yourself?”

“What?” Ariel rubbed at her eyes, where dark circles lay, “I’ve been asleep…”

“You didn’t see or hear anything unusual?”

“No… what…” She looked past him, to her brother, “What’s going on?”

“You will _stay here.”_ He ordered the both of them, ignoring her questions and trusting the boy to inform her, “Neither of you leave these rooms. Am I understood?”

There were two fearful nods in his direction. Severus quickly shed his cloak, giving them both of last glance before starting towards the fireplace, putting it out wordlessly.

“But what _chamber,_ sir?” Potter asked as Severus began to climb into the Floo to wait for Dumbledore in his office, “What did the message _mean?”_

He raised a hand to the mantle and gripped into tightly, grabbing a fistful of Floo powder in his hand, and felt some awful sense of foreboding enter his mind as the name sprang to his mind.

“The Chamber of Secrets.” Severus told them, and then, he was gone.

* * *

There was something oddly familiar about a Chamber of Secrets, Ariel couldn’t put her finger on, but then again, these days, many things seemed off to her as Harry told her what had happened.

_Her heart had fallen like a lead ball into her stomach, and Tom’s name had flashed into her mind at the mention of the message of the wall –_

Harry seemed jumpy, like he’d had some kind of terrible fright. They’d sat in front of the fire as they’d waited for her father to return, but as the clock struck eleven, they realized that it might be longer than anticipated, and resigned themselves to try and get some rest. Harry hadn’t spent the night since the beginning of last year, but when he did, he slept on the couches.

Ariel once again felt overwhelmingly exhausted as she climbed into her own bed, wondering if her father would wake her to tell her what was happening with Filch’s cat and the voice and the writing on the wall. Probably not. He’d seemed oddly jittery… like this had been something great and terrible and he didn’t know how to handle it. It was so unlike him, because Severus didn’t _get_ nervous.

She pulled the covers over her, wishing he had stayed, and froze.

Rooster feathers should _definitely not_ be in her bed. Rooster feathers shouldn’t be anywhere _near_ the dungeons. Ariel quickly cast a shaky _Scourgify,_ but continued to stare under the sheets. She racked her brain and tried to recall where she had gone for _feathers_ to anywhere _near here,_ but…

She couldn’t remember

anything,

_again._

Ariel threw the sheets back down on the bed and took a steadying breath. Her hands continued to tremble as she buried her face in them, squeezing her eyes shut and searched the blackness for her afternoon memories. Classes… a walk around the lake with Damon and Harry… seeing them off to practice… and then…

Nothing. Ariel couldn’t even recall coming back to her father’s quarters. Not falling asleep on the couch… not even _walking_ here. She’d gone to an alcove nearly the Astronomy Tower and written to Tom…

Tom –

“You okay?”

Ariel’s head snapped up to the doorway where her little brother was standing.

No it was… it was impossible.

“Harry.” She croaked, _the diary, Tom, the diary diary diary._

“What is it?” He frowned, walking further into the room.

Ariel physically flinched as the thought to tell Harry crossed her mind, like a whip being brandished. A warning. A sign.

Her eyes went to the diary — _Tom Tom Tom._

She shook her head at him, and turned off the lights, feeling a sudden wave of longing for her mum.

Instead, Ariel reached for Tom’s book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! Xx


	41. Sleepsong

“The boy heard a voice.” Severus told Dumbledore, very matter-of-factly, though his voice was strained under the weight of his words.

“A voice?” The Headmaster echoed, leaning forward, “Tell me.”

He told him about Potter standing in the middle of the corridor the first time, broom abandoned on the ground, and how he’d stared at the walls as though they would begin to speak their secrets any second. How an hour ago, Potter’s eyes – Lily’s eyes – had widened, how’d he taken off without a backwards glance, straight into Filch’s damn cat and the message scrawled across the wall with blood. The voice had been lurking, according to Potter… ready to kill…

Severus’ blood had run cold at the thought of the girl wandering alone… if she’d been alone when the attack had happened, because that was what that reckless, foolhardy child _did._

“Where was Ariel?” Dumbledore asked when he had finished, like he’d read Severus’ mind and known that his daughter was immediately to be followed up on.

“In my quarters, asleep.”

“You’re certain?”

“She doesn’t lie to me.” _Something had been off, something wrong wrong wrong_.

_“I promise.”_ Ariel had told him.

“And you haven’t seen Lucius since he visited you?” Dumbledore asked, his tone, for the first time in a very long time, was completely serious.

“No, and even if I had, I doubt he would have let on anything else.” Severus said, feeling his gums itch, “Though I find it even less likely that if he has been contacted by the Dark Lord.”

“This… _threat_ does concern me, Severus.”  Dumbledore sighed, looking older than when Severus had first entered the room, “If the Chamber has in fact been opened, I fear that the castle is no longer safe for the students.”

Severus had heard the legends, passed down every year in Slytherin. Lucius had been the one to tell his year of the monster that was supposedly hidden away in the darkest depths of the school, waiting to be woken by the one true Heir of Slytherin, who would purge the school. Many of them had scoffed at it, waving it off as a story told to first years to scare them, even though none of the Slytherins had anything to fear since Muggleborns were rarely Sorted there. Ridiculous, of course, until Lucius had one day told him in passing that the Chamber had been opened once before, and that it was likely it would be again.

The memory made his blood run cold, and suddenly he realized that for the first time since the first war, Lucius had not been bluffing.

_“She’ll learn her lesson soon enough.”_ He had said.

_“Nothing is wrong.”_ Ariel had told him.

“You think whoever is doing this,” Severus began slowly, “will attack _students.”_

“Nothing so grave.” Dumbledore shook his head, “For all we know, it could be just a cruel prank. There are several dark curses that could easily replicate, or even, in some cases, actually Petrify their victims.”

“But what student could fulfill such a feat?” Severus began to pace the length of his desk, “Half of them are so dimwitted that they don’t know their wand from a fork.”

Dumbledore’s lips twitched slightly, “I still find it fascinating that after all these years of teaching, you still don’t allow yourselves to see the potential in them.”

He nearly rolled his eyes, feeling a twinge of agitation at the sudden change of subject. Dumbledore had gone on for years about how the brats were beacons of knowledge, their legacy, the hope of the future and other such nonsense. Granted, not _every_ student Severus had the displeasure of teaching had been a complete and utter failure. His NEWT class had become his only solace over the years, since he only accepted the best. Even tutoring Ariel had been somewhat enjoyable, since she’d obviously inherited his intellect in certain subjects. Things like Arithmancy were hopeless for her – multiplication had ended with her in tears and a broken ink pot.

“Then what of the voice Potter heard?” Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, “Unless the boy is having audible hallucinations, I can hardly believe that you think it’s a mere coincidence.”

“I don’t,” Dumbledore shook his head, “I find the timing of it and Lucius’ threat to be rather alarming.”

“And what of my daughter, then?” Severus hissed, feeling something sharp pierce his chest, “If whatever this is… if it targets her? The boy?”

The Headmaster raised a silvery eyebrow at him, “Are you not aware of the legend?”

“Of course I am!” He snapped back, “But he made a clear, and seemingly _legitimate_ threat against her! I can’t _protect them_ if Hogwarts is no longer the safest place for them!”

“Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask.” said Dumbledore.

“Is that so?” Severus spat, “Well, then perhaps Slytherin’s monster will be so courteous as to _cease_ and _desist_ his endeavors if we simply _ask.”_

“You misunderstand,” Dumbledore shook his head, “if you believe Lucius Malfoy to be somehow controlling from the outside. I believe, if we are to assume he has somehow allowed the Chamber of Secrets to be opened, I don’t believe him to be responsible for the actions of tonight’s event.”

“So you think him a catalyst?”

“Precisely.” He nodded, and then, his eyes lowered themselves in thought, “It is how, then, that we must set our minds on uncovering.”

“And if we don’t?” Severus asked flatly, “What else are we to do?”

Dumbledore paused, standing and walking over to Fawkes, who let out a content trill as he stroked his feathers.

“What else, indeed.” He murmured, as the phoenix song played, and something moved through the room that Severus couldn’t put in words.

* * *

“We could hear Filch shrieking from outside the Great Hall.” Ron was saying through a mouth full of eggs the following morning. Ariel barely heard him as she picked at her own food, her mind far away, though she tried to hone in on the conversation from time to time to make it look like she was actually listening.

She’d spent all morning looking around the rest of her room for signs of feathers, but found none. Racking her brain for an answers, she’d gone through all the possibilities she could think of… owls… her pillow, perhaps? Remnants of a cat’s meal?

_The diary diary diary Tom tell him_

Ariel was reaching, she knew that. Her father didn’t own _any_ kind of bird – he thought them far too time consuming and bothersome, and it couldn’t have been _hers._ Tidings had never been down from the Owlry, let alone down to the dungeons. Ariel had checked her pillows for tears… even her comforter. She’d looked her entire bed over top to bottom, finding nothing. The cat seemed the most ridiculous, because nothing got into her father’s quarters without him knowing, and it didn’t seem likely he’d let a _cat_ in when he knew she was allergic….

“That’s how Professor Dumbledore knew something was wrong.” Hermione was telling Harry, who looked troubled, more so than last night, “I’m surprised the entire castle didn’t come down.”

Maybe Ariel hadn’t looked hard enough. Maybe she’d just imagined them… she’d been so tired…

“Why do I always miss these things?” Damon was grumbling, smearing jam across a piece of toast, “It’s not everyday something gets _Petrified,_ you know.”

“It’s not a joke!” Hermione snapped at him, “What if it had been a student?”

“Oh come on, Hermione, it was probably just a prank. _Everyone_ hates Filch and his stupid cat.”

Maybe Harry had pranked her? No, he wouldn’t. What kind of prank was it to put feathers in someone’s bed? Harry wasn’t like that…

“Then what about the voice Harry heard?” Hermione demanded, “Or the writing on the wall? _What_ chamber? Who’s this Heir?”

“It’s just some Pureblood nonsense.” Damon snorted, shaking his head, “You’re all taking this far too seriously.”

“Snape took it seriously!” Harry chimed in, “He went to go and see the Headmaster straight after!”

Ariel ran a hand through her hair, the conversation in front of her and within herself beginning to drive her a bit mad. There was no _explanation_ for _any of it._

_She wanted to tell Tom talk to Tom Tom Tom –_

“Because whoever learned how to _Petrify_ Filch’s cat needs to be caught before he does something stupid.” Damon rolled his eyes. Then, after a short pause, he lowered his knife and looked down at the table, calculating, “You heard a voice, you said?”

Her brother nodded, green eyes dulled and worrisome.

_My work renewed with red spilling across white iris’ christening them with blood tell him_

“Come to think of it…” Damon trailed off, shaking his head and looking behind him, towards the Slytherin table, “Draco left practice without me. Maybe _he_ did something… no, that’s ridiculous. I’m giving him too much credit.”  

“I’d bet Scabbers that if it’s anyone, it’s Malfoy.” Ron said vehemently.

“That’s not betting much.” Hermione said in a haughty voice. Ron sent her a vicious glare.

“He’s not smart enough to project a voice _Harry_ could hear, but Professor Snape _couldn’t.”_ Damon pointed out, “Trust me, I was tutored right along with him, and we never learned anything remotely like that.”

“He couldn’t have picked it up somewhere else?” Ron asked, taking a swig of pumpkin juice.

Ariel found herself wanting to say something, to contribute, but her mouth felt heavy, like it had been wired shut every time she tried to talk. She blamed it on her restless night sleep as she shoved some of that morning’s porridge into her mouth, chewing it like it was nails

“That voice wasn’t Malfoy.” Harry shook his head in disagreement, “It… it sounded like… it wanted to _kill_ someone, like it had been held back for a long time and was finally free to do what it wanted. I think Malfoy’s a prat and all, but do you really think he’d want to _hurt_ someone?”

They all went silent, then. Ariel welcomed it, trying to retreat to the back of her mind and drag up something that would make everything click. She was sick and tired of feeling _sick_ and _tired._ She hated feeling confused and not knowing what was happening, and whoever was running around the school painting messages on bloody walls wasn’t helping in the slightest.

She had to talk to Tom. Perhaps _he_ would know…

_Tom Tom Tom tell him her mum had said in words that dripped with venom and tore away at her heart –_

“Well, unless you’d like to accuse any _other_ members of your House,” Hermione gave Damon and Harry a pointed look, “I’m going to the library to find out just what this mysterious chamber is. Anyone care to join?”

“Practice.” Harry and Damon said simultaneously, jumping up. Hermione nearly growled at their smug expressions, turning to ask Ron, but he’d already made his way over to Seamus and Neville. 

Ariel felt a sense of dread fall over her as Hermione turned to her. She hated being alone with her, but right now, the idea of going _anywhere_ with someone so naturally nosy was making her stomach churn.

“I have… _stuff_ to do.” Ariel told her, standing up.

_Tell him before it’s too late his work renewed tell tell tell –_

Hermione frowned, “Does that mean you’re going to speak to Professor Snape, then?”

She blinked, “No. It means I have _stuff,_ to do.” And then the next words flew from her mouth, but Ariel had no idea where they came from, “You won’t find anything, anyway. It’s a waste of time.”

“What makes you say _that?”_ Hermione looked offended, as though the notion of the library _not_ being all-knowing was an insult, “Do _you_ know something?”

“Of course not.” Ariel found herself saying, “I wasn’t there.”

_Liar liar liar tell him_

* * *

A week passed, and nothing sinister had yet to darken the halls of Hogwarts.

Of course, Severus had spent that time doing what he could to make sure that if and when something _did_ occur, which it seemed to since his daughter and Potter had begun their schooling, that he would be prepared and they would be protected. He watched the boy’s Quidditch practices, partly to make sure that if Potter heard the voice again, Severus was there. the other reason being that Malfoy and Potter were at each others throats the entire time. He ordered Ariel to his quarters every night. She had resisted at first, but had simply resigned herself after a day or so to keeping to her room without much fuss.

A week of dread, and then, came Slytherin’s first Quidditch match.

The morning brought with it a storm, far too violent for the beginning of fall. As the skies opened up, Severus almost considered canceling the match, but he wasn’t about to forfeit this early, and the first game, no less. Severus despised Quidditch as much as his daughter did, but owed it to Slytherin as Head of House to uphold their strong and poised image against a little rain. He attempted to scan the throng of cretins as they piled onto the pitch for the game, meaning to keep a close eye on Ariel, but she was nowhere to be found. Severus briefly wondered if she had decided not to come, but waved it away. It was Potter’s first match of the season, not to mention Bellatrix’s son’s first game as the new Keeper. The girl’s loyalty was unwavering.

Normally he would have settled down in his office to catch up on his never ending pile of grading, but he had received word from Lucius himself that he would be there to watch his boy’s first game, and _someone_ had to keep an eye on _him._ All Severus could hear in his mind was the threat, see the boy’s eyes widen in horror, hear Dumbledore’s words echo loudly through his skull…

Lucius gave him a curt nod as he approaching, took the seat next to Severus, not even bothering to offer a greeting. He rarely did.

“I expect Draco should perform well today.” Lucius drawled, his signature silk layering his voice, “Have you been overseeing his progress?”

“Yes. He bickers with Potter constantly, but he appears to be doing well on the team.” Severus said with a sneer. He hated feeling like the boy’s babysitter, for which one however, he couldn’t figure out.

The game began and Severus rolled his eyes at Dean Thomas’ commentary, watching with hidden amusement as Minerva tried to wrestle the microphone away from him on more than one occasion. Severus knew Potter could fly – he’d inherited his father’s talent, loathed as he was to admit James Potter was good at _anything._ Lucius was watching the match with critical eyes as Draco zoomed by, Quaffle in hand.

Potter and Hufflepuff Seeker, Cedric Diggory, were circling each other far above the game, looking for the Snitch. Not caring for the sport, Severus instead scanned Gryffindor’s stands, looking for his daughter. His eyes found her almost immediately, to his relief, scribbling furiously in that blasted notebook of hers. While Severus knew she didn’t share her brother’s love for the game, he’d at least expected her to be cheering to support the boy and Bellatrix’s brat.

“He’s getting lazy.” Lucius hissed. Severus reluctantly moved his eyes from Ariel to Draco, finding the he has tossed the Quaffle to Flint, who caught it with a confused look. He then smugly turned on his broom and dove away, as though waiting.

Severus hid a frown, only imagining what was going through Draco’s mind as he looked to the rest of the Slytherin team. Bellatrix’s brat was gripping his broom so tightly that it looked like it hurt as the rain pounded against them, the wind picking up. He’d done a well enough job guarding the post, so far.

Flint missed the score, and one of the Hufflepuff Chasers grabbed the Quaffle and began to swoop away, when Draco, who had been waiting on the side, dove once more and snatched it. The Slytherin stands roared as he approached the goal hoop, gaining speed as Lucius hissed in approval…

And then Potter cut him off as something small flew through the downpour, nearly knocking Draco off his broom. Lucius snarled, jumping to his feet as the boy recovered.

“Well,” Severus said, hearing Minerva guffaw from behind him, “it was an honorable effort.”

“He _had_ it!” Lucius was twitching, his body rigid, but eyes moving as Potter flew around the pitch.

It was an honest mistake, but Severus could easily see why Lucius was so livid. To insult a Malfoy, intentionally or not, or take away a moment that ended in their pride being wounded was a game far more dangerous than Quidditch.

He found Ariel again, who had finally looked up from whatever the hell she’d been writing in the _pouring rain,_ looking a bit disoriented.

His eyes were only torn away from her once more when he heard a loud gasp from the crowd. Severus looked up to see two boys clad in green robes wrestling in mid air. He squinted and cursed.

When the _hell_ had –

Draco _fucking_ Malfoy was trying to knock Potter off his broom, no doubt in retaliation for interrupting his moment of glory. Minerva had jumped to her feet behind him, shouting something as the wind howled and the rain slammed against the stands, and then, just as Severus himself began to draw his wand, Draco’s hand slammed into Potter’s chest, and the boy was rushing to meet the ground.

There was a chorus of shrieks from the spectators just as Severus roared a Cushioning Charm at Potter, his body going numb from head to toe as Minerva shot a levitation charm to make the fall slower. Even from the stands and in the midst of the storm, he could see the shine in the boy’s green eyes, wide and unseeing.

He hit the ground below.

Severus rushed out of the stand and toward the field as he heard Lucius chuckle darkly behind him.

When he got to field, he growled when he saw Lockhart already circling the boy – how the _fuck_ had he gotten here so quickly – looking from the boy to the teammates floating down, surely so that everyone could see him displaying whatever acts of courage he was trying to muster. Severus quickened his pace, a knowing panic pooling in his stomach. The idiot would surely handicap the boy before Severus had a say in anything.

“No need to fear, Harry my boy!” Lockhart was saying as Severus reached them, shoving the members of both teams aside. Lockhart pointed his wand to the air, and knelt to the ground by Potter’s side.

“Not _you.”_ He heard the boy groan.

A dazzling smile met the remark as Severus elbowed Lockhart away, quickly running a Diagnostic. He saw that, thankfully, Potter had only a broken arm, due to the cushioning charm he had shot at him as he’d spiraled to the ground. 

“Perhaps we should wait for the _medi-witch._ ” Severus sneered at the the thing with teeth, trying to prevent the fool from blasting the boy’s arm off.

“Oh nonsense, Severus! I’ve done this spell thousands of times.” Lockhart flashed a smile at Merlin knew who in the small crowd of students, and pulled out his wand back out.

_“Brackium Emendo!”_ said Lockhart, before Severus could stop him or shield Potter. He watched in horror as the once broken arm seemed to melt under the skin. The boy choked, green eyes widening.

“What did you _do to it?”_ Potter whispered.

Lockhart quickly turned red and laughed nervously. “See? The boy’s arm is no longer broken!” He said, slowly lifting Potter’s arm up, bending his wrist completely in the opposite direction.

Severus didn’t say a word. He was far too furious. He blasted the idiot back wordlessly with a Stunner, sending him flying face first into the mud. He heard several students cheer as he grabbed Potter by the neck and dragged him to Pomfrey, forcing himself away from the Defense teacher before he cursed his obnoxiously bright smile off his face. He was going to have a _very_ long and _very specific_ conversation with the Headmaster later. Lockhart needed to be locked away, because if he wasn’t, Severus was going to end up behind bars for murder and mutilation of a corpse.

* * *

_They were everywhere, Tom,_ Ariel wrote as the wind bit at her face.

She couldn’t feel the tip of her nose at this point, but keeping her head down was the only thing saving her from catching frostbite. At least, that was what Ariel told herself. When the Gryffindors began to boo, only then would she glance up, figuring that Slytherin must have scored or something. She’d lost sight of Harry early into the game – it was too hard to try and keep up with him anyway, the way this rain was coming down. She’d spent the better first part of the game telling Tom how strange she’d felt lately… the writing on the wall… Mrs Norris…

Hermione had spent all of the week at the library, while Ariel had kept the feather incident to herself. She’d holed herself up in Gryffindor Tower, in her dormitory, to be exact, to hide away from everyone during the day, while at night, she barricaded herself in her father’s quarters. She hadn’t even told Tom about it yet, had been somehow mustering up the courage to ask him, for some odd reason. Between Hermione’s obsession with finding out what this stupid fucking chamber was, and her father’s stalking, and Lockhart still not teaching them _anything_ in Defense…

Ariel glanced over at Hermione and Ron just as Tom’s response materialized on the page – she didn't have the patience to deal with Hermione today. She could feel her skin prick at the idea of her snapping at her for not watching the match with rapt attention, like everyone else was. The only other person in sight Ariel cared to watch was Damon, and he’d been doing _nothing_ all game since Hufflepuff hadn’t managed to snag the Quaffle just yet.

_I'm afraid I don't have an explanation either,_ Tom said, _I wish I could be of more help, but that is rather queer._

Ariel huffed in annoyance, feeling her head throb as two Chasers zoomed past her stand.

_Perhaps you imagined it,_ Tom tried. He’d become bolder in recent weeks, initiating the conversation when Ariel left the diary open.

Not likely, Ariel figured, quickly scribbling down that back. The Gryffindor crowd was moaning, a sound that made her think of someone being slowly tortured. Ariel finally pried her eyes away from the diary to find Malfoy racing toward the Hufflepuff posts with the Quaffle.

She snorted, silently hoping he’d fall off his broom or something, when the groans quickly turned into cheers. She didn't bother looking to see what had happened this time.

_I think you might have imagined it,_ Tom’s elegant script materialized

Perhaps I imagined it, Ariel thought to herself. She could feel her nose again, a rush of heat that Ariel felt deep in her bones.

_There’s really nothing to worry about_

No, of course not. It was pointless, really. Ariel could feel the worry melt away, something hot and weightless that covered her, reassured, comforted…

The sound of raucous laughter pulled her away. The Gryffindors were all laughing and pointing at something. Ariel lifted her head, squinting through the rain, finding that the hood of her cloak had fallen off at some point, and her hair was now soaking wet.

Her heart flew from her mouth as Ariel let out a terrified yelp.

Malfoy and Harry was _wrestling,_ midair. What the _hell_ did Malfoy think he was _doing?_ Didn’t he realize how _stupid,_ how… how…

Ariel leaped to her feet as Harry’s broom bucked. From the corner of her eye, she could see Damon darting over from the goal post, Flint was shouting something, but it impossible to hear anything over the roar of the rain…

Ron and Hermione were practically leaning over the railing several rows away-- Ariel purposely sat away from them because if Hermione had mentioned this stupid chamber prank thing one more time, she was quite sure she’d punt her off the stands.

_Calm,_ Ariel felt her mind croon, _be calm._

How could she be _calm_ when Harry… Harry…

She looked desperately to the professor’s stand to see her father watching the mess unfold, and saw a flash of blood underneath dark robes.

Lucius?

_Lucius._

Her vision went cloudy, then. The scene was lost to her, and Ariel thought to raise her hand to wipe the rain from her eyes, but found that her hand was far too heavy. The burn was traveling all along her jaw, her spine, her mind was searing itself as all of her fury and anger threw itself into one, and then--

The crowd shrieked in horror, and Ariel heard no more.

* * *

Severus didn’t say a word when they reached the infirmary, simply shoving the boy towards Pomfrey. She looked from the boy’s arm to Severus’ face, and her face immediately soured.

“Who in Godric’s _good name –”_

_“Lockhart.”_ Severus said, only needing that one word to shut her up.

The medi-witch rushed over to the cabinet, and began rummaging through, mumbling under her breath. “Broken bones… would’ve taken me minutes…” And then she muttered a string of profanity that surprised even Severus. He was nearly impressed by it.

He glared at the boy, not trusting himself to speak without doing damage to the other, perfectly good arm. It was a wonder Lockhart hadn’t thought to give the brat a haircut or correct his sight so that he wouldn’t have to wear glasses any longer.

“It… it wasn’t my fault!” Potter tried, failing, as he finally looked away from his boneless arm.

“I _told you_ to play nice with Malfoy. Your idiotic rivalry almost got you _killed.”_ Severus shot the boy a glare that promptly shut him up, and his eyes watched as Pomfrey bustled over and began tending to him.

He stepped to the sanctuary of the shadows as the boy’s teammates hurried in, presuming his daughter would run in soon after. Severus felt his body tense, wondering if he should have stayed behind to make sure Ariel didn’t try and Hex Malfoy, _especially_ since Lucius was here. He could see her all too easily trying to exact revenge straight away, out of his sight. He could feel his blood pressure rising as he waited for the flash of flaming red hair, but it never came. One by one, the Weasley’s and the Granger girl all filed in, but his daughter was nowhere to be seen.

“You should have seen Lockhart trying to get up out of the mud.” one of the Weasley twins was telling Potter, “He kept slipping. Snape knocking him down is something I plan on treasuring, always.”

“Who knew the slimy git had it in him?” The other piped up, and at that, Severus allowed himself to emerge from the sidelines.

“Visiting hours are over!” He barked at the students, rushing them out of the room, and he slammed the doors shut behind him as he set out to find his daughter before Lucius decided that whatever he had planned wasn’t worth his patience.

He groaned internally, feeling something cold slide down his back when he saw Lucius swoop over to him from down the corridor outside of the hospital wing, Draco trailing closely behind, imitating his father’s stone cold smirk. Bellatrix’s brat was following, head bowed and looking… was that _shame?_

“I expect you will see to Potter’s _punishment?”_ Lucius said, the words flowing like a stream of ice cold water, “He could have killed my son with that foolish stunt he pulled.” he firmly grasped his son’s shoulder, and Severus simply nodded at them tersely. Severus paused, waiting to hear another comment about Ariel, but it did not come. Instead, Lucius’ grey eyes swept over him, as though gaging his reaction.

“I will see that he is disciplined properly.” Severus gave the blonde brat an icy glare for a moment, letting him know that his actions would catch up to him sooner rather than later, then turned back to Lucius, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some House business I must attend to.”

“Of course.” Lucius tilted his head in acknowledgement, and Severus stalked away in search of Ariel.

He checked everywhere; the library, Hagrid’s hut, the Great Hall, her fucking rock, the alcoves lining the Astronomy Tower, but there was no sign of her. He’d had even barked at Granger and She-Weasley to check the Gryffindor rooms, but they quickly reported back that Ariel wasn’t there either. Severus considered the idea of them lying, when Ariel really _was_ there, but why would she shut herself away in the godforsaken tower when her brother had nearly broken every bone in his body?

It wasn’t like her.

What _was_ like her, then? It was shocking enough that Ariel hadn’t stormed down to the Quidditch pitch herself, told Draco off and tried to Hex his nose off, sneering up at Lucius as he watched Lockhart’s magic away Potter’s bones…

What if she had gone _looking_ for Lucius?

No, Ariel wasn’t simple. Or suicidal, despite what last years’ events had told Severus. She wouldn’t…

_She’ll learn her lesson soon enough_

He took off for his quarters, praying Ariel would be there waiting, that she’d simply been _waiting_ _there for him,_ only to find her sitting on the couch, head tilted to the side.

Relief so great flooded through him that it almost hurt.

Severus was about to reprimand her for disappearing like that,

_for scaring him because something was wrong and he couldn’t figure it what it was for the life of him wrong wrong wrong_

but he stopped himself when she looked up at him.

“Where the _hell_ have you been?” Severus began, stopping himself as his fury ebbed and seemed to throw itself far down within himself, leaving him feeling odd and distant as his daughter raised her head and met his eyes.

He felt his blood boil.

Her dark eyes were large and hollowed, face gaunt. Ariel looked… like _him._

Whoever put his daughter in such a horrified state was going to pay, he told himself, whether it be the bloody Malfoy family or Potter’s near-death experience – how dare he fucking fall out of the fucking sky, in front of her, scare her after she’d gone charging after him last year and then he’d seen the boy in that fucking mirror…

Severus went to sit next to her, reaching out to her, when she recoiled and looked away, still silent. He just stared at her, arm still stretched out, wondering what the hell was going on in that mind of hers. Did he ever really know?

Ariel had… _waited_ for him. In his _quarters._ Without him having to _forcibly drag her down here_ himself.

_“What_ is going on?” Severus managed to say finally, bewildered by her behavior.

But the girl kept looking down, wringing her hands around her wrists, not saying a single word. He thought perhaps it had scared her to see Potter fall from the sky, however he wasn’t sure she even saw, since she was so distracted during the game. Maybe she had seen Lucius sitting next to him, and was angry with him for that?

If Ariel was upset or angry, she should have been waiting for him in front of his desk, as furious as Severus was with her and Potter and Lucius fucking Malfoy and Gilderoy _motherfucking_ Lockhart. She would have gone to see Potter and refused to leave despite the fact the man Severus couldn’t openly protect her from was walking around the damn castle. She would have shouted and cried and demanded Draco’s head for hurting her brother, and Severus would have yelled back, and he would know that everything was alright, because Ariel was Lily’s daughter, and she had her temper.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. What was she hiding from him? _And why?_

“Why should you care?” Ariel _finally_ said, seemingly trembling with anger.

“One of the Dark Lord’s most dangerous followers comes to school, one who has a _personal vendetta against you,_ and you went missing!” Severus stopped and tried to collect his own, “You are _my_ child. Had Lucius come across you –”

“Well he didn't.” Ariel said, hands wringing faster, shoulders beginning to tremble, “I couldn't give a _fuck –”_

_“Language.”_ He rumbled, though he hardly blamed her, “Is it what happened at the game today, then?”

Severus watched her, forcing a hand on her shoulder, desperate to calm her. She let out a whimper at the contact, like it physically hurt her. She buried her face in her hands, and for a very long moment, the only sound in the room was her ragged breathing.

Did Ariel think the boy _dead?_ Had she not seen that he was just fine? Severus hadn’t even needed to conjure a stretcher for the little idiot _(suffocating, moronic, damning, confusing boy)._

Confusion wasn’t something he handled well in the slightest, but as he retracted the gesture once more, he was lost in a sea of it, trying to keep his head above the surface before he went completely mad and sought out Lucius willingly.

“You didn’t come to see your brother.” Severus said in a slow and steady voice, wanting her to come closer and fall against him, because that was what Ariel _did,_ “He’ll have to spend the night in the infirmary, but he’ll be just fine.”

“I didn’t ask, did I?” Ariel snapped at him, red head whipping about her face as she scowled at him, venom seeping into her voice.

“I am _telling_ you.” He couldn’t help it as his voice raised above the forced calm Severus was desperately trying to hold down, “I would _think_ you’d be showing a bit more concern over Potter.”

“Harry…” He saw her face slowly drain of what little color she had, and the trembling ceased, “He’s… he’s okay?”

“Yes,” Severus reached for her once more, but Ariel jumped up and scurried away, as though he’d startled her, “he’s just fine. I’ll take you to him.”

A year ago, he’d have laughed at the idea of willingly taking Ariel to see Potter. But now, the idea of not keeping an eye on both children when there was quite possibly more than one threat lurking about the school _(the chamber Lockhart Lucius Lucius Lucius)_ made him feel like he was slowly losing his mind.

Her face snapped back together into that cool mask of simmering fury, like an elastic band.

“I'm going to bed.” Ariel said instead, cold and flat.

Severus grabbed her arm as she began to stalk away, turning her around so that he could look her fully in the face. Any remnants of that usual sparkle in her eyes was gone, null and void. For once, when he looked into her eyes, he felt nothing but an overwhelming cold instead of that unfamiliar, wonderful warmth. It was like looking into a mirror… 

“We’re not finished here!” He snarled, pulling her closer as Ariel squirmed.

“I didn’t do anything wrong!” She shouted at him.

“You are –” Something was _wrong_ something _wasn’t right wrong wrong wrong._

“I am _fine!”_ Ariel tugged away, putting the arm of the couch between them, “Stop acting like I’m about to break into a million pieces! You’ve been babying me all year and I’m _sick of it!_ Just leave me alone!”

Severus froze. He let his grip loosen from her arm, watching her body language, not her face any longer. Her chest was heaving, sweat on her brow, the tremor back…

“Why don’t you go find Lucius?” She sneered up at him, “Since you’re both _such_ good mates, after all.”

He did not see her leave. He heard a door slam.

God mother _fucking –_

Severus stood there for several minutes, something telling him to follow her. He wanted to rip her bedroom door from it’s hinges and shake her until her teeth rattled. He wanted to –  

There was so much anger in her face. Severus hadn’t ever thought it could hold so much. Ariel’s smiling face, eyes ablaze and laughing grinning running _I promise you weren’t a waste of space Harry isn’t James why don’t you go find Lucius –_

“Hormones my arse.” Severus spat, cursing Poppy in his head.

Ariel didn’t want to see the boy. _Why…_ he could have… the little _fools…_

Someone needed to keep an eye on that blasted boy before Lockhart decided to banish his organs. And so, with a withering glare for Ariel’s bedroom door, which he properly warded to let him know if she left, Severus took his leave, leaving his heart behind.

* * *

“I _hate them!”_ Ariel fumed aloud, “I wish Draco had fallen and broken his neck!”

_“I can see that,”_ said Tom.

The diary sat, unopened on her bed. She did not see it.

Draco, pushing her little brother from a terrifying height. Lucius, sitting there, smug arrogance plastered across his thin face, like he and his prat of a son couldn’t be touched. Harry, falling falling falling, her father…

But she… hadn’t even _seen…_

Ariel blinked. When had she gotten here? Her father… she had to see Harry! Dad…

_Dad._

Lucius was not _his._ Ariel hated that he thought it so… hated _him… hate hate hated…_

_“Let go,”_ Tom told her, something so gentle in his voice that she turned –

voice there was a voice

_what —_

soft and gentle and a voice

She breathed, in and out, and her terror flickered.

voice Tom had a voice

It was red hot, like molten lava, throwing itself forth, swallowing her blackness and light and the grey in between Ariel didn’t even know was there, whole.

* * *

Harry was thoroughly _pissed,_ at this point.

The hospital wing was a _lot_ less tolerable without his sister in a bed next to him. Even Snape being here could have helped some, but he’d kicked out Hermione and Ron and the rest of the Slytherin team before any of them could even get a _word_ in and up and left too. Harry hoped Snape was making Malfoy scrub cauldrons or scrape tubeworms off of desks or something else horrible. He wished Ariel would come soon and tell him that, because then, just _lying_ on the cot in agony would make it a _lot_ more tolerable.

Stupid Malfoy. He hadn’t even known what he’d _done_ to make him snap like that, in the middle of their _first Quidditch match,_ no less. Harry would have figured Malfoy would at least put aside his hatred for the sake of the House Cup, but then again, it _was_ Malfoy. Flint was going to kill them both, even though Harry hadn’t done a thing wrong. One minute, the Snitch has been millimeters within his reach, and the next thing he knew, Malfoy had jolted him to a halt and tried to punch him flat in the nose… and then the ground had come rushing up…

Well, now Harry was just bored, in pain, and _clueless,_ as if things couldn’t get any worse. What if Snape gave him detention? He’d looked so mad… _especially_ after Lockhart had turned his arm to mush. He hoped that what Fred and George had said about Snape pushing him into the mud were true. Christmas would have come early to Harry, then, especially after this disaster. He hoped Ariel had seen that so she could tell him what had happened play by play.

Where the heck was Ariel? She hadn’t even come in with the initial group… Harry had been half expecting her to have Hexed Malfoy’s nose off herself. Had she even been at the game?

The idea that she hadn’t hurt.

Harry heard the doors open, as he tried to maneuver his body into a more comfortable position without squishing his thing left of an arm. He couldn’t see past the curtains, but could hear the familiar stomp of boots, recognizing them immediately.

“Hello, sir.” Harry greeted politely as Snape pulled back the curtain, his hand seemingly the only part of his body to move. Harry made sure to make his eyes look as miserable as possible.

Snape didn’t say anything. He didn’t even move. He just stared at Harry like he was inspecting a test tube subject.

Despite the fact that Harry had somehow gotten used to Snape’s weird way of looking at him, he still felt himself inch away under the scrutiny. His black eyes moved from his face, and then to his arm. Snape’s lip curled.

“How is it?” He asked in a low, bleak voice.

It took a moment for Harry to respond. The professor’s face looked gaunt in the low torchlight, like he’d been standing there for a thousand years instead of a couple of seconds.

“Hurts,” Harry finally muttered, “thanks to Lockhart.”

Snape made a disgusted noise, a look of pure and clear hatred sweeping across his face. He stalked to Harry’s bedside, jerking open a drawer of the nightstand next to the bed, and handing him a vial with what appeared to be dark blue liquid.

“What is it?” He asked, taking it warily.

“Pain reliever.” Snape was no longer looking at him, his eyes focused elsewhere.

“Madam Pomfrey said it wouldn’t help much…” Harry gave him a pointed look and lifted his arm, “Bones growing back and all, y’know.”

“Then don’t take it.” He snapped down at him, black cloak spilling about the floor, “Suffer, for all I care.”

“Where’s Ariel, then?” Harry asked, suspecting her to be the reason for the man’s odd behavior. Malfoy’s attack was suddenly the last thing on his mind.

About what, he hadn’t the slightest idea.

(He reached into his Quidditch uniform pocket and felt the acorn graze his thumb)

Harry wondered far too many things.

“Her room,” Snape said shortly, with just a touch of bitterness, “sulking.”

He blinked, “Did _she_ fall off a broom too?”

Snape snorted, but offered nothing more. He simply stood there, like he was playing guard. Harry considered this. Snape was _always_ where Ariel was if something strange was going on. Hermione had managed to scrape up little pieces of information on the chamber, and from what she’d found, if it had truly been opened, it wasn’t good. Harry knew by now that if danger was afoot, Snape went a bit mad, and Ariel had a shadow for an indefinite amount of time.

Harry was about to ask what had happened between them when the infirmary doors flew about, and the sound of hushed voices floated over to them. Snape’s eyebrows immediately furrowed at the sight, and like some great bird of prey, he swooped out of sight and over to whoever had just entered the hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey was the first to speak that Harry could hear clearly, “Don’t tell me that pompous prick injured _another_ student?”

“I’m afraid…” Another voice whispered, deep, like Snape’s. Professor Dumbledore. The rest of his speech was lost.

“... no telling what…” Harry craned his neck, straining to hear, “...found him… just outside… Ronald Weasley had told…”

Harry’s chest constricted painfully.  

“Who is it?” He called out.

The professors went silent.

“It’s just Potter,” Snape said in a tight voice, “ignore him.”

He was just about to hurl himself from the bed when the curtain once again pushed itself aside, and the potion’s master was back, frost etching itself in every line in his sallow skin. The moonlight made him appear almost ghostlike.

“If you move from that cot,” Snape bit out, “I will forcibly restrain you.”

“Who _is_ it?” Harry demanded, fear clutching at his heart. Ariel hadn’t shown up… what if…

“None of your concern.” Snape said coldly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time. They were filled with… was that…

“Is it Ariel?” He demanded in a thick voice, “You said she was in your quarters!”

Snape jaw clenched, “It is not your sister.”

“Then _who —”_

_“Potter,_ it is _not your business!”_

“Severus…” An old, weary voice called from behind Snape. The curtain was drawn further back to reveal Professor Dumbledore, looking worse than the hooked-nose man had ever appeared, “Harry has a right to know. Let him up.”

“He’s injured.” Snape argued flatly.

“I can _walk.”_ Harry shot back, indignantly.

Snape’s nostrils flared, but he forced himself up and out of the bed. Professor Dumbledore put a heavy hand on his shoulder, leading him over to the form that Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were surrounding.

“Albus!” McGonagall gasped sharply when she caught sight of Harry, “He shouldn’t be seeing this… it is disturbing enough —”

Dumbledore held up a hand and she went quiet, gently guiding Harry closer.

The body on the bed was as rigid as a corpse, though worse, because the way it was frozen was unlike any dead body Harry had ever seen. Its hands were locked in front of it’s face, like it had been holding something… eyes wide and clear as glass…

“Colin…” Harry muttered, sickness settling into his stomach.

“You knew him?” Dumbledore asked quietly.

He nodded, “He’s a Gryffindor… he’s friends with Ginny, I know. Ron had made a joke out of sending him after me with his camera at the start of the year… thought it was funny with the whole celebrity thing, but it ended up being rather annoying. But…” Harry looked up at the Headmaster with wide, green eyes, “What did this to him?”

The voice that had whispered death and had longed to kill, like it had been denied for longer than it should have, hissed in Harry’s mind, and he felt a chill, like death itself had passed through him.

“The question is not who, my boy.” Dumbledore said quietly, his expression sorrowful as he gazed down at Colin, “But _how._ Go,” He put a gentle hand on Snape’s shoulder, “make sure Ariel is alright.”

Snape looked reluctant to go, a reaction Harry hadn’t anticipated in the slightest. He’d been expected Snape to fly out of here the second Colin and come in to go and make sure Ariel had stayed in his quarters.

“Back to bed with you.” Snape jerked his head at Harry, and he was more than happy to oblige. He didn’t think he could stand another moment staring at the body… the voice…

“Sir?” Harry asked, now fearful and much timider, as Snape watched him slip under the covers, “What could do this? Did whatever Petrify Mrs Norris… it did it to Colin, didn’t it?”

Snape just looked at him with some kind of unspoken emotion Harry couldn’t identify, and sighed.

“Ask me that question another day, Mr Potter.” He told him.

And then he was gone. The professors had even gone quiet once more. Either that, or they’d put up a silencing spell.

Harry felt the acorn in his pocket, and his wonderment made his heart heavy in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! Xx


	42. Remain Nameless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another double upload, so make sure you read Ch. 41 first! 
> 
> Please review! xx

Her cheek was pressed against the rug of her room. She was sprawled across the floor like she’d been thrown inside.

Ariel groggily let her eyes flutter open, slowly pushing herself to her feet. She felt sore everywhere, her joints screaming in pain. It took Ariel two or three attempts to stand. She was filthy, inside and out… there was some kind of muck covering her hands. It was sticky, and it smelt like a corpse.

_Tom._

Ariel’s eyes went to the diary, wide and filled with hatred. What… what had he… it was…

_“Wash yourself.”_ Something within her told her, and Ariel felt herself lift off the ground and head towards the bathroom without a second thought. She flicked on the lights, not wanting to look at her reflection, but something jerked her chin up, and suddenly, her eyes met her own.

Ariel didn’t recognize herself. She was a ghost, a mere shadow what she _should_ have looked like – if she’d had an evil twin, her reflection would be it. She couldn’t even see her mum in her face anymore…

_“Scourgify.”_ she heard herself hiss, though it came out more like a hiccup. Her dirtied face and matted hair was free of the filth. She felt another spell on her lips that she couldn't identify.

Now, Ariel looked closer to normal. The smell even seemed to fade, but the feeling of despair and disorientation didn't.

She began to sob, gripping the sides of the sink for support. How could she have been so _stupid?_ All this time…

_Tell him,_ her mother had said. She should have listened, she’d _tried,_ had thought _Tom…_

_“Me, yes,”_ a voice rang out, making her shriek in surprise. _“I was beginning to wonder when you’d realize. You’ve been impossibly dim-witted in that regard. Pity, really. You showed a bit of promise.”_

Ariel whirled about wildly, creeping out of the bathroom and searching her dimly lit bedroom for signs of The Voice. There was only a single candle lit on her nightstand, the diary sitting right next to it.

It was open, like it had been waiting for her.

_“Ah,”_ The Voice sighed, irritated, _“and you still don’t realize. I really did overestimate you, didn’t I?”_

“You…” Ariel felt her back hit the door, “It’s _you…_ the reason I can’t remember anything…”

_“And this was why I thought it wise to reveal myself,”_ The Voice sounded like it was frowning, _“I can already feel you resisting… don’t you know better by now?”_

“Show yourself.” She hissed to the seemingly empty room.

_“Oh, but I already have, dearest girl.”_

It hit Ariel like the curse she’d shot at that red cap, then. The same spell he’d shown her… the voice… she’d _heard_ him before. She didn’t have to ask who was in her head, who was talking and ordering her about like some kind of slave.

“Tom?” Ariel whispered, unbelieving.

_“Oh, perhaps your head isn’t as empty as I thought.”_ Tom sneered, _“Very good, little girl.”_

Something white hot and sharper than a blade shredded her heart as it came over her, and then, as Ariel choked on her words, she fell against the door as her heart crystallized, and shattered as terror flowed openly in her veins.

_“Regret is such a rather unpleasant emotion, isn’t it?”_ He was laughing now, a cold sound that shot through her like arrows, _“Stupid Ariel Potter, so trusting, so empathetic. I’ve been waiting so long to say those things, you know. But you’ve done a well enough job keeping your temper from rising… I couldn’t feed off such positivity from you.”_

“N...o….” Ariel gasped, holding her hands over her ears in an attempt to shut Tom out, shut him up get him out it was _wrong wrong wrong –_

_“But then the Malfoy family seemed to make you tick, little spitfire I thought you were.”_ Tom sounded pleased, but Ariel could barely hear him over the roaring in her ears, _“All that anger, the possessiveness you feel for that boy and the man you call ‘father.’ He’s come too close on more than one occasion… we may have to do something about that…”_

At those words, Ariel fell her crippling terror fall away. It was like a net had been cast around her, but the threat made the bindings dissolve, but she could still _feel_ Tom at the back of her mind.

“If you hurt them,” Ariel balled her fists and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to find him find him _find him get him out,_ “I swear on my life, I’ll make you feel regret for the first time in your pathetic existence.”

_“It seems Daddy is a touchy issue.”_ Tom’s chuckled darkly, _“Careful, girl, or he won’t be an issue any longer.”_

“I’m not afraid of you!” Ariel snarled into the darkness, expecting the velvet of his voice to materialize into a person any moment.

_“Oh, but my dear,”_ Tom purred, _“fear is ever changing and evolving.”_

And then the pain hit.

It was blinding. Ariel’s world was an explosion of pain so great that she couldn’t bring herself to even cry out. Her skin was blistering, her blood boiling and yet cold as ice, white hot knives driving themselves deeper inside her, her throat as dry and raw as the Sahara, her bones breaking, the cracking sends waves down her body that only intensified the agony.

The second it began, it ended, and Ariel was left trembling on the floor of her bedroom.

_“Who were your parents, girl?”_ He asked in a falsely sweet voice, like if she answered him, he’d release whatever hold he had on her.

“J-James and… Lily P-Potter!” Ariel wheezed, clutching her stomach, “W-what does that matter to you? I already told you – they’re _dead!”_

_“How?”_

She gritted her teeth, “Murdered, by a –”

_“I do not wish to entertain whatever comments you have,”_ Tom snarled – her stomach twisted and Ariel gagged. _“what was his name?”_

“Voldemort!” Ariel fell to her knees, hating herself for it.

_“Then how are you alive?”_ He demanded.

“Killing Curse… _rebounded.”_ She panted, “My brother and I…”

_“Ah yes, the little Slytherin boy you call Harry.”_

“You don’t get to say his name!” Ariel shouted.

_“You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to know…”_ He ignored her, obviously satisfied, _“But to know… that something so pathetic and weak could have overcome him…”_

“It wasn’t us,” Ariel forced out, shakily climbing back to her feet, “our mum… our mum protected us…”

_“Sacrifice… unexpected, but a better explanation than the likes of_ you. _Do they hail you heroes?”_ He asked, angry now, and she flinched. 

“Why do you care?” Ariel croaked, “He came _years_ after you!”

_“And what of the man who cares for you now?”_

She went cold all over. Not her dad. She couldn’t… not him…

_“I felt that,”_ Tom sneered, _“you're a ball of emotions – it’s revolting, really. But nevertheless, it will prove helpful in keeping you in line. Perhaps your fondness for him will prove a promising motivator. Your father and the boy… yes, they will do nicely, much better than your little friends.”_

“Please,” Ariel’s voice broke, “don’t hurt them. I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t hurt them. Don’t make me… I couldn’t…”

_“On the contrary, you and your brother are exactly what I want.”_ Tom told her, _“Daddy dearest, however, will depend on you.”_

“You can’t hurt him.” She told him with a twisted laugh at the idea of her father not being able to handle whoever this _Tom_ was, “He’s strong, talented. Brilliant, really. Whatever you make me do, he’ll stop it.”

Tom seemed to pause at this, and then, she could _feel_ him smile, _“Pity you won’t be lifting a finger, then.”_

Something told her that if she cried, it would hurt. 

Before Ariel could ask why, wonder what his plans were for her, she heard the door to their quarters open, and then the sound of heavy footsteps. She’d wondered how her father hadn’t heard her yelling, figuring Tom must have put up some kind of Silencing Spell. He hadn’t even _been_ here… Tom must have known that.

_“Get into bed.”_ The ordering bark in her head made her flinch like a whip being brandished, _“And if you try to alert him to anything, he will become your second example of what happens when you don’t listen.”_

Ariel leaped into bed, squeezing her eyes shut and gathered the comforter around her. The footsteps got closer and closer, and Ariel desperately tried to remember the last conversation she’d had with him. She recalled the game… and then Severus shouting. Had they argued? She briefly recalled him asking what was wrong, _again,_ and her getting agitated…

The door opened. Ariel could hear every creak it made, focused on it so strongly –

She felt a hand run through her hair, and the force behind the dam mounted. All of her fear and sadness and anger, pounded against the wall Tom had built up inside of her. All that she could feel and touch was this overwhelming sense of longing, an ache to be comforted, to scream at her father to…

_“Perish the thought, my dear.”_ Tom murmured, sounding pleased with himself, like he’d read her emotions like an open book.

She wanted to grab her father’s hand, but her body stayed still, assuming the position of a deep sleep.

“What am I going to do with you?” Ariel heard her father murmur.

_“Ah, the real question.”_ Tom mused, _“What do you think your father will do when he realizes what you’ve been doing, dear Ariel?”_

She had no bloody clue what she’d been doing. She didn’t know what happened when he took control… _hated that…_ did she even _want_ to know? It wasn’t like she could tell Severus…

_“Sit up and ask him what’s happened.”_ He was amused by her confusion, _“Ask him what happened tonight, Ariel.”_

She sat up automatically, like a puppet being pulled by the strings, finding that her father was looking at the diary on the nightstand. Her heart leaped up into her throat.

_Take it open it see see see_

But Severus didn’t, for he looked back to her, seemingly surprised that she was awake.

_“Tread lightly.”_ Tom hissed, and Ariel could feel the threat somewhere deep and cold.

“What’s wrong?” Ariel asked him, staring straight into his eyes. Hadn’t Dumbledore said he could do that mind-reading thing? She wondered why he’d never done it before – or perhaps he had and Ariel hadn’t realized – but she hoped he would now.

Her father sighed, “I don’t want you to be afraid.”

_Too late_

“Afraid?” She frowned up at him, looking into his eyes with laser-beam precision, hoping he could read them and see the desperation.

“The Chamber,” He said, “has been opened. A student has been Petrified.”

_My work, renewed._

_Tell him._

Somewhere deep within her, Ariel felt the urge to shriek in horror. She could feel Tom’s laughter, his pleasure, vibrating around inside her. But the tendrils of his control locked around her will as her horror crescendoed, as the command to not let her mask of calm fall, despite the wave of understanding and guilt and terror and dizziness fell upon her from her prison.

Her feelings were locked away.

Was this what Occlumency was like? Is this what her father felt?

Tom allowed Ariel to grab her father’s bicep, wrapping both of her arms around it tightly, and she buried her face into his shoulder.

“What’s going to happen?” Ariel whispered. Her voice did not shake. Her chest _burned._

Severus wrapped an arm around her middle, tucking her head under his chin, “I don’t know. My sole concern is making sure you and your brother are safe. Measures must be taken to ensure there are no more victims, and quickly.”

Tom scoffed.

Her father’s eyes flickered to the diary.

“I’m sorry.” She said, holding onto him like her life depended on it. It did.

_“Pathetic.”_ Tom sneered, and Ariel agreed.

* * *

The next day, Harry was free from the hospital wing and trying to get back to some sense of normalcy.

It took Harry a couple of hours to get used to the feeling of his new arm-bone. No matter what anyone said, he was sure that Skele-Gro stuff was still the grossest thing on the planet, and he had taken Madam Pomfrey’s advice to be cautious for a few days lest anything happen and he end up back in the hospital wing. Merlin knew he never wanted to have to go through _that_ ever again.

Hermione and Ron were waiting for him outside of the hospital wing later that day. Harry could automatically tell by the looks on their faces that they’d heard about Colin, seeing as they were Gryffindors, just like him. He wondered how the professors had managed to break the news to the school.

The idea that they were confused as the students wasn’t comforting in the slightest. Even _Snape_ looked worried… and he never cared about anything that didn’t have to do with Ariel.

Harry told them what he’d seen and heard when it came to Colin, and then of the threat Lucius had made. The three of them quickly concluded that the timing of it all was far more than just a simple coincidence.

“There’s nothing about a Chamber in the library.” Hermione said miserably, as though this was the greatest letdown of the age, “Ron and I searched for _ages.”_

“It’s true,” Ron grumbled, “we were almost there past curfew. Madam Pince had to drag us out.”

“Was Ariel with you?” Harry asked hopefully, though he knew the likely answer.

They shook their heads, and something in Harry’s chest tightened. An odd sense of deja vu overcame him. It felt like last year, when just after Christmas Ariel had her argument with Snape and hid away for days, except this time, as far as Harry could tell, there wasn’t anything _wrong._

A feeling of abandonment was slowly beginning to creep over him. Was Ariel tired of him? Was he too much – no longer important to her? No, that was a ridiculous thought, Harry knew that, but he couldn’t shake the sense that something was _wrong…_  

“She was at the game, though!” Hermione told him reassuringly, “She jumped up after Malfoy knocked you off… I hear Hufflepuff said they’ll allow Slytherin a rematch. I figured she’d gone down to the ground to Hex Malfoy, but I didn’t see her…”

“She never came down to the hospital wing.” Harry said glumly.

“That’s not like her at all.” Hermione frowned, “Professor Snape didn’t bring her in after we left?”

Harry went to snap that _no,_ he _hadn’t,_ but was stopped as a group of Gryffindors saw the trio passing by just in front of the Great Hall, huddled together. They were talking quite amicably until Harry’s eyes fell upon them. They almost flinched, like his gaze was unwelcomed, and their eyes narrowed.

He stopped to return the stare, wondering why the were regarding him so coldly. He didn’t recognize any of them…

“Have your jollies with one of ours, did ya Potter?” A boy with sandy hair shouted. The others shushed him and began to drag him away, but he struggled, snarling something and giving Harry a glare that made his stomach churn.

He stared after them, stunned, as Hermione grabbed his arm.

“Ignore them.” When he looked back at her, she’d lowered her eyes to the ground, as though ashamed, “There… there have been some ridiculous rumors going around.”

“About _me?”_ Harry bleated, shocked, “For what? What happened at the game yesterday? I don’t even know what I’d done to make Malfoy lose his head like that!”

“You cut him off from scoring.” Ron patted his shoulder comfortingly, “But no, I think the school’s forgotten about that after what happened to Colin. They… they think…” He looked to Hermione for help. Harry had the odd urge to scream at them.

“They think you’ve got something to do with all this Petrifying.” Hermione said in a small voice, like the words were heavy in her mouth.

They hit Harry like a bludger to the chest.

_“M-me?”_ He squeaked, “But I was with Snape when Mrs Norris… and I was in the hospital wing! I… I don’t even know what this Chamber thing _is!”_

_“We_ know that!” Hermione sighed, Ron and her sharing a look that only made Harry angrier, “They… they’re just looking for someone to blame, Harry. We wouldn’t have said anything, but everyone’s scared and –”

“And they thought that the Golden Boy in Slytherin would be the best choice.” Harry finished flatly.

“You know the reputation.” Ron bit his lip, “It’s not fair, mate.”

“Damn right it’s not fair!” Harry nearly shouted, spinning on his heel so that he was standing in front of them. They had made their way to the staircase leading down to the dungeons. “First Malfoy costs us the game, Ariel is probably upset with me for some reason, and now everyone thinks I’m running around using my super freak powers to Petrify people! Brilliant! As if things couldn’t get better!”

“Harry…” Hermione started, her bottom lip trembling as she reached for him again.

Harry shook his head at them, meaning for them not to follow. He felt his mood darken as he descended down into the dungeons. He still had to talk to Damon… maybe _he’d_ seen Ariel. He just wanted his sister, at this point.

The accusation against him almost caused Harry burst out laughing thinking about it. As if _he,_ the boy who’d grown up a world away from wizarding Britain, could know _anything_ about some secret Chamber and how to pull off Dark Magic. But then his throat tightened, and the sudden urge to collapse against the wall overcame him. His arm began to throb. Harry had known coming in that being in Slytherin would be a difficult House… had wondered if he should have fought for Gryffindor like Ariel had. All of his friends and family were there, save Damon of course. Malfoy was like the bloody prince of Slytherin, and as long as he was in that position, Harry was unfavorable.

Maybe that was what made Harry and Ariel different. She fought. He… Harry didn’t know where he fit. Maybe Ariel had realized that and decided he wasn’t worth it.

_Ridiculous,_ Harry scolded himself. Maybe.

The Slytherin common room was busier than usual, to his huge disappointment. It seemed like _everyone_ was there, or at least, definitely everyone in Harry’s year. He caught sight of Damon sitting on the steps of the entrance to the boy’s dormitories. His face lightened as Harry’s eyes met his, and he waved to him.

Harry didn’t return the gesture, for the pull of another’s words caught his attention.

“... not like the _Chamber_ is some big secret to us in Slytherin.” Draco’s voice was saying loudly, though it wasn’t like he had to, for no one else was speaking, “My father told me it used to be passed down year to year here. It’s a pity none of you know…”

“Oh, c’mon Draco!” Pansy Parkinson was whining as Harry stalked by, “Tell us about the Chamber!”

“Yeah, Draco!” Hestia Carrow chimed in, “It’s not fair! We ought to have _some_ idea of what’s going on.”

Draco, seemingly the most popular person in the Slytherin common room at the moment, smirked as Harry glared. He hadn’t the energy to spare on putting Malfoy in his place for trying to kill him. Something told him Snape hadn’t even given him detention yet. He hoped he got to see it when he got his own punishment dished out.

“The _Chamber of Secrets,”_ Draco began in a low, dramatic voice, “is said to be the home of a monster.”

Harry snorted, crossing his arms and leaning against the mantle of the fireplace closest to the group of couches they were all sitting on. The girls all sent him horrid looks that read _“how dare you,”_ but if Draco himself had heard, he didn’t make it known.

“It’s no secret that Salazar Slytherin and Gryffindor were reported not to get along.” He continued, leaning forward intently, “You could say the same for the other Founders, I suppose. Slytherin had the right idea of how things in the school should be run. He wanted it protected from Muggles, wanted Hogwarts to be a haven for those of pure-blood. The others disagreed, thought that Mudbloods and _legitimate_ magical children should be taught side by side.” Draco gave a look of disgust to the small crowd, who looked empathetic.

Harry wanted to spit in his face, but the only sound that filled the momentary silence was the crackling of the fire.

“And so, before he left, Slytherin himself built a Chamber that only those of his bloodline, of pure, _deserving_ blood could access.” Draco grinned, something that twisted his pointed face, “It’s said hold a monster that would purge the school of Mudbloods. It was opened years ago, but it stopped after a student was finally killed. It seems that it’s happening again, though. About time, really.”

He felt his blood turn to ice, and then, begin to reheat at the word _Mudblood._ Hermione was Muggleborn…

“What kind of monster?” Pansy asked eagerly, “Like a werewolf?”

“Werewolves aren’t _monsters.”_ Draco sneered at her, making her cheeks redden, “They’re half-breeds.”

“The only half-breed here is _you!”_ Harry finally stalked forward, the group of students surrounding Draco parting like the Red Sea, “You think that’s _funny?”_

“It’s his _legacy.”_ Draco’s eyes glittered in amusement, “If you don’t get that, then all I can say is maybe you really _don’t_ belong here in Slytherin, Potter.”

“You think Muggleborns deserve to _die?”_ Harry’s voice rose, “Like they can _help_ it?”

“They’re not dead.” Draco rolled his eyes, “They’re only Petrified. It’s a fair warning that they shouldn’t be allowed to go here.”

“I don’t believe you.” Harry spat at him coolly, “If there was some monster lurking about the school harming kids, Professor Dumbledore would put a stop to it.”

_“Dumbledore_ can’t do anything!” He laughed, a humorless sounded that echoed off of Harry’s eardrums, “Only the _Heir_ can control the monster and access the Chamber!” He raised an eyebrow, “Rumor has it that person is _you,_ Potter, but I highly doubt it. You haven’t the stomach.”

Harry felt his fingers flex, itching to scratch off Malfoy’s face, but he simply mustered his remaining self control and glared. He didn’t trust himself to speak, at this point.

“Come on, Harry.” Damon’s voice called from behind him, calm and collected, “There’s nothing worth listening to here.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. The crowd looked rather confused as Harry stomped from the common room and up the stairs to his dormitory, anxious to get out and go Ariel-hunting. Maybe Snape was just keeping her locked away until this whole Chamber-Lucius-Draco thing blew over.

Maybe she’d heard the rumors and considered them.

“Harry, I’m…” Damon looked torn as Harry jerked upon his trunk, “I’m sorry… for _him._ What happened yesterday…”

“Not your fault.” Harry called, only half listening.

_Colin’s frozen face… stiff like metal and eyes glassy…_

Damon looked away, guiltily, “I didn’t think there was anything _serious_ about it. If I’d known that this chamber business was _real,_ I… I wouldn’t have joked about it…”

“Yeah… don’t worry –”

Harry froze, as the meaning of his words became clear. He turned slowly to look at him.

“You _knew?”_ He half asked, half accused.

“I thought it was just some stupid story Purebloods fancied true!” Damon said, but Harry didn’t hear him. He tore from the room without a backwards glance, grabbing his rucksack filled with Merlin-knew what.

“Harry!” Damon called after him, “Harry, please, I’m _sorry!”_

His head was pounding, heart racing. He couldn’t think straight anymore, he needed get out of there and find his sister. Ariel would know –

“Harry –”

“So you thought you’d leave me blind sided?” Harry snapped at Damon, turning as they hit the bottom of the stairs, “What about the _threat?”_ He emphasized the last word, knowing Damon would understand the meaning.

The whole room was staring at them again as they reentered, but neither seemed to notice.

“I didn’t think there was anything there either… the Chamber was opened decades ago, Harry! It’s _impossible_ for whoever the Heir was to be back!” Damon looked back to glare at his cousin, “Draco’s only trying to get a rise out of you.” 

“Colin was _Petrified!”_ Harry shouted at him, leaning forward. Now the entire Slytherin common room was staring at them. Draco’s eyes were dancing, like he’d somehow won some great victory.

Damon’s mouth snapped shut, and he looked away, stricken and ashamed, but Harry was far too flustered and on the brink of re-breaking his arm to care. He made his way to the door, feeling everyone’s eyes on the back of his head, when he heard it.

“Careful, Potty.” Draco called in a soft voice, “I’ve heard tell that your sister looks like your Mudblood mother. Maybe Slytherin’s monster won’t know the difference.”

Harry’s rucksack hit the ground like a sack of bricks.

“I am going,” He said, pronouncing each and every syllable, “to _RIP YOUR FACE OFF!”_

He couldn’t even enjoy Draco’s shriek as he lunged, sending them both tumbling over the back of the couch. Several of the girls screamed, scrambling to get out of the way as Harry’s fists collided with Draco’s nose with a fulfilling _CRACK!_ He didn’t stop there, however, feeling all of his rage at the Quidditch match slam into him full force, the anger of his sister not being there and Draco’s apparent smugness at it, the confusion and fear surrounding the Chamber of Secrets, and the realization that people had somehow begun to think it was _him._

Harry had managed to tug at a couple of fistfuls of gelled platinum blonde hair before someone grabbed both of his shoulders and roughly dragged him off of Draco, who was sputtering and coughing. He hadn’t even tried to fight back – only shield his face.

And then whoever had grabbed him spun him around, and Harry’s anger evaporated instantly.

Snape’s expression turned Harry’s insides into liquid nitrogen.

“Just _what,”_ He asked in a dangerous voice, “do you think you’re doing, Mr Potter?”

Harry gulped, but glared back evenly, “I’m just repaying the favor, sir.”

Snape’s nostrils flared as he grabbed Harry’s good arm (Harry noted that he was almost careful not to touch the other) and sent the turbulent storm that had become his face at Damon.

_“You,_ will take your cousin to the hospital wing.” Snape snapped at him.

Damon raised an eyebrow, watching the scene blandly, “With all due respect sir, I’d rather not.”

The room seemed to let out a collective gasp. Even Snape looked taken off guard by it, but he recovered long before the rest of them, and took a menacing step towards Damon, one fists holding Harry in a death-grip, the other clenched into a fist.

“I’ll do it, sir!” Pansy volunteered before Damon became a scorch mark on the wall. Harry let out a sigh of relief.

With one last warning glare for Damon, Snape turned and jerked his head at Malfoy and Pansy, who skittered from the room like it was on fire.

And then, Harry began his death march to Snape’s office.

He said nothing as he quite literally dragged Harry down the winding hallways, but Harry could read his face quite well, and it told him that he was probably going to die a slow and painful death.

It didn’t _feel_ like an impending doom, though, as it did in years past. On the contrary, Harry felt lifted, like something that had been held captive within him for far too long had been set free.

* * *

Of all the abysmally _foolish –_

Severus dumped the boy in a seat in the potions classroom and turned his back. He couldn’t _think_ straight when Potter made him angry. With Ariel, it was different, because he was accustomed to how she reacted. With the boy, those blasted green eyes would narrow and Severus was reminded of the day that Quirrell had grabbed him…

Of all the times for Potter to snap, it _had_ to be when Lucius had unleashed something unknown and uncontainable upon the school?

Severus whirled around as the green-eyed urchin glared defiantly up at him. He bent down and placed his wand to Potter’s arm in order to run a Diagnostic. He had somehow managed _not_ to break it, though it seemed that by the bruising on the boy’s other hand, he’d broken Draco’s nose with his good arm.

“You’re an idiot,” Severus told him, unkindly, “to risk re-breaking your arm over a bloody game.”

“It wasn’t over Quidditch.” Potter said, his confidence draining with every word.

Severus raised an eyebrow at him, “Oh? _Do_ entertain me as to _what_ could have caused you to brawl with him like some common Muggle, then.”

“He told me about the chamber.” He looked down at the hands in his lap, “And called my mum a Mudblood… said Ariel looked like her, and that the monster might attack her because of it.”

The fury burning in his chest roared at the word, wanted to reach out and strike Potter for even _saying_ it.

_(He hated that word hated it wanted it banned)_

When the time was right, Severus would make Draco squirm, and he’d never think to be so bold and arrogant and _so much_ like Lucius.

“I’m not sorry.” Potter said when Severus didn’t respond.

He had to keep an eye on him… had to make sure the brat didn’t get into anymore trouble with Slytherin’s bloody monster running about the school. But he couldn’t hold him up in his quarters like he could with Ariel…

An idea came over him, then. A way to keep the _both_ of them in his sights for the time being…

_You’re being unfair,_ said his Inner-Hufflepuff.

_But a good idea,_ said the Ravenclaw.

“That’s unfortunate.” Severus sneered, “Because I have two barrels of horned toads that need to be gutted.”

Potter blinked at him, anger creeping back into his face, “But I –”

With a flick of his wand, the barrels appeared, the corpses overflowing the both of them. Potter made a face.

“My _arm_ is healing!” He protested.

“You had no problem with that when you broke Mr Malfoy’s nose.”

“He called my mum –”

“I will _deal with him,_ Mr Potter.” Severus’ eyes flashed at him. The boy’s mouth snapped shut.

“But…” Potter looked distraught behind those horrid glasses of his, “I only have one good arm! It’ll take me all day!”

Yes, this would prove to work out well. Until Dumbledore figured all of this out…

“Then I suggest,” Severus said coldly, “you get started.”

* * *

Ariel rubbed at her face. Tom now allowed her to shake nervously behind the curtain as she awaited her Diagnostic results. Madam Pomfrey had sighed, like she’d been awaiting her arrival and had been dreading it.

Ariel had passed by the cot, and known instantly that whatever had happened to Colin – the Petrification or whatever her friends had been talking about at breakfast – was _her fault_. _She_ had done that. _She_ had hurt someone innocent… unable to protect themselves, and she didn’t even know _why._ Tom had simply been telling her how to respond in a reserved voice since last night. When Ariel had woken up that morning, her father had ushered her through the Floo to the infirmary.

“Your father worries far too much.” Madam Pomfrey muttered to Ariel as she’d run scans that spanned from head to toe, “Do you know how many students come in complaining of similar symptoms, when all it is is a case of stress and not enough sleep?”

“I told him that.” Ariel had felt herself say. Deep down below the surface of her mind, she pleaded that Madam Pomfrey would know, would see. Surely Tom couldn’t hide from diagnostic magic… surely _something_ would show up…

Madam Pomfrey’s mouth had twitched at her response, “I can only imagine. He worries enough for the entire staff.”

“Trust me, I know.” She couldn’t feel her face, not even make her features show that something wasn’t right.

But she hadn’t. Ariel could feel her face stay passive, as Tom watched, thoroughly satisfied. A part of her feared what would happen if someone _did_ begin to suspect that something was seriously wrong.

_Daddy dearest_

_The boy you call Harry_

Tom forced their images to the front of her mind when Ariel began to consider fighting. He’d began quiet – calculating.

It scared her more than his open backhands.

“Well, Miss Potter, it a pleasure for me to inform you that you are not ill.” Madam Pomfrey said as the curtain parted. She was wearing this knowing look that told Ariel that she’d most likely be lecturing Severus later on.

_No no no no no no_

“I figured.” Ariel rolled her eyes, testing. Tom seemed to approve, because nothing oppressive pressed against her chest at her response. She’d been listening to him all morning as she tried to devise a plan to get free of his control.

“I’m giving you a Pepper-Up for when you think you need it.” Madam Pomfrey handed her the potion, “Your father must have given you several by now if he suspected your health was declining.”

_“Take it.”_ Tom commanded immediately. Ariel took it and downed it with a single gulp. 

The medi-witch gave her an approving nod and walked away, leaving Ariel alone with Tom.

The silence was tense. She could feel his pleasure at not being discovered, though Ariel had a feeling that he knew he wouldn’t. She wanted to ask her _how, why,_ but was afraid her curiosity would only make things worse, as if things _could_ at this point.

_“Silencio.”_ Ariel heard herself say, her arm lifting itself like a rag doll’s.

“What are you doing?” She, _herself her whole her,_ asked him, trying to force some bite into her suddenly very tiny voice.

_“Your expression may not be as telling,”_ Tom said, sounding irritated, _“but your physical appearance says otherwise. Raise your wand to your face.”_

Ariel fought him this time. It shook terribly as she felt the wood press against her cheek.

_“Now that your meddling father and the Healer have had their suspicions disproved,”_ Tom murmured, _“it’s time that you began to look the part.”_

She closed her eyes and swallowed a whimper.

_“Apparent ut mentiuntur.”_ Ariel hissed. A tingling feeling settled over her, like a thousand needles points were dancing about, and then for a split second, she felt absolutely nothing.

“Miss Potter!” Madam Pomfrey’s voice called, sounding put upon once more.

She _(Tom Tom Tom)_ quickly canceled the Silencing Spell as Madam Pomfrey popped her head in again.

“Your father says to take the Floo back down to his quarters.” She looked her head to toe, raising an eyebrow, “You’ve gained some color. It seems that potion did just the trick.”

“I feel a little better.” Ariel admitted, her tongue numb.

“Then get a move on before your father thinks I’ve poisoned you.” Madam Pomfrey rolled her eyes and disappeared again. Ariel had the feeling she kept checking on Colin.

_“Look in the mirror.”_ Tom commanded, sounding thoughtful, _“I’d like to see the fruits of my labor.”_

Ariel curled her lip at him, but reluctantly turned to see what the charm had done. The feeling was slowly returning to her features. She blinked several times before raising her eyes to her reflection.

It differed greatly from what it had been just the night before. Her face had filled in a bit, her cheekbones not as pronounced, but still evident, for they were the part of her facial structure that made her look so much like her mum. There was a blush in her cheeks, the bags under her eyes fading before her eyes. Her hair shined a brilliant scarlet again.

Everything but her eyes. Ariel didn’t recognize those.

She felt her feet begin to move towards the Floo as Tom receded to the back of her mind for the moment, seemingly content with watching her… making sure Ariel didn’t step out of line. Down in her box, Ariel wriggled, and she felt a shock of pain. No, there was no way she could do anything now. She had to wait… buy time…

Her father was leaning against the front of his desk when she exited the Floo. He looked… stressed, or rather, more stressed than he typically was. His eyes were closed, fists tucked beneath his chin. He looked like how Tom _felt_ before…

“I’m fine,” Ariel swallowed audibly, a very, _very_ forced smile appearing on her face, “Told you.”

Severus slowly opened his eyes to look at her. She could still see that shadow of doubt there, and she rejoiced secretly, within the recesses of her mind where Ariel was still free and Tom couldn’t find her.

“You look… _better.”_ Her father allowed, still frowning.

_Don’t say that don’t think it_

_“He’s going to prove to be a problem.”_ Tom sighed, _“I can see it now.”_

Tom allowed her to hug him.


	43. Various Storms and Saints

_“It’s him!”_

_“Watch out!”_

_“Did you hear?”_

These were the whispers that surrounded Harry in the days following the attack. He was attending his classes in the daytime and sleeping in his dormitory at night, but the evenings were the times he found hardest to get through. Harry’s mind was whirring far too fast these days, hyper-sensitive to the chaos unfolding around him. He was painfully aware that whatever was behind the attacks on Mrs Norris and Colin Creevey was still at large, and he was convinced it was only a matter of time before the next victim was claimed. There was definitely an atmosphere of uncertainty at Hogwarts, which was not helped at all by the hushed tones that all the professors seemed to be talking to each other in.

Malfoy had seemed to be the ringleader of the Harry the Heir rumors. The day after Harry had broken his nose, he’d passed by the Slytherin table to see all of them, heads bent together, talking in hushed voices and eyes peeking over at him. He hadn’t dared sit at the Gryffindor table, because the looks he was getting from _them_ made his insides twist nauseatingly. Malfoy was the only one who's serious and fearful expression didn’t reach his eyes. They danced around Harry in circles, and made him want to smash a plate into his face. It was obvious that whatever was attacking students didn’t scare Malfoy in the slightest, but the temptation of making Harry miserable had seemed too good to pass up on.

Ron had voiced the idea of Malfoy himself being the Heir, which Hermione had seconded, but Harry had nearly fell over laughing at the idea. Malfoy had almost wet himself when Harry had launched himself at him. There was no way in hell he was going around ordering some _monster_ to do his Muggleborn spring cleaning.

The idea that none of them had even the slightest clue who it could be was the scariest thing of all.

There were still toad guts under Harry’s fingernails after he’d gotten back from Snape’s detention, seething and wanting to disappear like his sister apparently had.

Having to take things slow and carefully was not the only factor contributing to Harry’s frustration; he _still_ had yet to see Ariel _once_ since the Quidditch match. At first he was just upset – hurt, even – that she had not come and visited him in the hospital wing. Merlin knew that Ariel had been acting weird in the days before the match. She had barely let him have a minute of her attention last time they’d seen each other, so preoccupied with whatever she was scribbling in that damn book of hers.

Harry had not seen Ariel at all since then. Sure, Snape was likely to be keeping an extra close eye on her, but she hadn’t even been showing up at mealtimes lately. He wanted to ask Snape, see where Ariel was hiding away these days. He wondered, and came to the likely conclusion, that after the attack with Colin, Snape was probably keeping an annoyingly close eye on her. Harry would have asked Damon what she was like in classes, but he was still angry with him for not telling him about the Chamber when they’d all been talking about it at breakfast the other morning. _He’d_ been sitting at the Slytherin table, alone, looking up only to receive daggers from Harry and Ron.

Damon looked lonely, but Harry couldn’t help feeling like he was once again being kept out of some loop. He wondered if Damon had told Ariel and not him.

He wondered if he’d seen her in classes. Snape couldn’t be keeping her from _those_ if he was the reason for Ariel falling off the face of the earth.

Speaking of Snape, instead of the odd ignoring he had seemed to use when it came to Harry at the start of term, he was now seemingly _everywhere,_ around every corner Harry turned. He was getting detention left and right, no points taken, but he’d spent his evenings scrubbing cauldrons and gutting more bloody toads and scraping tubeworms off of the classroom desks under Snape’s watchful eye.

It was interceding with his Snape-snooping plans _and_ not letting him go Ariel-hunting.

A week of all of this, and he wasn’t hurt anymore. Harry was just _angry._ He almost wished Malfoy would provoke him again so he could break his nose, but he’d drawn his curtains around his bed every time Harry entered their room and avoided him like the plague.

Yet another dinner with no sight nor sound of his sister, Harry decided it was time to go looking for her. There was no doubt she’d be in Snape’s quarters, but Harry was not sure whether he would find her barricaded there, or staying inside of her own free will. Biting the bullet, he fed Ron and Hermione some yarn about needing to go back to the Slytherin common room, and headed out of the Great Hall and down to the dungeons. Instead of taking the right hand corridor as usual, Harry took the left fork, heading instead straight to Snape’s quarters.

Harry slowed as he neared the heavy oak door, listening for any sign of life inside. He knew that Snape was still at dinner, having made sure he was seated at the staff table before he took his leave. Even though Snape knew this castle like the back of his hand, Harry was sure that even he could not have gotten down here quicker, if he decided to follow him from dinner.

If he even cared enough to be watching him tonight.

Harry leaned his forehead close to the door.

_“Pacem.”_ He whispered, hearing the lock click open inside.

He crept in, calling out his sister’s name as he rounded the corner to the sitting room. He saw a head of red hair leaning down so that a face was hidden.

She was just… _sitting there._

“Ariel?” Harry called again softly, creeping over to the arm of the couch.

She still didn’t respond to him. As he moved to stand in front of her, Harry saw that her eyes were wide, unblinking and focused with a frightening intensity on an open notebook in her lap.

“Ariel!” He waved her hand in front of her face, his anger dissipating. Concern washed over him like a flood as his sister stayed still, her eyes glazed over and glued to the book like there was some sort of intense pull keeping her there.

The sight frightened him, even if this was somehow _normal_ for Ariel.

Harry grabbed her shoulder and shook, _hard,_ but there was still no response. Her neck and head simply bobbed along, straightening when he stopped jerking her about.

_“Ariel!”_ He grabbed her face, tossing the notebook to the ground with the toss of his hand, “Ariel, can you hear me?”

Nothing. Not even her eyes seemed to move.

He straightened up, panicking. What was _wrong_ with her? Should he go and get Snape? She didn’t _look_ sick – Ariel _looked_ fine, but to be so unresponsive…

Desperate, Harry took to the bookcases crammed full of literature that covered the walls, frantically looking for something, _anything_ that would awaken her from this strange trance. He didn’t know what was causing it – was _this_ why she hadn’t been around? – and hadn’t any clue where to begin…

Maybe a potion would help? But that was ridiculous, Harry growled as he flipped through a textbook that seemed to talk about something called Unforgivables _(why the hell did Snape have all this dark stuff anyway?)._ He didn’t know nearly enough to identify a kind of potion that would make Ariel herself again. Instead, Harry ripped another book off the shelf, loose pages spilling across the floor. This one was about the properties of unicorn hair…

_Damn damn damn!_

Harry spun around, running over to Snape’s desk. All of the drawers, save the very bottom one, of course, were still glued shut. He shifted through the old envelopes and empty ink pots, the broken quills and empty vials. The desk itself was littered with what appeared to be half-graded essays, some decorated with red ink, others untouched. Harry paid no mind to them, however, shuffling through them and looking for something, _anything…_

This was pointless. He didn’t even know where to begin. Harry _wanted_ to go and get Snape, but was afraid of leaving Ariel alone in this state. What if she left?

Perhaps Snape labeled his potions in his private stores. Maybe he could go through there…

It was a longshot, but Ariel was starting to _really_ freak him out. She still hadn’t moved…

Harry stalked towards the door that lay just to the left, right behind Snape’s desk. He’d never seen what lay beyond this one, but had guessed it must have been some kind of storeroom. The only other in view was Ariel’s bedroom, and _that_ would just be wasting time.

He jerked the door open, hearing it click and stepped inside, darkness meeting his eyes. He raised his hand and quickly cast a _Lumos,_ lifting his wand –

Harry’s jaw dropped.

He’d stepped into Snape’s _bedroom. Not_ a potion’s storeroom.

Get _out,_ his conscious screeched, his mind already beginning to whirl into fight or flight mode. If Snape walked in and saw him in there, he’d be dead within _seconds._ Forget Ariel – it was _Harry_ who would be the vegetable.

Harry couldn’t help but peer around. The walls were dark – green, perhaps, but he could barely make it out with such dim light. There was a bed against the far wall, a huge canopy bed with darker sheets. Two nightstands sat on either side of it, and a chest that looked ancient and expensive that sat at the foot of the bed. The silver from it sparkled, capturing Harry’s attention. He slowly walked towards it, raising his wand over it.

The silver was so bright in the wand-light that it was nearly blinding. There were intricate designs, ribbons flowing and billowing about it, little symbols Harry didn’t recognize in the slightest covering the chest in it’s entirety. Runes, perhaps? Damon had said he and Ariel were taking a class on that, hadn’t he? Harry briefly wondered what they meant, but then he saw the two snakes, entwined together right above a rather large keyhole.

“Want to see what’s inside?”

Harry jumped where he stood. He whirled around, meeting the sight of his sister, standing in the doorway.

“You… you…” He nearly dropped his wand, “You’re okay!”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Ariel said in a funny sort of voice.

Harry cocked his head, and she mirrored his actions.

“Ariel?” He asked, very quietly, “Are you...?”

“Har-ee?” She imitated back, “Are you having fun in here?”

“What are you –” Harry looked back down at the chest, then back to her, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, “I wasn’t going through it! You were in some weird trance…”

“Of course you weren’t.” said Ariel. “You can’t open it, anyways.”

“I already said I _wasn’t –”_

“Don’t you _want_ to?” Her black eyes glittered, and something about it made Harry feel like he was falling from his broom again. She smiled, and Harry was quite sure her face would split in two. With a wave of her hand a rush of wind passed him –

Harry heard a soft _click,_ and then, Ariel turned on her heel, red hair bouncing about her shoulders.

“Ariel, _wait!”_ He called after her, turning to slam the chest closed as the lid begin to rise. His hand froze, though, like something was holding him there.

The first thing he saw was a mask, and Harry’s curiosity piqued.

He leaned over so that he was looking directly inside. It was sitting atop a folded pile of what seemed to be robes. Harry lowered his wand into the chest to get a better look, finding that the black robes were silky – more elegant than Snape’s usual woolen teaching robes. The mask itself made the hair on the back of Harry’s neck prick. There was a grated opening where the mouth was supposed to be, the same artistic designs on the chest were on the mask, which was the same exact shade of silver as the chest. The two eyeholes stared back up at him, hollow and lifeless, but something significant in them Harry couldn’t put his finger on.

And then he saw the letters.

They were littered about, some in already opened envelopes, some just lone pieces of folded parchment. Harry carefully lifted one with the tips of his fingers, and opened it.

Harry was able to read two words before he slammed the trunk closed.

_Love, Lily_

Well, there was his proof. Instead of being cathartic, somehow, Harry felt more set apart. Snape had known his mother, yes, but then…

He put out his light and stalked from Snape’s bedroom, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary. He found Ariel facing the fire, standing in front of the flames _too_ closely. She turned as Harry walked forward, a million questions on his lips, but he didn’t get the chance to ask.

That strange smile was gone, leaving behind something that made Ariel look more like her usual self _._

“It’s been _you_ rummaging around, hasn’t it?” Her hands were on her hips, something around her black iris’ that resembled frost.

“I was trying to _help!”_ Harry crossed the room in one swift movement, so that he was only a foot away from her, “You were… I didn’t know what to do! What is _wrong_ with you? Is _that_ why you haven’t been around?”

“I’m _fine.”_ Ariel said coldly.

“But you _weren’t_ before!”

“Why _wouldn’t_ I be?” Ariel sneered, standing up and balling her fists at her sides, “What do you think you’re doing, snooping through his stuff anyway?”

“You weren’t moving.” Harry shook his head in disbelief, “You were in some sort of weird trance…”

Harry suddenly got the impression that he wasn’t very welcome. This was the way Snape had regarded him last year, before Ariel had shouted at him and given him the silent treatment. Her eyes were accusing, void of the normal warmth they usually held in them. Even when Harry had seen Ariel _angry,_ a fire ignited in them. The light never left. He’d noticed that, and wondered if that’s how their mum had looked when she’d been alive.

“I was just trying to _help.”_ Harry bristled, feeling a bit attacked.

“I didn’t ask for it!”

“You haven’t been doing a lot of things lately, it seems.” He felt his cheeks redden in growing irritation, “I haven’t seen you since before the Slytherin game, when, you know, Malfoy knocked me off a damn broomstick.”

“But did you _die?”_ Ariel rolled her eyes, and something in Harry’s chest hurt at the uncaring gesture.

“I just thought you…” Harry bit the inside of his cheek in an attempt to smother the lump in his throat, “You didn’t even come and see me! I haven’t seen you in _days.”_

“Because I’ve been stuck _here!”_

“Because of the chamber?” He gave her a skeptical look.

“I don’t _know why –”_

“Whatever the hell Slytherin’s monster is, it’s only attacking Muggleborns, apparently.” Harry told her darkly, “We’re not Muggleborns. Mum and Dad were wizards.”

“Don’t lecture me that I don’t know that already!” Ariel snapped at him, her nose scrunching in a way that made her look all the more furious.

“So then why would Snape keep you here?” He demanded, “You’re obviously sick!

“No, I’m _not!”_ She grabbed the notebook she’d been staring down at, flipping it open as she fell back down to the couch.

“Show me the book, then.” said Harry.

It went very, eerily quiet. Ariel seemed to have frozen in time once more as he walked around the coffee table and towards her, hand outstretched to receive it. Her eyes were locked on the fire.

“Why?” Ariel asked in a quiet, unsteady voice.

“You were staring at it when I came in.” Harry said, “You… weren’t _here,_ Ariel!”

“It’s _my_ diary.” Her head turned slowly, and when she did, her face was hollow, “I’m not letting you _touch_ it, let alone _read it.”_

“A _diary?”_ He raised an eyebrow at her, “Since when do you keep a diary?”

“Since when do _you_ think you have a right to question my every move?” Ariel stood suddenly, so abruptly that it startled him, “Are you my keeper?”

“I’m your brother.” Harry responded with the same amount of force in his voice, “We’re supposed to tell each other things.”

She barked a laugh, so sharp it felt like a bullet in the night, slicing, cutting, “So what do you call looking around my father’s quarters when you think I’m not paying any attention?”

His chest seized. Harry willed himself to be steady, but _how,_ she _couldn’t have –_

“I’ll tell him.” Ariel said coldly, “I know it’s you.”

It took a moment for the threat to register on his wavelength, and when it did, it felt like something had shattered his chest. Harry started back at her, the wound she’d ripped into him, a betrayal he may have deserved, but one nonetheless, out in the open and stinging.

Harry wondered if Ariel felt it too.

He broke from the room and up to the alcove near the Astronomy Tower, and held the acorn in his hands. Something wasn’t adding up… something was wrong with his sister, and she wasn’t telling him what it was, and Snape wasn’t either… unless… Snape didn’t know either. It would explain his nastiness as of late…

Harry suspected it had something to do with that notebook… the events surrounding the Chamber and Ariel acted so strange couldn’t just be a coincidence. He had to talk to Snape… but how was he going to do _that_ without making it sound like he was calling Ariel the Heir?

_Maybe she is,_ a voice breathed in his ear.

_Wrong, wrong, wrong._

* * *

It

_hurt._

It hurt _so_ much, and Tom had simply laughed and laughed…

In her box, Ariel wondered why her father hadn’t felt anything. He had wards wards _wards,_ why hadn’t he…

Tom had allowed her to cry, but just enough to harbor it and suppress. It was weakness. It was a suppressant.

It was best, was what she told herself. If Harry stayed away, if he _pushed,_ then Tom…

He must have done this before.

Severus had come in to find her asleep _(asleep, she hadn’t slept soundly in_ so _long)_

Either Tom was powerful, or was _growing_ in power.

Both thoughts terrified her.

* * *

Something was wrong with Potter, as if Severus didn’t have enough to worry about already.

The boy had sat with his head resting upon his elbow the entire class, looking dejected and lost. His eyes hadn’t lifted themselves once from the tabletop, no matter how many times Weasley and Granger tried to pry his attention away. Not even the jabs Malfoy sent his way every couple of minutes seemed to be affecting him.

One day, Potter was throwing punches and breaking bones, and the next, he was acting like his fucking owl had died.

Severus wondered if it had to do with the Chamber.

Giving the boy detentions meant he was where Severus could make sure he wasn’t out trying to find Slytherin’s bloody monster or uncover the location of the legendary place and the monster it housed. Potter had already shown he had a knack for getting into trouble last year, when he’d uncovered the mystery of the Stone and unwittingly dragged Ariel along for the ride. Granted, Quirrell had _kidnapped him,_ but he’d been suspicious of Severus, going out of his way, along with his cronies, to look for clues…

He could keep the girl near, but the boy was harder to contain. Surely the Slytherins would notice if Potter wasn’t coming to bed every night. Severus could simply tell them to mind their own business, but he couldn’t conceal the brat in his quarters forever without raising a few eyebrows. At night, the Slytherin dormitories were monitored by him, but any other time, Severus found himself itching to grab the little urchin and confine him there.

The last thing he needed was _more_ suspicion surrounding Harry Potter.

Speaking of just that, perhaps it was the rumor that Potter was the one who had Petrified the Creevey boy.

He snorted at the thought every time it crossed his mind. The day that a Potter, least of all James Potter’s spawn, was the direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin, Severus would no sooner be a Hufflepuff. Not Lily’s child, even if he was half demon-sent-hell spawn could be capable of such things.

“Do you want to throw in the newt eyes, Harry?” Granger asked the boy, tearing Severus away from his musings.

“Why bother?” Potter muttered, “I might Petrify them and ruin the stupid potion.”

“C’mon mate,” Weasley sounded annoyingly empathetic, like _he_ knew anything about unfair misjudgments, “I hate potions as much as the next guy, but it’ll take your mind off of things.”

“Why don’t you throw in the eyes?” Granger suggested, like that would somehow magically make the boy feel better, “Seriously, Harry, you haven’t done any work all class.”

“The potion’s not ready for them, yet.” Potter said into his hand.

“The book says –”

“Look at Snape’s notes on the board.” He jerked his head in Severus’ direction, “It says to wait till it’s cooled and the solution is green. It’s still yellow.”

Granger frowned, “But the textbook –”

And the next sentence was so quick, so fast and unfocused, that he would have missed it had Severus not been paying attention.

Potter threw his hands in the air, “Fine, don’t believe me!” He grabbed a handful, not bothering to count, to Severus’ horror, and then –

_“POTTER!”_ He roared, sending a Shielding charm at the three of them as the ingredients hit the potion, and it promptly exploded. The surrounding tables let out a collective gasp and ducked for cover under their desks, not that it would have done them any good.

The three of them had shielded their faces as the potion had flown, but luckily, Severus’ charm had done its job. It had dispersed to the table and floor around them, but hadn’t touched any of them. Granger looked like she wanted to cry, while a growing look of relief was falling across Weasley’s. Potter looked…

Severus was going to kill him. Something aching and great was pounding against his skull, reaching all the way down to his heart as he imagined what could have happened if he hadn’t… all because the little _fool_ hadn’t been paying any attention –

“What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing, Potter?” Severus snarled as he billowed over, grabbing the boy’s robes, “What the _hell_ was _that?”_

“I must have made a mistake.” He said in a tiny voice as he shrank away, “I…”

“You added _more_ than _two!”_ Severus seethed, wanting to rip that terrified look off the brat’s face, because it was his own goddamn _fault,_ the thoughtless little –

“I…” Potter blinked, a hung his head, “I’m sorry… I wasn’t thinking…”

_“Clearly.”_ Severus hissed. The statement was accompanied with a snort from Malfoy, and Severus felt the last of his self control towards Lucius’ son slip. “Do you wish to say something, Mr Malfoy?” He sent a cracking warning at the blonde boy, whose eyes widened in fear.

“N-no, sir, I –”

“Silence!” He boomed, and turned his attention back to Potter trying to look as small as possible. _“Detention.”_ Severus let go of the brat’s robes, _“Tonight._ Now, all of you, _get out.”_

They scattered immediately, though, to Severus’ growing bewilderment, Potter almost _hesitated._ Thankfully, Granger pulled him away, looking concerned and a touch apprehensive.

A sense of calm almost fell over him, then. Tonight, another night of knowing the girl was just through those doors leading to his quarters, the boy within his sights until curfew was in place. Another day of knowing Lucius’ threat couldn’t touch them.

He was going to go mad if he continued like this. Had it really come to _this?_

The detention came soon enough, the beginnings of winter tinting the November air that crept through the dungeons that night. Ariel had been spending a considerable amount of time in his quarters lately, where she’d eaten most of her meals and slept. Severus wondered if the boy had spoken to her at all, if they’d been plotting or trying to debunk the rumors floating about the school. It seemed Bellatrix’s son was on the outs with Potter, for he hadn’t sat with him and the other two Gryffindors at meals, looking rather sullen and lonely. Not that Severus cared, but it was rather peculiar. Ariel hadn’t mentioned anything happening between them… come to think of it, Severus realized she hadn’t spoken about the Chamber at all.

It didn’t matter, he told himself as a knock reached his ears – the sound of forlorn Potter-Lily spawn coming to regret their reckless, foolhardy actions.

“Enter.” Severus called.

Potter stepped into the room, slowly working his way up the rows of desks. His robes were ruffled, like he’d been running. Severus wondered, with a mental eye roll, if Potter had somehow forgotten.

“There are a row of desks that need cleaning.” He jerked his head to the far right of the classroom, “Tubeworms. You’ll find a brush in the sink. I want them spotless, Mr Potter.”

“Yes, sir.” The boy said blandly, and walked away. No angry glint of his mother’s emerald eyes. No slightly annoyed scowl.

What was –

To hell with it, Severus thought, grabbing the first of a stack of essays from Ariel’s year. Cormac McLaggen had successfully used the wrong form of _your_ a whopping four fucking times within the first two sentences of his essay, which Severus took great pleasure in correcting.

He looked up. Potter had already begun scrubbing, a look of great determination on his face.

Severus went back to the essay, pressing the quill, dipped in his signature red ink, to the parchment –

The boy looked upset, and Severus couldn’t concentrate. He reminded himself that if the boy _didn’t_ look upset, Severus _still_ wouldn’t be able to focus.

Damn it all to hell, what did he care?

Potter’s lips were set in a straight line, like he was fighting the urge to cry. Severus cocked his head, studying Potter with a newfound sense of unnerve. He could see the lines in his face, the force he was putting into the scrubbing, how it seemed like his life depended on it, like he was channeling something…

“Mr Potter.” He called, setting down his quill.

The motion quickened. Severus rose, leaning over his desk, _“Mr_ Potter.”

Harder, faster, harsher. Potter kept going, like he wasn’t hearing him. He stalked over, standing no more than two feet away, and reached out his hand.

_“Potter –”_

The brush dropped to the ground with a clatter, and the boy’s eyes met his, tears suddenly overflowing down his face.

“It wasn’t me.” said Potter.

Severus’ eyes narrowed, “What the blazes are you –”

“I didn’t hurt Colin.” The boy’s eyes shined with fresh tears. Severus couldn’t stand the sight of it, hated it, _hated it –_

He simply stared back at the boy and wondered if he should summon Poppy.

“It’s not _me!”_ Potter cried again, hitting the table with the palms of his hands.

“I know that!” Severus snapped, finding his voice, “I was with you, Mr Potter.” _Why_ was this plaguing the brat _now?_  

“So why does everyone think it was me?” He whispered, not answering his question.

“Because they need someone to blame.” Severus told him, “They’re fearful, and so, they blame the one who stands out.”

Potter blinked back at him, obviously not understanding. The tears had, _thank fucking Merlin,_ ceased.

Severus gave another, heavier, sigh, motioning for the boy to take a seat in front of his desk. He did so obediently, sitting up straight, attentively. He looked like Granger when Severus began a lecture on a new area of potions.

“You are Slytherin, yes?” Potter nodded in confirmation at Severus’ question, “And tell me, Mr Potter, what you have learned from observing the other House’s attitudes towards those in Slytherin?”

“They don’t…” His eyebrows furrowed, “trust us. Sometimes. Because Voldemort was a Slytherin.”

“Correct.”

“But… just because I’m Slytherin doesn’t mean –”

“Can you think of nothing else that would make you susceptible?” Severus gave him a knowing look.

It took him a moment, and Severus knew Potter realized it as well when his green eyes lit up, and then, dimmed, “Defeating Voldemort?”

He made a sound of discontent at the term _defeat,_ but nodded, “Power like the Dark Lord’s can only be defeated by two things.”

“Professor Dumbledore said it was my mum.”

The tips of Severus’ fingers turned to ice, “Yes, but it would seem that the rest of student body has come to a drastically _different_ conclusion.”

“Dark magic.” The boy’s eyes fell to his lap, defeated. The sight was so un-James-Potter-like that it nearly made Severus flinch. He simply nodded at the child, not trusting himself to speak.

“But… with what happened last year with Quirrell…” Potter looked helpless.

“Proves nothing to them, but to those close to you, Mr Potter.” Severus said quietly, “It should matter very little to you what those little idiots think or say.”

“So you don’t think I’m the Heir?”

Merlin, the words themselves were so ridiculous that Severus almost wanted to laugh at them.

“No, Mr Potter.” He said dryly, “I do not.”

“Does Ariel?”

How was it that the boy had taken him so _blatantly_ off guard this many times in a row?

“Why in Merlin’s name would your _sister_ of all people be so dimwitted to believe in fictitious ideas?” Severus demanded, wondering if they had argued and he somehow hadn’t realized. What would there be for them to argue _about?_ Ariel hadn’t said anything…

She hadn’t said anything of substance in days.

“She’s… different.”

“How so?” Severus asked sharply. He could feel his heartbeat quickening.

“She’s distant.” Potter twiddled his thumbs and refused to meet Severus’ imploring gaze.

His heart skipped a beat.

It wasn’t

just him.

_Wrong wrong wrong, something was wrong_

“I can assure you,” Severus said, his mouth bone dry, “that Ariel doesn’t think that in the slightest. She’s shown… little interest in whatever is happening with the chamber of secrets, and so should you, Mr Potter.” He stood, feeling a pull towards the girl in his quarters, “Go to your dormitory. Your punishment has been fulfilled.”

“But… sir…” Potter suddenly looked uncertain. “There’s… something not right with her.”

Severus could _feel_ it in his bones – feel the vindication that he wasn’t going completely mad. There was something wrong with Ariel, and _he wasn’t the only one that thought it –_

“What do you mean?” Severus asked, keeping his voice steady and face smooth. Had he seen something Severus hadn’t? Had the girl told him something?

“I went to go and see her the other night in your quarters.” Potter squirmed, looking terribly guilt-ridden. “When I first walked in she was writing in that stupid diary she keeps around, but she was… in some weird trance. I kept shaking her and calling her name, but she wouldn’t move. I didn’t know where you were… and then, Ariel just broke out of it, and she snapped at me to get out.”

Severus lips felt numb, swallowing the demand to know every microscopic detail of the event. He needed to stay calm – a trance? What did that mean? And what did the fucking notebook have to –

He’d never seen her act the way Potter had been describing… unless… Ariel had been hunched over the book at Potter’s Quidditch match… and then her outburst right after…

Was she dabbling in dark magic? Ariel would _have_ to be, Severus deduced slowly, if Potter was telling the truth about the state he’d found her in. Dark magic took and took and took until nothing was left… it would explain why Ariel was so distant, why her temper was beyond anything Severus had ever seen her spit. It wasn’t Lily… it was _Severus;_ in a light he’d never wanted Ariel to be in.

Was she doing it to find the Heir, to find the Chamber, the way she’d used dark magic to find Potter her first year?

Potter looked like he was going to start crying again. Severus’ hands felt like ice. Something was wrong with his child – something was _very_ wrong, and Ariel was trying to hide it from him. She didn’t talk to him like she had during the summer. The night she’d cried out in pain… that she was under the Cruciatus again… her emotionlessness… what had happened to the child Severus had raised?

Poppy had said… but no, this was deeper.

His heart tugged in the direction of his quarters, where Ariel was.

“I will… investigate.” Severus said, clasping his hands together with so much force that his fingers cracked. “Thank you for telling me, Potter.”

Wide, green eyes looked up at him. “What… what do you think it is?”

He had no fucking clue, and that was what terrified him.

“This is the first I’m hearing of it.” Severus lied, not knowing why his chest tightened as he spoke.

Potter bit his lip. “I just feel… like I’m betraying her –”

“Don’t,” He very nearly snapped. “you did the… _responsible_ thing telling me, Mr Potter. Now go – I’d like to get my hands on that book, and I have a feeling your sister won’t hand it over without a fight.”

He could see it now – Ariel would glare at him, her anger twisting her small, thin face, and Severus would roar that he was doing what was best, and she’d snarl back – do what was _best…_ is that what you told yourself when you become a _Death Eater –_

“Thank you, sir.” Potter said quietly.

Severus could hear that the words weren’t at letting Potter out early, letting him leave without learning his lesson because Lily’s son had nearly _blown himself up –_

The boy suddenly turned, his mouth parted like he was about say something. Fathomless green eyes asked – hid a truth. But Potter only bit his lip, gave Severus a single nod, and was gone.

The boy had almost smiled at him.

Severus fell back into his chair and rubbed his face in horror. Had he just… _comforted…_ the green-eyed, spectacle wearing urchin…Merlin help him –

The blaring of his wards were a welcomed distraction.

* * *

Ariel slipped from the door of her father’s quarters, swifter than the early winter wind and softer than moonlight.

_“If you think this is the proper way to protect him, you’re mistaken.”_ Tom whispered, sounding amused by her actions. He couldn’t hear her thoughts, per say, but he could feel her emotions and dictate her actions when he wanted to. Ariel had been careful, practicing a bit of the Occlumency her father had taught her to keep her mind from wandering to Harry’s when she slept, like it had her first year.

Staying with Severus meant that he was in Tom’s direct line of fire, when and if he wanted to to attack. Ariel couldn’t stand living in a state of knowing Tom could harm him anymore, and so, tonight, while he was in detention with whoever had gotten in his way, Ariel had made her escape.

Her father would know Ariel had left within seconds, but she doubted he’d go all the way up to Gryffindor Tower to get her that night, or that Professor McGonagall would let him if he asked her to _make_ her come down.

Ariel didn’t answer Tom. She rarely did, now. Silence was usually the best response.

_“This will only make him all the more suspicious,”_ He growled, _“despite the fact that he has no reasons to doubt. The man’s proven to be annoyingly paranoid. However do you deal with it?”_

“It’s called caring about someone.” Ariel said under her breath, sprinting up the first of many staircases leading to her tower, “Not that _you_ would know anything about it.”

_“I suppose you’re right.”_ Tom said thoughtfully, _“It’s one of the many things that make you a spineless thing, really. You care a great deal for him. It’s almost too easy.”_

“Dumbledore says love is the greatest form of magic.” She snapped back, “It’s what saved my brother and I all those years ago. It’s the _only_ known combatant of dark magic –”

Her airway was suddenly cut off from her lungs, and Ariel gripped the railing to keep her legs from giving out underneath her.

_“Albus Dumbledore,”_ Tom hissed, _“is nothing more than an old codger that preaches ideals that do nothing but bring pain. Tell me, Ariel, for all the love your mother had, was it enough to save her?”_

Ariel gasped, collapsing on the stairs. She tried to bury her sorrow at the knives that had become words where her will was being held.

_“And if you think that the man you’ve chosen to place so much trust in could possibly care for you,”_ Tom laughed, a hard, terrible sound that felt like buzzing inside her head, making her teeth rattle, _“you’re a fool, Ariel Potter. What will he do when he realizes what you and what you’ve done? He’ll cast you away. He does not love you unconditionally. I can see how you wrestle with that and try so very hard to convince yourself it’s not true.”_

“You don’t know _anything_ about him!” Ariel wheezed back. She prayed he wouldn’t force himself into her thoughts – he hadn’t, _yet._ She could only imagine what he would say if he were to find out Severus really _was_ her father… he could tell Harry…

From somewhere several paces behind her, Ariel heard the sound of boots hitting the ground and a very familiar snarl.

Ariel’s heart turned to ice and she threw it away from her. From now on, she had to stay far, _far_ away from Severus until she could get rid of Tom. Ariel couldn’t become an orphan _again._ Her existence couldn’t take away her dad too… not him…

The fact that he would willingly die, knowingly or unknowingly, for her, for _them,_ terrified her beyond anything Tom threatened to do to her.

_It’s the mere fact that he exists, really_

Of course he was going after her.

She quickened her steps, the Fat Lady already in her sights.

_There is no world in which you or Potter die and I live that I wish to exist_

For her eyes only, he’d shown her his heart. He’d trusted her, and Ariel had seen what her mum had…

How could she have been so stupid _stupid stupid…_

Oh gods, what was she going to do?

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, Severus was ambushed just as he was about to do just that. Ariel wasn’t anywhere to be found in the Great Hall, which meant that his suspicions were confirmed – she was hiding from him, and that fucking diary had something to do with it.

He’d felt the wards go off just as Potter had left after his detention.

“Was Ariel Potter here?” Severus had demanded of the Fat Lady, his fingers itching to rip the portrait back and grab his daughter.

“Moments ago.” She’d sniffed, looking down at him distastefully, “Climbed on through for the first time in several days.”

He had stood there for a good ten minutes, pacing in front of the portrait hole and wondering if he should wake Minerva and _drag her out._ How _dare she…_ didn’t she _know…_ stupid, _stupid_ girl… did she think this some kind of _game?_

What was she _hiding_ in that diary? What didn’t Ariel want him knowing?

Lucius’ threat had stayed at the back of his mind and festered. Severus wanted to take her and go back to Spinner’s End until this madness ended, but he couldn’t just _leave…_

He wondered, if Lucius truly was the catalyst, why he thought Slytherin’s monster would target the girl, or at least, put her at risk. The creature was supposed to target Muggleborns, and Ariel was a Halfblood. Perhaps he thought that because Lily had been Muggleborn… that would be enough…

Severus wanted to go and wait by the portrait for her again that morning, wanted to whisk her away back down to the dungeons. The rational part of him, withering by the second, told him the girl was fine, was _safe,_ but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still terribly wrong.

“Severus,” Dumbledore stood behind his chair just as he was about to stand and take his leave, “I have a proposition for you.”

“Unless it’s the Defense position,” Severus said snidely, “I’m afraid it will have to wait.”

Minerva, who seemed to be taking her time with her meal this morning, eyed them with a suspicious gleam in her eye.

Dumbledore smiled instead, ignoring the comment, “Gilderoy has just had a wonderful idea…”

“No, he hasn’t.” Severus said nastily, unable to help himself. Minerva snorted into her teacup, while Pomona and Filius shared a knowing look.

“He suggested a Dueling Club.” Dumbledore twiddled his thumbs. Severus couldn’t even walk away and act like he wasn’t hearing this, for he was trapped in between the table and the old coot.

“A fine idea.” He said flatly, “Perhaps one of the older students could teach him a thing or two.”

“I had a wonderful thought, one that Gilderoy supported as well.”

“It couldn’t have been anything _near_ wonderful then, Albus. The man is –”

“We thought,” Dumbledore interrupted, his tone clearly told Severus this had all been _his_ bloody concoction, “that you could assist him.”

_Absolutely fucking NOT_ was the very first thing that threw itself across Severus’ mind. It was _insulting,_ to assist the babbling eyesore in an area that Severus himself was an _expert_ in, the job _he_ fucking deserved…

And then he realized that he’d been given an opportunity to curse and Hex and Stun Lockhart, _with_ all the little dunderheads watching. It wasn’t even an opportunity – it was a _gift,_ wrapped up in the kind of wrapping paper families like the Malfoy’s used at Christmas, with a big red bow. Revenge for the hinkypunk and red cap. Revenge for Potter’s arm. Revenge for putting Ariel through such ordeals in front of her peers. Revenge for being an insufferable _halfwit._

“Of course.” Severus replied mildly.

Dumbledore beamed. Minerva looked like she’d swallowed a hairball.

“Today, perhaps, after lunch?” Dumbledore asked, and Severus gave the briefest of nods, “Splendid! I’m sure the students will find it comforting in the midst of recent events.”

A stage had been set up in the Great Hall later that day, just as Dumbledore had promised, replacing the student’s tables for the afternoon. There was a large crowd of the little cretins surrounding it, chattering excitedly, no doubt looking forward to putting one another in the infirmary. It was a horrible idea, probably the worst Dumbledore had ever entertained, but the prospect of injuring Lockhart was just far too tempting to pass up.

Severus searched the crowd as Lockhart beamed down at the hell spawn, looking for any sign of his daughter. He could easily grab her afterwards. If not, Ariel had potions tomorrow, but he could hardly wait until then. Slytherin’s monster was still afoot and Severus’ blood pressure was reaching dangerous new heights.

“Hello, hello!” Lockhart greeted everyone with that infuriating smile, “Can you all see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!”

The Slytherins had mostly gathered around Severus’ section of the stage, the majority of the female population behind Lockhart. Granger was among them, her face wide in nauseating admiration. Weasley was standing in the middle of the crowd, the part that didn’t favor Lockhart nor Snape, and were probably hoping to see the both of them finish each other off. Well, they’d have their wishes granted for _one_ of the parties.

Potter was standing with Bellatrix’s son to Severus’ left, Malfoy on his right. They looked like they were having a serious conversation, both of their heads bent low and calculating. Severus silently thanked whatever deities listening that they’d at least been smart enough to stay away from each other for this. He made a mental note to make sure that Lockhart didn’t try and pair them off.

There was a flash of dark red in Severus’ peripheral vision. He followed the head with laser beam precision. He hadn’t been expecting Ariel _not_ to come, but he still found himself surprised by her presence, and a bit reassured. Severus could only imagine that she was more eager than anyone to see Lockhart Hexed. The thought almost warmed his heart, but then he remembered what Potter had said.

Her eyes briefly met his, and he made sure that his glare clearly read, _“after this, you’re **mine.”**_

She blinked back, unphased by it — was that a _fucking eye roll —_ and made a beeline to what Severus assumed was Potter.

"Allow me to introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," Lockhart was practically glittering with the amount of enthusiasm in his voice. Severus wanted to snap his neck, "He tells me he knows a teensy bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a small demonstration. But don't worry – you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him – never fear!"

Lockhart was going on about the Disarming charm now with several unnecessary long metaphors. Severus turned his attention back to the girl, who had wormed her way through the crowd and managed to find a spot next to Potter, who sent her something akin to a shrug. Ariel reached a hand up, as if to touch his shoulder, but the boy moved over a couple of inches, and her face fell.

“Alrighty then!” Lockhart rubbed his hands together, “Let us give you all a demonstration. I can’t promise that you’ll still have a potions master by the end of this –”

A slow and painful death, _slow_ and _painful._

“– but I will do my best!” He laughed, giving Severus a bow so ridiculous that he was quite sure it hadn’t been entertained for several hundred years.

Severus gave a jerk of his head, something that resembled a nod, and stalked to the other side of the stage.

“One!” Lockhart counted. "Two…”

_“Expelliarmus!”_ Severus barked before Lockhart had finished saying three.

He put perhaps more force into the spell than was necessary. Brilliant scarlet light flew across the stage, slammed into Lockhart's chest, and flung him bodily across fifteen feet of open space, into the wall behind him. He slid, limp, to the floor with a deafening crash.

Half of the crowd cheered, though the majority of the female population gave a collective horrified gasp. Severus sent a sideways glance to Potter and Ariel, who were both grinning. There was something off about both of them, though… something not right…

“W-well, there you have it,” Lockhart wheezed as he tottered to his feet, face singed with black soot from the explosion and gelled hair standing up on end, “The Disarming Charm! A brilliant idea to show them that, Professor Snape, although if you don't mind my saying, it was pretty obvious what you were about to do, and if I had wanted to stop you, it would have been only too easy…”

“So then, Professor Lockhart, why _didn’t_ you?” Severus drawled back, his voice heavy with irony, “I believe it would have been rather educational for the students to witness how to _block_ defensive spells instead of seeing the undignified aftermath.”

The crowd murmured and snickered. Severus raised an eyebrow at the bumbling idiot, who was wiping a strain of newfound nervous sweat from across his forehead.

“Perhaps,” Lockhart picked up his wand from the ground, and looked at the pathetically empathetic fangirls behind him, “we should begin the student demonstrations.”

Severus gave him a well deserved sneer, disappointed he’d only been allowed to Hex Lockhart once. It hadn’t been worth it, not _nearly_ enough to curb Severus’ overwhelming hatred for the man for a week or two. If anything, the Disarming charm left him wanting for more. He descended into the demon-spawn-children, another plan to somehow get _something_ resembling revenge play out within the next two minutes.

He could already see Lockhart’s eyes sparkling in Ariel and Potter’s direction. The thought of setting the two against one another, in front of the entire school, who believed one of the two to be attacking their fellow peers, made him want to set fire to the stage. Not to mention that Lockhart seemed to make enough of a spectacle of the pair of them, and had already injured the boy.

And _anything_ but Potter and Malfoy. He could only imagine Lucius’ reaction if his darling heir ended up with another broken nose.

“Weasley!” Severus snapped at the freckled face, whose blue eyes widened, “you’re partnered with Malfoy!”

Potter sent him a look – he pretended not to see it – and instead, gave his daughter a glare that clearly told her that she had better fucking stay put and wait for him, or he was going to have to invest in some chains.

Ariel kept her head lowered. She didn’t even seem to notice him this time.

His chest ignited.

“Weasley!” Severus snapped impatiently as the boy stumbled over. He wordlessly pointed in the direction of the steps leading up to the stage.

Malfoy was already waiting on Severus’ side of the stage, Weasley reluctantly skulked over to Lockhart. He seemed to visibly cringe as the moron gave him a pat on the shoulder, sending a smolder to the female audience behind him. Potter had crept closer to the stage, his green eyes concentrating on Malfoy. Severus watched as an arrogant smile crept over his face and an eager light kindled in his grey eyes.

Severus was going to need a bottle of firewhiskey after this.

"Now," Lockhart was saying from the stage, "you'll be casting your spells to disarm – _only_ to disarm!"

He nearly rolled his eyes. Severus could immediately tell that neither of the little dunderheads were going to heed that injunction. For Merlin’s sake, Lockhart hadn’t even shown them how to properly _pronounce_ the fucking charm!

_“One,”_ Lockhart began.

Potter was nearly touching the stage at this point. The girl was several feet back, watching with a worried expression. Severus found himself not being able to look away from it.

_“– three!”_ Lockhart counted.

A series of deafening explosions rattled the windowpanes as clouds of multicolored smoke erupted from various spots across the room. The surrounding students shrieked. Severus couldn’t even… _what_ had they even shot at one another?

Weasley had thrown away his wand completely and was rolling around on the ground with Draco in a headlock. Severus could barely make out a string of swearing that sounded like they were coming from the Gryffindor, a mixture of _Harry_ and _my mate_ and _the stupid bloody Heir, you sodding prick_ in the mix.

"Stop! Stop!" Lockhart was crying above the utter and complete pandemonium, flapping his hands. Like _that_ was going to do any good, like this _stupid_ Dueling club had done _anything –_

Jesus _fucking –_

_"Finite Incantatem!"_ Severus shouted, cancelling out all the spells at once.

Weasley and Malfoy were still thrashing about on the ground, but before Severus could make a move to pry the cretins off one another, Potter and Bellatrix’s son had dashed onto the stage, and were pulling the boys off one another. Weasley seemed to fight the boy at first, but at the sight of who it was, ceased, and wiped away at his bloodied lip with a triumphant gleam in his eye.

Damon Malfoy, however, pushed Lucius’ son back, and tense look in his shoulders that made Severus think _he_ was going to start throwing punches, but then, Draco scooped up his wand from the stage floor and –

_"Serpensortia!"_ Malfoy shouted, pointing his wand straight at Weasley.

A streak of black shot toward Weasley and Potter, who skittered back, Lily’s son’s hand on Weasley’s shoulder. The mass fell to the space just in front of them with an audible _smack._ The head of a cobra shot up automatically as it uncoiled itself and its hood flared out. The crowd screamed once more.

"Allow me!" Lockhart cried, and to Severus's horror, the stupid shit-for-brains _idiot_ shot a bolt of bright yellow light at the fucking thing.

With another bang, Severus whirled around, and saw that Ariel was now standing on the stage. He made a sharp gesture at her to _get off,_ but her eyes, as they had been since she’d arrived, weren’t even in his direction. They were focused on her brother, something intense in her expression –  

And then Potter shoved Weasley aside, something taut in his face like Ariel’s but much more genuine, if that was somehow possible, and opened his mouth –

And hissed at it in a long, unbroken stream of snake-like sounds.

The snake stopped, as if confused.

Severus felt all of the feeling drain from his face.

The speech, the strange, hissing sounds, wrapped around each syllable, caused the cobra to shrink back. Potter was looking down fiercely at it, taking a step closer and closer every few seconds. The snake’s hood was slowly shrinking, and the continuous hissing coming from Potter’s mouth was getting louder and louder –

Ariel was now standing right beside Severus. Her eyes were starlight.

Severus walked forward and put a restraining hand on Potter’s shoulder, who looked up at him, startled.

_"Evanesco."_ Severus said, and the snake dried and fell away, like ash flaking away on the wind.

Potter relaxed, his expression both relieved and pleased. Then he noticed everyone staring at him as if he was now the most unnerving thing in the hall, and he blinked. Whispers rose into the air in angry, frightened mutters. The boy looked back at Weasley, who looked grim, and then his sister, and then Severus himself.

Ariel lurched forward, like her feet were giving out beneath her, and grabbed his arm, “Why didn’t you _tell me?”_

Potter looked bewildered, “What?”

“You…” Her voice sounded strangled, “You’re a…”

“Enough!” Severus found his voice, booming across the hall and making every single one of the children shrink, like a tidal wave of motion.

Potter turned to look at him, green eyes asking him a million questions. Ariel didn’t, and he wanted her to…

Why wouldn’t she –

What was going on with Lily’s children?

"Well…” came Lockhart's voice from the stage. "I… suppose that concludes our first meeting...”

Both of the Malfoy boys seemed to have become stuck to the stage, watching Potter with mouths agog. Weasley clamped a hand over his face and grabbed Potter, streaking past Ariel, who seemed… perplexed.

The crowd parted for the boys as Granger took to their side, like they didn’t want to touch them.

The girl looked at Severus, nothing in her eyes he recognized. She descended from the stage.

Not to his surprise, Ariel was nowhere to be found afterwards, and his suspicion mounted.

There were only two creatures Severus could think of that could Petrify the student, and Potter had unknowingly narrowed his already short list down to a single suspect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Please review!! xx


	44. I am the Great Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I am the Great Sun – Charles Causley
> 
> The choral arrangement of this piece is what inspired this chapter. You can listen to an INCREDIBLE arrangement of it here, if you're interested! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5fEy146fm98
> 
> Another double upload, so read ch. 43 before this one! There are changes from the original upload of this chapter, as there will be for the finale of CoS last time. Enjoy, and please, review! :)

“A Parselmouth.” Dumbledore repeated back in a grave voice.

Severus nodded back in affirmation, just short of falling into the chair in front of the old man’s desk and burying his face in his hands. He had hoped that Dumbledore would provide answers upon Severus telling him what had happened, but he could already sense a troubled presence emanating from the wise, old figure behind the desk.

“You’re certain?” Dumbledore asked, and Severus found himself wanting to smash something at the question.

“Of course I am!” Severus hissed back, “I bloody well know what Parseltongue sounds like!”

All those nights and the shadows of early mornings, listening to the Dark Lord hiss and command things that had damn well near scared the living daylights out of the majority of the Death Eaters present. Severus himself was unnerved by it, but that had been at a time when his Occluding had held refuge, dragging down his fear and numbing him to it.

He waited for Dumbledore to make the connection between this development and the Dark Lord aloud.

“James Potter was not a Parselmouth.” He said instead, “And it isn’t possible for Lily to have been.”

“Perhaps there is a history that spans farther back in the Potter line.” Severus’ words weren’t convincing – hell he didn’t believe them himself – but the only other option was absolutely insane.

“There are no records of any Potters being in Slytherin, let alone Parseltongues.” Dumbledore sighed wearily, stroking his white beard in a calculating manner, “And even then, it is said that only descendants of Slytherin himself could speak the language.”

“Then what are we to make of it, Albus?” Severus snapped.

Dumbledore didn’t answer him, but wrapped one of the rings on his withered hand against his desk in a rhythmic pattern, “Has Ariel ever shown signs of similar abilities?”

He blinked, “Are you asking if my daughter speaks to snakes behind my back?”

“It is only a question, Severus.”

“She’s _not_ a Parselmouth!” Severus snarled, “Don’t you think I’d know something of that magnitude?”

“I find it curious,” Dumbledore’s blue eyes had taken on a thoughtful twinkle instead of the one that usually blinded people, “that only one of them possesses the gift.”

“They have different fathers.” He pointed out.

“But that is all the more troubling.” The Headmaster frowned, “The Prince line spans back generations upon generations of Slytherins. You _yourself_ are a Slytherin, Severus. Would it not make more sense for Ariel to have the ability over Harry?”

Severus did not respond to that, because he didn’t think he could. The only known wizard within the last three centuries had been the Dark Lord himself. For the boy to be a speaker was… disturbing. But if Ariel did…

“Unless of course, Ariel _can_ speak Parseltongue, but has never done so before.” Dumbledore voiced his inner thoughts aloud.

“She doesn’t.” Severus said flatly, “Potter has heard the fucking basilisk. _She_ hasn’t.”

A silvery eyebrow raised itself, “So you’ve come to the same conclusion then?”

“Don’t act like you haven’t known!” Severus snarled at him, feeling a wave of anger roll through the room and direct itself at the old wizard, “You’ve probably been sitting up here, all knowing, while the rest of us sit in ignorance –”

“It would not have made a difference, my boy.” Dumbledore said quietly, looking all the more troubled.

“And what about my _daughter?”_ He slammed a fist down on the desk, “Lucius Malfoy has unleashed a _basilisk…_ whoever the Heir is –”

“I already know who the Heir is, Severus.”

The words fell against his ears like a cold waterfall, a roaring so loud that it almost hurt.

“You… _what?”_ No, he couldn’t have heard him correctly.

“The Heir of Slytherin is Tom Riddle.” Dumbledore opened up his hands to him – an apology, a gesture of submission, “He opened the Chamber many years ago, when he was a student here.”

The room tilted from underneath Severus’ feet. His anger was blinding. All he could see was white, heard it, tasted something metal in his mouth that reminded him of blood. Red sparks shot out from the end of his wand, and before he did something he would come to regret, Severus pointed it at a potted plant on the other side of the room.

It exploded, soiling shooting into the surrounding air like fireworks. The plant caught fire and began to crackle away, bits and pieces flaking to the floor.

“Tom _Riddle.”_ Severus forced through bared teeth.

“He is not _in_ the school.” Dumbledore stood, his eyes darting to the broken foliage, looking a bit disappointed, “I believe him to be controlling one of the students.”

It crashed into him all together at once. Lucius’ threat. The message on the wall. The voice Potter heard. The victims. With that _one_ shred of information, the Dark Lord’s involvement… it spelled Lucius all over it. A way to slide his way in his master’s good graces, if and when he did return. An effort, at best, to continue to work he had set out to do on a much larger scale.

But _children…_

Severus hated the little cretins more than anyone, but to manipulate them into _attacking_ one another…

_She’ll learn her lesson soon enough_

He wasn’t going to fucking touch her so long as Severus had anything to say about it. And then, he was going to rip open Lucius from bowel to sternum and rearrange his anatomy.

And then another, far more unpleasant, thought overcame Severus.

“You think,” He said in a low, dangerous voice, “that the Dark Lord is controlling _Potter.”_

“It would be… _foolish_ of me not to consider it.” Dumbledore admitted.

“While I admit the coincidences can’t be ignored,” Severus hesitated, he couldn’t fucking believe he was standing up for the brat, “I would think I’d know. He’s… rather concerned, really, that the school thinks him responsible.”

“He may be doing it unknowingly –”

“One of the boy’s dearest friends is Muggleborn.” Severus interrupted rudely, “His _mother_ was a Muggleborn. Potter wouldn’t attack those, knowing that Granger could be targeted.”

“You’ll forgive me, but I recall a similar situation involving you, and a Muggleborn witch.” The Headmaster said quietly, no longing meeting his eyes.

It was like an invisible hand had reached inside his chest and torn off the poorly stitched wounds keeping it together for the sake of Ariel.

There was a knock at the door then, and before either of them could answer, Minerva walked in.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Her tone said anything but, “but I’m afraid another student has been found.”

* * *

A green light.

Green. It was everywhere, just a shade brighter than his eyes. Harry could see water reflecting off of the walls, making them shimmer and dance around him as he walked, with no control of his body whatsoever. He was only a passenger here, in this dreaming state.

_“Come.”_ A voice, a mere breath of words and air, said into the dim light.

_“Kill… I need… to tear…”_

It was _The_ _Voice,_ Harry realized, with a jolt of absolute horror. It was the kind of fear that was paralyzing, but that seemed to matter very little here, for he was not in control.

It was going to hurt someone, _again._

_“Kill… I want… kill…”_

Harry was watching it slide on the stone floors, eyes forced open in rapt attention. He couldn’t make out a definite shape, but could _hear_ it, feel the vibrations underneath him and the scratchy sound, like fabric against sandpaper, of the monster’s skin against stone. He could hear the _drip drip_ of water nearby… feel a watery mist brush against his senses…

_“Go,”_ said the original voice, not the creature’s, which felt like it was only inches away, _“fulfill the work in which you were meant to do.”_

Something slid against his side. Harry wanted to cringe, to jump away and scream, but still could do nothing. 

A flash of red from the corner of his eye, and then, laughter, a feeling of immense pleasure…

But it wasn’t… his _own._ Harry could not claim those feelings for himself. They didn’t _feel_ right, like they were some foreign invader riding around in his body –

There was nothing but inky blackness, and then the ground was rising up –

_“Please,”_ He heard someone shudder, “stop it. _Please.”_

_“You didn’t tell me that the boy could speak Parseltongue!”_ Another snarled with disgust.

“I d-didn’t _know…”_

His eyes – _were_ they his eyes? – opened. There were bathroom stalls, sinks, hands pressed against the cold tile… 

The girl’s bathroom? What was he –

_“How could you not have known?”_ The angry voice seethed, _“Stand up, you stupid girl!”_

It felt like he had someone kicked her, for there was an overwhelming sense of pain, and then, Harry felt himself rise, his eyes meeting the mirror above him –

What should have been his reflection was Ariel’s face.

Harry awoke with a gasp, chest heaving and drenched in sweat. There was a familiar, odd ache in his forehead. His skin was clammy, and his nightshirt slung to his skin.

His scar was burning… something was very wrong.

He reached a trembling hand up to it, feeling the outlines of the lightning bolt. It hadn’t bothered him since Quirrell had kidnapped him.

Definitely wrong. That dream…

Harry threw the covers off, burying his face in his hands and tried to stifle his rapid breathing. He was borderline hyperventilating, and the last thing he needed was for Malfoy to hear in the bed next to him and tell all of Slytherin _Potty_ was having _nightmares._

It had been _her_ in the dream. He had been _her._ Something had been wrong… someone… that voice, high and terrible and cold, was hurting her…

Harry had felt horrible after he’d left Snape’s office, like he’d left his sister dangling off the edge of a cliff. It felt so _wrong,_ with the school thinking _Harry_ was the Heir, when he himself though maybe… Ariel was…

There was also the fact that he wasn’t suicidal. If Ariel was threatening to tell Snape he was the one going through his quarters (and of course, Harry had figured that Snape would already _have_ suspicions) then he’d probably be expelled, or some other terrible fate. It wasn’t like Ariel to threaten… wasn’t like her at all… she’d been so unresponsive when he’d found her. Missing for days beforehand, holing herself up in Snape’s quarters.

He just couldn’t shake that glazed-over expression out of his mind. Ariel had looked like a completely different person.

_“We uh… we’re connected through our scars.”_ Ariel had told him when they first met, _“So I’ve been seeing you… through it and uh… I dream about you when I go to sleep. Except they’re… they’re not dreams – they’re visions. I wasn’t sure in the beginning, but they got stronger and there was no doubt about it after a while. I told Dad a couple of days ago, and when I mentioned how miserable you were…”_

Harry climbed from the warmth and safety of his bed, grabbed his father’s Invisibility Cloak from his trunk, and slipped from the Slytherin dormitory. His feet were bare – he hadn’t even thought to put on socks or slippers in his current disoriented state. Harry’s steps were the only sound he could hear as he padded up to the first floor, something guiding him that he couldn’t name. He felt as though he were still dreaming.

He had to just make sure. Put his ridiculous thoughts to bed that somehow… that The Voice was harming Ariel. Then he could go back to bed.

The halls seemed to be darker than usual. Harry hadn’t a clue as to what time it was, but it didn’t matter. Something had happened… in the girl’s bathroom… maybe. He felt weird thinking that, but shrugged it off, and made his way to where the pull led him.

The door was closed, and with an audible creak that made Harry stop and look around to make sure he hadn’t alerted Peeves or Filch, he stepped inside.

There was an outline of a figure hunched over the sink. Harry’s heart squeezed itself into a knot. He immediately recognized the wavy red hair, the robes… 

The notebook – diary – lay sprawled across the floor, like it had been thrown.

“Ariel?” Harry reached a hand towards her.

She turned so suddenly that Harry actually fell down, his hands hitting the bathroom floor to break the fall. She was panting heavily, her teeth bared at him. For a split second, it looked like her face was melting, but then, Harry realized that she was only crying.

Her eyes were as red, redder even, than her hair. They were slits, and burned a hole straight through him.

“You’re not Ariel.” Harry whispered, not feeling the impact of those words as they flew from his mouth.

She cocked her head and smiled at him, and it looked like she was going to crack in two.

* * *

_“How curious,”_ Tom sounded oddly defeated, reserved, _“I had thought I would have to tackle your father before the boy. I wonder how he came to find us here at this time of night.”_

Ariel could hear her heartbeat in her ears, see spots of black in her vision. Tom was already trying to force her down, but she pushed thrust all her energy into keeping him from doing so. Tom didn’t seem to notice much, because he was much more focused on seeing Harry face to face with this new revelation hanging in the space between them.

_“Expelliarmus!”_ Ariel heard herself shout as Harry raised his wand in defense, the holly wooden wand flying several feet behind him. She saw desperation flash in his green eyes, a mixture of fear and uncertainty.

_Run oh gods Harry run just run run run_

“Who are you?” Her brother asked her – _Tom_ – slowly.

Ariel fought the reply that slid up her throat with all her might. She felt her body fold into itself, crumble to the floor. Up until now, she had feared his wrath and the burning torture resisting brought with it, but _now,_ her brother’s life was quite literally in her hands.

This wasn’t Quirrell, or Voldemort, even. This was _her. Her_ fault.

Her will crashed into Tom’s, and it _hurt –_

Her scar was on fire, Ariel thought to herself in the midst of it. She anchored herself to the thought. 

_“Why do you fight now?”_ Tom snarled, _“You were just fine with watching the Mudbloods meet a means to an end!”_

“I won’t… let you… hurt him…” She panted. Her eyes squeezed shut as a wave of nausea rolled over her, pain in her chest and throat. He was using everything he could, but so was she, because the thought of Harry getting hurt was far worse than whatever Tom did to her.

_“He was going to die either way, Ariel Potter.”_ Tom told her in a deceivingly soft voice.

“Run, Harry!” Ariel managed to croak out, “Just… _run!”_

Her brother ignored her order and stood up. 

“It’s you, isn’t it?” Harry’s voice shook, but he held himself strongly, “Whoever it is, you’re controlling her. _You’re_ the Heir. You’re controlling her through that… that book…”

_“Stop resisting, and I will kill you quickly.”_ Tom hissed.

“NO!” She shouted at him, her hands twisting in her hair, “I won’t let you!”

“Ariel…” Harry was coming closer, but she held out a hand to stop him. His presence seemed to burn the air around her, making it harder to breath, and if she couldn’t focus, Tom would win…

_“You will take him down to the chamber.”_ Something invisible slammed into her chest, and Ariel wheezed, _“He knows… has seen…”_

“NO!” no no n o – 

A wall rose within her, slowly. Tom seemed to sense it, Ariel could feel him let up a bit. A thrill of something hopeful flew her her, but Tom shrieked –

_Tell him_

“Harry… please, just _go!”_ Ariel begged as Tom ripped, white hot pain flinging itself through her chest cavity. He could feel her prying at her mind, he was still _there,_ but Ariel felt his control slipping. There was a pressure building in her head.

She took Tom’s momentary interposal and chucked Harry’s wand back at him. It hit him in the shoulder, sending him stumbling back as he fumbled for it. Ariel felt relief bubble up inside her just as Tom surged.

_“You stupid child!”_ Tom snarled. _“You’ll pay for that –”_

“GO!” Ariel shouted. “RUN!”

Something sharp ripped through her jaw, and she fell back down to the floor. Ariel looked back at Harry, unable to speak as Tom’s heat traveled, trapping her voice as she was forced back down into her box. Only this time, there was no darkness waiting for her… no ties to bind.

He was going to make her watch.

* * *

Harry felt something fall over him that he had never experienced before. It was so strong that it made him tremble, but it wasn’t fear. No – it was something primitive and resilient that kneaded against his bones.

“Let her go.” He said in a quiet voice. “It’s over.”

Ariel’s face finally glazed over, like it had in Snape’s quarters, and slowly, she rose from the ground. Harry could automatically tell that his sister was gone, and that whoever had been controlling her – The Voice – had taken her place.

“Who are you?” Harry whispered. He gripped his wand tightly in his hand, his eyes flickering to Ariel’s own, which lay beside her.

Not-Ariel smiled that half-crazed expression with teeth.

“We’ve met before, Harry Potter.” She said, her voice deceptively soft, like cream laced with poison.

“I don’t think we have.” Harry said, holding his ground – he wouldn’t let The Voice unnerve him. “I wouldn’t forget someone like _you.”_

“And you haven’t.” Not-Ariel jeered. “Neither has your sister, but I think I’ll wait on the reveal. How did you find us tonight, boy?”

Harry had no sodding clue what Not-Ariel was going on about, but decided to ignore it for now instead of pursuing it further. It didn’t matter now – not with Ariel unable to do anything, and The Voice seemingly in control. Harry’s mind began to race, trying to formulate a plan. He couldn’t leave… even if he had the diary. By the time he got it to Dumbledore or Snape, The Voice would’ve killed his sister, or worse, taken her somewhere they couldn’t find her and continue to use her. Harry couldn’t risk that. He needed a way to get Ariel free… but how?

“I followed you.” Harry lied. “I’ve thought she was the Heir since the last time I saw her.”

Not-Ariel quirked a disbelieving eyebrow. “You suspected your own sister? Tut tut, family ties _are_ transient.”

“She been different.” Harry said coldly. “I didn’t _want_ to believe it. That’s why you’ve gotten away with it for so long. Snape and I never thought _Ariel_ was capable of hurting people the way _you_ have.”

“And apparently, not as pathetically _weak.”_ Not-Ariel laughed – it was a cold, high sound, like chains rattling against metal bars. “If you could hear her now –”

Harry’s stomach lurched. “She’s… she can still hear me?”

“She’s begging – like some pathetic creature.” Not-Ariel sneered. _“I am the captive but you do not free me – I am the captain but you do not obey._ Have you heard that Slytherin proverb before, Harry? Your sister has one around her neck.” She grabbed a handful of the necklace Ariel had been wearing since the start of term and ripped it from her, throwing it against one of the stall doors.

“My sister has more courage in her pinky than you do in that entire _book!”_ Harry shouted, balling his hands at his sides. “She came after me last year – ran straight to the man who murdered our mum and dad? What do you call _that?”_

“Foolishness.” Not-Ariel’s face darkened. “Bravery is a mere _mite_ compared to true power – the power that lies in the Chamber, that lies within myself, and the pages of my _book.”_

“Then why do you have to possess Ariel?” Harry snarled. “If you’re as great as you say you are, and Ariel is so _weak,_ then let her go!”

“Sacrifice.” Not-Ariel hissed, dragging out the word, like it was the most important thing in the world. “She’ll be useful in restoring me to what I once was. For now, I must take care of you, and then, her sorrow will be all I need.”

Harry could see the shift in Not-Ariel’s demeanor as he raised his wand in front of him defensively. Not-Ariel unsheathed Ariel’s, tucked inside her sleeve. In the back of Harry’s mind – where he wasn’t frightened beyond reason – he noted that Snape kept his wand in the same place.

Where _was_ Snape – or _Filch,_ for that matter? Shouldn’t _someone_ have heard them by now…

_Not unless they’re all preoccupied with the newest victim,_ said his Inner Slytherin.

“You will come with me into the Chamber.” Not-Ariel snarled, and as she spoke, she held Ariel’s wand against her jugular. “Or I will finish Ariel here and now.”

“Oh, yeah?” Harry challenged. “Then what happens to _you?_ You’ll go back to your little _book,_ and once Dumbledore gets a hold on it, you’re _finished.”_

She gave him a terrible smile. “There’s more where that came from. Nothing will ever stop me, Harry Potter.”

His eyes flickered to the Diary, just within his reach, as his Inner Slytherin whispered into his ear.

“I don’t think so.” Harry said softly. “What if I _did_ leave? What if I left Ariel here with you, and instead, brought this _diary_ to Headmaster Dumbledore?”

The rigid wand went slack, and Not-Ariel’s face paled. “You would never.”

“I would.” Harry said, letting a smile spread across his face – it hurt. “The entire school thinks it’s me… imagine their surprise when they find out it was my _sister.”_ He mustered together enough resentment to let it leak into his face. “Serves her right, anyway.”

Not-Ariel looked puzzled – it didn’t suite her. It looked like she was being pulled in two different directions. “You prize your worth in their words over your own conscious?”

“There’s nothing _conscious_ about it.” said Harry coldly.

“Just moments ago you were defending your sister!” Not-Ariel stormed forward, looking enraged. “And now you plan to give her over without a second thought!”

“It’s nothing less than what she deserves.” Harry said, his stomach turning nauseatingly with every word. “I defend her because she saved my life once. If I turn you over to the Headmaster, I’ll be saving the lives of everyone in this school. Ariel _allowed_ this to happen, and _that_ is the difference between courage and foolishness. You need to be stopped by whatever means necessary.” 

Satisfaction spread over her face. “This is… most interesting, Harry Potter.”

“Can she still hear me?” Harry asked, coiled to spring.

Not-Ariel nodded, her eyes blazing with curiosity.

Harry looked straight into her eyes and saw her moving behind them, like a body behind a curtain.

“Fight him.” He said, and pointed his wand straight at the diary.

* * *

She didn’t have time to wonder why _now._

Harry casted an _Incendio_ at the diary, and Ariel could feel her feet running towards Harry. Tom’s anger sparked even before the flames hit the pages, but there wasn’t any desperation in it, like he was afraid of what would happen to the diary. Ariel didn’t think for a second that a little fire spell would do anything, but it was _something,_ and Tom’s attention was temporarily focused on her hands reaching for a wand and performing a deadly cursed, but not Ariel herself.

Ariel threw the remnants of strength she had left at Tom, felt it slam into his –

_Harry Harry Harry_

She shrieked, but Tom roared…

Her body hit the floor, and underneath the pressure and Tom pouring all of himself back into her, there was a flash of pain. Ariel didn’t let it distract her, however – she steadied herself, and did what her father would do.

She raised her Shields.

_Harry Harry Harry_

_“What is this?”_ Tom demanded, his attack slowing.

_Harry Harry Harry_

Ariel didn’t know the first thing about Occlumency, but what she _did_ know was that she had Walls, and if they came down, Harry would die, and so would she. Tom was overwhelmed, and so was Ariel, but she could stop him – she _had to._

_“You end now.”_ Tom hummed.

He slammed into her Shields. Ariel didn’t know how to stop him, didn’t know what to do when he broke through.

_Harry Harry Harry_

They cracked right down the middle – it looked effortless. Ariel forced her head off the ground, looking for Harry, his green eyes catching and holding hers.

There was a flash – the quickest glimmer –

Mum

“Get out,” Ariel threw Tom from her with everything she had left. “OF MY _HEAD!”_

There was a blinding white light, and then, it was so quiet that Ariel stopped breathing to listen for his rebuttal.

But it… it…

It didn’t come.

Ariel felt her body shaking, her forehead pressed against the cold tile. Her chest hurt, and as the ringing in her ears stopped, she realized that she was sobbing.

“Ariel…” she heard Harry’s voice, saw his hands reaching for hers.

She looked up, tears streaming down her face. She blinked, in awe of how she could to that – how she could _do_ what _she_ wanted. She’d taken free will for granted.

“Ariel?” Harry asked again,

“Harry…” Ariel’s voice was thick, “Harry, I’m so sorry…”

“Is he…” Harry swallowed, “gone?”

She nodded, her sobs so deep they sounded like frogs croaking.

“It’s been him?”

“He’s…” Ariel breathed in between gasps, “he’s finally _gone.”_

“I should have known.” Harry whispered – his voice wobbled.

His hand found hers. She held on tightly, like her life depended on it, because a few seconds ago, it had.

* * *

Another student Petrified, another string of intestines Severus was going to use to hang Lucius by his fucking neck.

“Pity,” Lockhart was saying as Poppy levitated Justin Finch-Fletchy onto a stretcher, “if I had been here, I could have saved him from the beast, whatever it is.”

Severus felt the hand holding his wand twitch in the moron’s direction. He was going to Hex him through the fucking wall if he kept talking, like _this_ was the time to be bragging. He wished the basilisk had gone after _him_ instead, done everyone a goddamn favor.

“This can’t go on, Albus.” Minerva murmured to Dumbledore, who looked graver than the entire lot of professors in the corridor, “How can we keep the students safe when –”

“I know, Minerva.” Dumbledore sighed, a pained sound that didn’t suit him.

“We’ll have to close the school if this continues.”

Dumbledore didn’t respond to that, and Severus knew why. He could see the agony of that option in his eyes. The Headmaster loved Hogwarts probably more than all of the students, alumni, and staff combined. It was his sanctuary, his greatest stronghold.

“Check on your Houses.” Dumbledore waved to Minerva and Severus as Poppy levitated the body away, “Make sure everyone is where they should be. I want curfew strictly enforced from here on out.”

Severus nearly rolled his eyes – he’d _always_ enforced curfews, but he knew for a fact that the majority of the Gryffindors had a blatant disregard for it, like it was just a _suggestion._

He nodded curtly at the Headmaster, his eyes letting him know their earlier conversation wasn’t over. The Dark Lord lurking about the school, having children make basilisks attack _other children,_ wasn’t something he was going to have Ariel and Potter stick around for.

The _threat…_

Severus made a mental note to have Minerva check on Ariel specifically up in the Tower, where he knew she was hiding from him as he stalked down the corridor leading to the Great Hall. He’d get her tomorrow – she had to emerge at some point, and when she did, he’d drag her down to his quarters whether it took a bloody _net_ or a full Body Bind.

He was contemplating both options when two small figures crashed right into him, just then, and suddenly, his eyes were looking straight up at him.

Of all of the _FUCKING NIGHTS –_

“What the _hell_ are you doing out of bed?” Severus thundered, grabbing the nape of Ariel’s neck, his other hand holding Potter’s shoulder in place, “You both had _better –”_

And then the girl let out a heart wrenching cry, and flung her arms around his waist. Severus immediately let go of the both of them, his arms hanging dumbly at his sides. He stared down at the mound of red hair attached to him, matted against her forehead with sweat. Ariel was shaking so badly that if he didn’t know better, he would have thought she’d been under the Cruciatus.

Severus put a hand on top of her head in an attempt to calm her, do _something_ to stop this bewildering reaction to being caught out of bed after curfew. _Especially_ after her bizarre coldness these past few weeks.

“Ariel,” He said in a very, _very_ controlled voice, “what are you doing here? With your _brother?”_

“I d-don’t know!” She shook her head at him, like he’d asked her to solve some kind of logarithm, “I… I…”

“I found her in the girl’s bathroom.” Potter told him in a strange voice, as though he was uncertain of his words, “The one on the first floor.”

“What in Merlin’s name were you doing there at this time of night?” Severus grabbed her arms, trying to retch her from him, wanting to _throttle her because she had run off how could he keep her fucking safe when she was so foolish,_ “Ariel –”

“It’s me!” Ariel sobbed, looking up to him, his robes tangled in her fists, “It’s me…”

Severus looked to Potter for an explanation, but the boy was as white as a sheet. The expression made his stomach drop to his feet

“Ariel,” He reluctantly wrapped his arms around her, wishing she stop crying, he couldn’t _stand_ tears, “what are you talking about?”

“It’s me… it’s been _me…”_ There was an addition string of words, but they came out as nothing but muffled sobs.

“Potter, what the hell is she talking about?” Severus demanded, looking back to the boy.

He swallowed, “The… the Chamber…”

“Did you see the monster?” He asked, the words sending a thrill of fear down his spine. They couldn’t have… they’d be Petrified. No, that couldn’t be it. His eyes narrowed at Potter, “Did you hear it again?”

The boy shook his head, biting his lip so hard Severus was sure it would split open.

“Tom Riddle.” came the whisper from the girl in his arms.

The name, the one only Dumbledore used when he referred to the Dark Lord, tore at his heart like claws. They sunk in, and once it registered, _fully registered,_ to Severus, his confusion melted away, like paint, leaving behind nothing but an overwhelming need to know where Ariel had learned that name, why she was using it _now._

_“What?”_ His skin turned grey, like her words had somehow caused something inside of him to die.

“H-he’s been using me.” Ariel finally looked at him, and the look in her eyes made him want to shriek at her, “It’s been _me…_ he’s been making me do it!”

“Making you do _what?”_

“I did it.” She held his gaze, something so vast and large in her eyes Severus was quite sure it would swallow him whole.

The way Potter had looked at him the other night… like he’d been holding something back…

It… wasn’t… _possible…_

“Ariel...” The name on his tongue suddenly burned, “Ariel…”

“I opened the Chamber of Secrets.” said Ariel.

The bloodlust surged up in him, and the sun shone ten times brighter and seemed to hurt his skin as burning oil did. Severus could hear her heart, a rushing turbulence loud as a forest fire, and his own seemed to stop in his chest. His gums were itchy and dry, and he fought the urge to blow the very foundation of the castle itself into oblivion.

Ariel and Potter both visibly cringed as the air around them began to sizzle with magic.

“He wouldn’t let me tell you!” Something in her eyes was wild now, desperate, “I tried so hard… he was going to _hurt you…”_

_“I won’t let him!”_ She’d thrown at him last year.

“Where is he now, then?” No, it couldn’t be true, he _couldn’t be here he couldn’t –_

“H-he was going to hurt Harry.” Ariel rasped, with a great shudder that seemed to rock her very being, “I f-forced him out. Harry helped… he saved me.”

Severus’ mind whirled. None of this made sense… she couldn’t have… not her… not Lily’s daughter…

“He was in my head.” She said, a hand reaching out to tangle itself in her red hair.

His blood turned to ice water.

“Come with me.” Severus took her hand in his, though not as a gesture of comfort. Severus felt robotic, detached from his body. He jerked his head at Potter, who hurried to Ariel’s side, something in his face that Severus couldn’t give her right now. He didn’t know if he ever could after this.

Ariel seemed to shrink into his side. Severus wasn’t thinking clearly,

_wasn’t thinking at all there was this great black hole coming up from within him_

but some part of him wanted bring her closer, because as long as she was at his side, no one could touch her. Nothing about this made _sense…_ how could the Dark Lord have…

_Impossible impossible impossible not her not his child he couldn’t have failed this way_

“Dad…” Ariel was hidden beneath his cloak, looking up at him, he could feel her eyes but didn’t dare look down, “Daddy, I’m –”

“Stop talking.”

It was Potter’s green eyes that looked up at him, startled at Severus’ shortness, but he could care less. He was apart from his body, somewhere cold and dark.

Luckily, Dumbledore was still in the corridor where Minerva had alerted them to where they’d found the Fletchy boy. He seemed to be examining the wall, running his hand over the lines of the stone, appearing deep in thought.

“Headmaster.” Severus’ jaw felt heavy as he brought Dumbledore’s attention to the children huddling together beside him.

He turned, his expression immediately softening at the sight of the children, and then, turning troubled at their faces, “Severus, what is –”

“Your office.” Severus said, _“Now.”_

Dumbledore inclined his head, blue eyes lingering on the children, who Severus refused to look at for fear he’d lose the last remnants of his control, and led them up to the tower without another word. Once they’d arrived, Dumbledore seated himself. All of their eyes seemed to be on him, and Severus hated it, but he forced himself to ignore it.

Severus pointed wordlessly to the chairs in front of the Headmaster’s desk and Lily’s children sat obediently. Fawkes seemed to sense the tense atmosphere, so thick one could have ripped through it with a knife, and flew over the Potter, chirping empathetically. The boy regarded it with thankful eyes, reaching up to pet his head. The phoenix nuzzled him in response.

Severus knelt down in front of Ariel, who was twisting her hands in her lap. He placed a hand over them and she stopped, her eyes wide and filled to the brim with such regret that it nearly shattered him right then and there.

“I need you to tell Professor Dumbledore what you’ve told me.” Severus said in a low, toneless voice, “I need you to explain yourself. Do not leave anything out.”

Ariel swallowed loudly, “Dad, I’m –”

“Not a single detail.” He grabbed her chin and held her gaze.

Her face crumpled, but she nodded. Severus stood and retreated to the bookcases that lined the wall, to the shadows, where he knew he could listen and try to pull himself back. Dumbledore assessed him from his spot, every line in his withered face pronounced. He turned to the girl in the chair, and then the boy, whose eyes were going to cause Severus to gouge out his own any moment, and then back to Ariel.

He knew. Severus saw it dawn over him all at once, watch it reach his eyes and then rest of his body. Pity so strong that it made Severus’ lungs burn, made what he could feel of his heart lurch, fall across the old man’s face.

“I’m so sorry.” Ariel face fell into her hands, her breathing uneven. Severus could tell she was fighting not to cry again.

He couldn’t go to her. He couldn’t… _make_ himself, physically. Mentally. His emotional status was non-existent right now.

“Where is he now, Ariel?” Dumbledore asked gently.

She looked up, “You… you _know?”_

“Of Riddle, yes.” He gave a single nod, “He opened the Chamber when he was a student here, many, many years ago, when he was only a boy.”

“How?” Ariel whispered, “Who was he?”

Dumbledore opened his mouth, but Severus beat him to it. She couldn’t handle knowing the truth right now. Merlin knew he hadn’t even finished processing it from earlier, and the girl looked like she was about to break any second.

“Answer his question, Ariel.” Severus said.

All eyes went to him, hidden in the blackness, the wonderful cover it harbored, and then, returned to the conversation at hand.

All eyes, except Potter’s. They were studied him with some kind of scrutiny Severus couldn’t identify.

“He’s… _gone.”_ Ariel took a great, shuddering breath, “I… he’s been in my head…”

Dumbledore’s eyes hardened, “He’s there now?”

“No!” She shook her head wildly, “I… forced him out just before… Harry distracted him.”

“You’re certain?”

Ariel nodded, “Yes… I can’t feel him. I haven’t heard him… he wouldn’t let me talk to you.”

“Just to be sure…” Dumbledore muttered, suddenly warily. He looked back to Severus, “I need you to confirm that it is Ariel we are sitting with.”

He blinked, the words so odd, so _wrong,_ but then, he stalked forward, lifting his daughter’s chin with his index finger. Ariel peeked up at him under dark lashes, like she was ashamed, but Severus felt nothing.

“Don’t resist.” His lips were numb.

“Okay.” Ariel said in a small voice.

Severus took a deep breath, and looked into the eyes that had turned into tunnels, _“Legilimens!”_

He wasn’t met with any mental barriers, which was a well enough sign. He pushed forward, feeling no resistance whatsoever. Ariel knew how to Occlude, but she didn’t have the capability to hide the Dark Lord away, even if she wanted to. There were no signs of dark magic… Severus reached, prying with a bit more force than necessary.

Severus heard a familiar cold, high voice come from her most recent memories and recoiled, ones he didn’t dare touch, and released the spell. 

Ariel was panting, a flicker of something akin to betrayal shining in her face. He allowed his thumb to brush against her cheek, and gave a quick jerk of his head to Dumbledore.

“How did you force him out?” The Headmaster continued, wasting no time.

“I don’t know.” Ariel said, sincerity so innocent that it cut Severus to the bone, “Harry found me…” Her head snapped up then and her voice wobbled, “Did… did someone else…?”

“There was another victim, yes.” Dumbledore nodded gravely.

Her face disappeared for the umpteenth time. This time, however, Potter picked his chair clean off the floor and put it right next to hers, so that they were both touching, and grabbed her hand.

Ariel wiped frantically at her face and looked to the boy – Severus couldn’t see her expression – and then back to Dumbledore.

“He was mad because I didn’t tell him Harry was a Parselmouth.” She said in a small voice, “That’s why he did it, or at least, that’s what he told me.”

“How did he come to be, Ariel?” He finally asked the fucking question Severus had been screaming on the inside.

“It was the diary.” She responded immediately, bitterness layering the guilt, “He was… _in_ the diary… he probably lied to me about how he got there. I wrote to him all the time.”

Severus felt his Shields go up in flames.

“A diary?” Dumbledore’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

_When I first walked in she was writing in that stupid diary she keeps around_

“Yes… it was his, apparently.”

_I kept shaking her and calling her name, but she wouldn’t move_

“How did you come by it?” 

“It… it was in my satchel when I got back from Diagon Alley with Dad. I wrote my name in it, and he started talking to me. I wrote to him every night after that –”

The dam burst wide open. Everything, _everything_ inside of him ignited with raw fury.

“You did _what?”_ Severus boomed, swooping forward and rounding on the girl in the chair.

Three pairs of eyes shot to him, though he only saw the one that widened in fear. Severus bent down so that he was only inches away from Ariel’s face, she cringed, shrank away from him.

He grabbed her chin in a vise like grip. Ariel whimpered, gripping the sides of the chair tightly.

“You… _wrote_ to him? You _willingly_ initiated this?” Severus was practically vibrating with rage. She couldn’t have been _this foolish…_ this _thoughtless…_ not her…

“H-he said he was lonely.” It wasn’t even a whisper.

“And you _listened?”_ His grip tightened.

“He’s the one who taught me the spells!” Ariel tried desperately, “I… I just wanted someone to talk to, and that’s what he said he wanted too.”

“You _KEPT IT_ from me!” Red was seeping into his vision, “You must have known I wouldn’t approve if you _didn’t tell me!”_

“I tried to tell you.” Her speech was a series of broken stutters, “But by then he wouldn’t let me…”

“Because you _allowed him_ to have that control!” Severus roared, “Do you have _ANY_ idea what you’ve done?”

“Severus.” Dumbledore placed a rebuking hand on his shoulder, pulling him away from the girl. Ariel was cowering into the back on the chair. Severus didn’t even see the expression on her face. He couldn’t think straight… he couldn’t have been so _blind…_ it had all been unfolding _right under his watch._

“How could you?” Severus whispered.

Her eyes finally filled with fresh tears, “I… I thought he was harmless… I didn’t _know…”_

“Any magical object with a mind of it’s own is _dark magic.”_ He sneered, “Have I taught you _nothing?”_

“That’s enough, Severus.” Dumbledore said in a hard voice, “It’s hardly her fault. Lucius must have slipped it to her somehow.”

“Lucius?” Potter finally spoke, the first words since they’d entered the Headmaster’s office, “You’re talking about the threat he made?”

Dumbledore inhaled sharply.

“How… the _hell…”_ Severus began, but Potter answered.

“She overheard.” The boy looked to her, asking her to explain with his mother’s eyes.

Ariel wasn’t looking at them anymore. Her gaze was lowered to the ground, her knees tucked securely under her chin.

_“Ariel!”_ Severus snapped at her. His anger was the only thing allowing him to function right now, everything else long buried. He couldn't touch it right now. He couldn’t… Merlin, he just couldn’t…

“Leave her _alone!”_ Potter jumped up, fists balled at his sides, “Can’t you see she feels horrible enough already?”

“We must go and retrieve the diary.” Dumbledore said grimly as Severus sputtered, the little _Potter spawn,_ like his sister _hadn’t –_ they hadn’t even gotten the full sodding fucking _story –_

“We’re not done here!” Severus bellowed at them, “She still needs to –”

“Right now, all that is important is securing Riddle’s diary.” Dumbledore’s blue eyes glittered, his voice chiseled from diamond.

“It was in the bathroom.” Potter said, “I saw it on the floor.”

“Stay with them.” The old man said, heading from the door, “Don’t let them out of sights. It’s a possibility Tom has taken on a corporeal form.”

Something sharp pierced Severus’ throat at his words, but he shoved in where all of his other crippling emotions were, the ones that had nearly overcome him when Quirrell had attacked him, _had_ claimed him when Lily had died… when Ariel had learned the truth… 

“He took my necklace, too.” The girl said, voice hollow and void of all her newfound sorrows. They all turned to look at her.

Severus’ chest roiled.

Her eyes closed, and her face went slack.

Mother _fucking –_

“She’s exhausted.” Dumbledore said quietly from behind Severus as he swooped down to inspect her, “Possession takes its toll… and if this has been going on for months, Tom has been draining her life force for some time. She needs to be taken to Pomfrey.”

“Why didn’t you suggest that in the first place?” Severus snarled, reaching down to pick her up. She was ice cold.

“The threat needed to be eliminated, Severus.” Dumbledore watched as he picked her from the chair, cradling her in his arms, her head rest on his shoulder. Up close, Ariel looked just fine… better than she had at the start of the year…

The Dark Lord was smart. He’d know how to disguise it.

Severus and the boy looked at each other.

“I’m not leaving her.” Potter told him, very matter-of-factly.

“Good,” Severus glared down at him, clutching the girl tightly as he stepped forward, “because if you leave my sight, I’m going to break your glasses so that you have no choice but to stay near.” 


	45. Tainted Obligation

Snape was acting _weird,_ or at least weirder than usual. As Harry followed him down to the hospital wing, Ariel in his arms, he wondered if Snape was afraid of this Tom Riddle jumping out of the shadows as much as Harry was.

“Where the sodding fuck is Poppy?” Snape snarled at Professor Sprout, who was hovering over a cot next to Colin’s, a new victim sprawled across the sheets. Her being here must mean a Hufflepuff had been Petrified this time.

Harry’s eyes widened at his choice of words – he’d never heard Snape curse so openly before.

“Severus Snape!” Madam Pomfrey’s voice began to chastise him from somewhere behind them, but was cut off with a sharp gasp. Harry turned to look at her, a look of pure shock on her face.

“My stars,” She clutched a hand over her heart, “she… she hasn’t been –”

“No, she’s not fucking Petrified!” Snape snapped, sending Madam Pomfrey an ordering glare, “She needs medical attention. _Now.”_

The medi-witch looked perturbed by Snape’s language as much as Harry was, but ushered Snape forward and gestured to an empty bed nearby. He laid her down gently, despite the fact that Snape seemed as though he didn’t even want to be holding her in the first place.

For the first time in several days, Ariel finally looked… _peaceful._ Granted, she was only sleeping, but before today, Harry hadn’t thought a face could hold so much misery in it all at once.

Snape straightened up as Madam Pomfrey began to run her wand vertically along Ariel’s forehead. His arms were crossed tightly across his chest, hair hanging about his face so that Harry couldn’t even see his hooked nose anymore. He looked like one giant black mass.

Harry, who Snape seemed to have completely forgotten about, stepped closer to the bed. He reached a hand for Ariel’s arm, wanting to feel for a pulse, make sure she was still _here,_ when Snape’s eyes finally fell to the top of his head.

_“You,”_ Snape said in a voice that scorched Harry’s eardrums like molten iron, “will _sit down, stay quiet,_ and _not move_ unless I say so.”

Harry wanted to glare at him, demand what the hell his problem was, (he hadn’t seen her scream and fight while Harry had stood there helpless) but resigned himself to the fact that Snape was probably moments away from spontaneously combusting, and plopped himself into a seat at the end of Ariel’s bed.

“She has a Masking Charm applied to herself.” Madam Pomfrey gave Snape a terrible look, “Why is she trying to disguise her appearance? This wasn’t in place when I saw her several weeks ago.”

“Can you remove it?” Snape asked. He sounded like he was chewing on a mouth full of nails.

She nodded, “Of course I can, but Severus –”

“Then do it.”

Madam Pomfrey’s face darkened, a look of pure and unabashed fury creeping into her usually kind face, “Severus Snape, you had _better –”_

“He didn’t do anything to her, if that’s what you’re asking.” Harry interrupted, his patience running thin. Why was everyone acting so strange? Couldn’t they just make sure Ariel was alright and _then_ argue?

Snape gave him a strange look – it was still a glare, even though it seemed Harry had taken him off guard – and turned his attention back to Madam Pomfrey.

“Is there anything else?” He asked her.

“The Charm is blocking certain aspects of the Diagnostic.” Madam Pomfrey told him, her mouth set in a tight line, “I’ll be able to get a better reading once it’s been removed.”

Snape nodded, and the medi-witch raised her wand above Ariel’s chest, _“Reversus.”_

There was an orb of blue light at the end of her wand. It lit up against Ariel’s face, and then, as it faded, something began to change in his sister’s face. The first thing Harry noticed was her skin, a smooth ivory, turn a sickly pale, sallow, like bad milk. The shine in her hair faded, leaving it dull and unhealthy; black rings deepened under her eyes; her cheekbones sharpened.

Snape cursed again, more loudly than before, and ripped back the curtain. He disappeared.

There were a series of deafening crashes.

Harry and Madam Pomfrey shared a knowing look. He wondered if offering Snape a Calming Draught would be helpful or make things worse.

“Severus,” Madam Pomfrey called as she raised her wand to Ariel’s temple a second time, “if you’re quite done destroying school property, the Diagnostic is –”

She froze mid-sentence, her eyes widening.

Snape came billowing back into the curtain-made cubicle, “What? What is it?”

“What has she been _doing,_ Severus?” Madam Pomfrey shook her wand at him, her voice rising with every word, “What in Godric’s good name has this child… is it that damn connection that had her down her first year? You _told me_ you had that _handled!”_

“Is she alright?” Harry sprang from his chair, heart leaping up into his throat, “She _has_ to be… she stopped him!”

“Sit _down,_ Mr Potter!” Snape snapped at him, turning back to Madam Pomfrey, “What the devil are you talking about?”

“This child…” Madam Pomfrey shook her head in disgust, “If she’d performed just _one_ spell out of her limits… Severus, she’s –”

“Poppy,” He said in a low, dangerous voice, “what does the fucking Diagnostic say? You referenced her scar – is it her magic?”

“It… is not only her magical core.” She said in an unstable voice, “Her life force is depleted… alarmingly so.”

Snape seemed to have stopped breathing. His eyes weren’t moving, or blinking, for that matter. He’d gone as rigid as a board.

“What does that mean?” Harry asked in a small voice, not daring to try and stand up again.

Madam Pomfrey swallowed loudly, “It means… that it is a very good thing you brought her to me when you did.” She looked back up at Snape, wordlessly summoning a yellow potion into her outstretched arm, “What did this, Severus? She’s not ill or Cursed – it would have come up on the Diagnostic.”

He reached forward, his hand the only part of his body working, as though to touch Ariel, and then recoiled. It was like Snape didn’t _want_ to touch her, but not for fear he’d disturb or hurt her – that him reaching for Ariel was some kind of impulse he couldn’t control.

“I did.” said Snape.

“Harry.” An old, weary voice called from behind them all. Harry spun around, finding the Headmaster standing several paces away from them, hands clasped together tightly in front of him.

Before Harry could respond, Snape seemed to snap out of his daze and asked, “Well? Did you find the damn thing?”

“I need you to come with me, Harry.” Dumbledore’s blue eyes were like marbles, holding something heavy, void of the usual merriment they’d always had.

Avoiding Snape’s question could only mean one thing. Harry’s chest tightened, and Snape’s nostrils flared. Harry heard his knuckles crack as they balled at his side.

“You _didn’t find it?”_ He hissed.

“Now please, Harry.” Dumbledore called calmly, holding out an arm to wrap around his shoulder as Harry wobbled over to him, feeling sick to his stomach, “Stay with Ariel, Severus, until I return.”

Something desperate, it was almost painful to look at, flashed across Snape’s face. But it was gone as quickly as it came, leaving behind a blank mask, fury simmering underneath.

Harry felt like he was back in the dream as Dumbledore led him from the hospital wing, eyes lingering on Ariel as Madam Pomfrey continued to work. He briefly saw Snape fall into a chair and bury his face into his hands.

It was morning, Harry realized, as he blinked at the barely passable sunlight. The remnants of birds were chirping outside, and he wondered why they hadn’t migrated somewhere warmer already. It was already freezing outside.

“Snape was right, wasn’t he?” Harry asked while his mind continued to wander.

_“Professor_ Snape,” Dumbledore corrected, and then gave a nod that looked like it took all of his strength to muster, “but yes, I’m afraid so.”

Harry’s face went numb, his hands going cold. Ariel’s eyes red… like burning embers, like something scorched and famished, locking onto his. Her mouth pulled back in a sneer…she had smiled at him like she would surely split in two. Her _voice…_

“Tell me what happened, Harry.” Dumbledore said, his hand still gripping his shoulder tightly. His blue eyes pierced the hallway before them for signs of life.

“You mean how I found her, sir?” Harry shuddered at the memory, of how the monster’s skin grated against his…

He nodded, “Tell me everything.”

And so Harry told him, how his scar how burned like it had when Quirrell had touched him, when the figure in the Forest had charged them, when Snape had looked at him at his Sorting. He told him what she and him had been one person, and how he’d heard Riddle’s voice sneering at him, laughing, jeering…

“Riddle must have been preventing her from Occluding at night.” Dumbledore said grimly once Harry had finished, “Or perhaps, she was subconsciously reaching out for you. It would seem the same could be said for her ridding herself of him when you found her.”

“She can do that?”

“The connection between your scars can. I doubt Ariel had any idea, in her state, nor did Tom. It seems that your magic is developed enough that you can now wander to her mind instead of just hers alone.”

“So… because Ariel wasn’t in control, the connection was left open?”

“Precisely.” They’d reached the girl’s bathroom, and Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck rise.

The door swung open, and they stepped inside. The floor was bare, the diary, the very one Harry had seen Ariel writing in since the start of term, gone.

“It was _here.”_ Harry whispered, “I saw… it was… I _know_ it was!” He dashed into the stalls, scanning the ground for any sign of it. How could he have been so _stupid…_ he should have grabbed it the _second…_

“I believe you.” Dumbledore said quietly, “Though now, another mystery has risen.”

“You don’t think…” Harry shook his head in disbelief, “This Tom… that he somehow made it _disappear._ That’s not possible!”

“I can’t make a conclusion without inspecting it myself.” Dumbledore sighed, “It _is_ possible that the part of Tom he concealed within the diary _has_ somehow hidden itself… or, the more likely, that someone found it and took it.”

“Who was he, sir?” Harry asked quietly. “Why is he doing this?”

Dumbledore turned, looking up at the high windows. Early morning sun was beginning to filter in, a single spotlight landing in front of the sinks, right where Harry had found Ariel earlier. Something glittering caught his eye, and as Harry bent down, he realized it was the necklace Not-Ariel had ripped off. He scooped it up, his fingers tracing over the Latin engraved on both sides.

“He was a boy,” Dumbledore said softly, “who grew to be a man that made all the wrong choices.”

* * *

He had to Occlude, or else, Severus was quite sure he’d fall apart at the seams.

He hadn’t even realized he’d done so before, when Ariel had said the _unthinkable,_ had thrown it at him, so blunt, so callous. It had felt like a physical blow, like someone had taken a Muggle bat and swung at his stomach. His senses, his emotions, had let out a collective shout, but within the same breath, his mind had recognized the unraveling and blocked it off.

Now that his anger had ebbed a bit, though it still burned against the girl and scorched his soul, it was proving more and more difficult to keep everything hidden deep below.

How she’d _cowered,_ how startled her black eyes had been. But there had been something else… like Ariel had _expected_ him to scream and shout and throw out his voice. So much, _so much_ of him still wanted to throttle her, shake her until her teeth rattled because she had been so _naive_ and _thoughtless…_ a _talking fucking diary…_

Ariel wasn’t stupid. She’d known what she’d been doing.

But _why?_

It had all unfolded right in front of his eyes, he’d _seen_ her writing in the damn thing! Severus had _watched her_ scribble in the blasted thing for hours, under the delusion she’d been doing homework, taking notes. If he’d only opened it, he would have known _instantly,_ saved her from the Dark Lord and his hold…

He… couldn’t have… _failed her…_ like _this…_

“Severus?” Dumbledore’s voice said from behind him, sounding each and every one of his hundred and fifty years.

He didn’t answer. Severus hadn’t the will, or the strength, for that matter.

“I’m leaving Harry with you for now while Minerva and I do a sweep of the school.”

Perfect. Fucking _wonderful._ Severus could have Lily’s eyes watching him while he sat and stirred in self loathing, accusing, blaming him, _knowing_ he had _watched this happen –_

A hand clasped around his shoulder – comfort, when he’d needed it most. Severus had almost forgotten what it felt like. A shuddering breath passed through him.

“She needs you, my friend.” Dumbledore said, sympathy layering every inch of his voice, “Please keep in mind that she is the victim here.”

Images flashed through his mind… 

_A broken body on a nursery floor._

_“Bad man,” Her tiny finger had pointed down at an illustration, “bad.”_

_Her voice cracked under the weight of living, under the weight of the truth and what it held, what he had done._

_He heard her shriek, the boy cry out –_

“Should I be making preparations to leave the castle, then?” Severus whispered, the idea of the Dark Lord… _whatever_ form he was in…

“No,” Dumbledore said, “I think Ariel may have… neutralized him, when she Occluded. Harry distracted Tom long enough for Ariel to catch him off guard.”

Severus didn’t respond to that. He simply nodded into his hands, focusing on the darkness, relishing it and the haven it provided. He didn’t dare look up at Ariel, still fast asleep in the bed.

He heard Potter slide into the seat at the end of Ariel’s bed without a single word to him as Dumbledore left. Severus said nothing as he held out his arm, wordlessly summoning a pillowing. He tossed it at him.

There was a brief pause, “Thank you, sir.”

And then there was blissful silence _(terrible, damning, accusatory)_ silence. Severus focused on his daughter’s breathing, listening for each and every one, counting, savoring them. Poppy had glared at him while she’d worked – she’d wanted answers that Severus wasn’t going to give her, because he couldn’t form the words. She could ask Dumbledore if she was so fucking desperate. It was a wonder Minerva hadn’t found her way down her by now and given him a piece of his mind.

“Why are you mad at her?” The boy’s voice hit Severus’ eardrums, the vibrations from it making him twitch.

Because she had shaken him to his very core. Because once again, that mind boggling _foolish_ girl had scared the living _daylights_ out of him. Severus wouldn’t survive if he lost her. He couldn’t. _Wouldn’t._

He’d felt his world shatter when Lily had died, felt the foundations of his existence fall out from underneath him. Then the girl, who has so adamantly declared him _Daddy_ had became his redemption, the _one_ thing he clung to. Ariel didn’t know, hadn’t the slightest clue just _how_ precious she was to him. She flung herself into the unknown for the sake of courage and valor, and didn’t see how Severus had to pick up his tattered heart when it fell out of him.

That beautiful, wonderful, terrifying, girl was going to be the death of him. He couldn’t believe he was having these thoughts – if the Dark Lord returned tomorrow, Severus would be dead the minute he examined his mind.

Severus groaned, instead, in response.

“It’s that Tom Riddle’s fault, if you’re going to blame someone!” Potter said angrily.

“Why are you _talking?”_ Severus snapped back, though it lost some of the effect, since his face was still buried in his hands, “I believe I told you to _keep quiet_ before.”

“He _hurt her.”_ Potter said in a loud voice, “Don’t you _care?”_

Of course he goddamn fucking _cared,_ that was the _problem –_

“I am well aware of the situation.” He snarled.

“Are you?”

It was the first time Severus could recall, that the boy had ever been so bold. But it wasn’t the James Potter bold – the kind of nerve that sang he was king of the world from the mountaintops. It was the courage Severus had seen in Lily, admired, wished he had himself.

The kind that got Ariel into trouble. Put her in danger. Made her the target of a certain Dark Lord.

“Mr Potter,” The last of his sanity was slipping through his fingers at the boy’s words, he could _feel_ Lily’s eyes burning a hole into his head, “I suggest you cease and desist before I do something I am going to very much regret.”

He heard a sniffle, and Severus held his breath.

Oh no no _no_

The brat was _crying._

Severus couldn’t deal with a weepy child. For fuck’s sake, he couldn’t deal with the _unconscious_ one. What was he supposed to –

“Stop crying, Potter.” He said, borderline _pleaded._

“It’s all my fault.” Potter’s voice was thick, “I should have known…”

He had now become an embodiment of everything Severus was trying to smother. It was his punishment…

Fate really did have it in for him. This was justice for Lily.

“Yes, Potter.” Severus muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes still closed, “You should _absolutely_ have known that a diary containing the remnants of an emotionally disturbed sixth year student from over half a century ago was possessing your sister. How _dare_ you think anything _otherwise.”_

“I _saw_ her with the diary! She was sitting in your quarters in some weird trance… and then she snapped out of it… I should’ve told you that night. It’s all my fault…”

Severus felt his entire existence spasm. Without his permission, his eyes finally opened and landed on Potter

“She… she yelled at me.” He whispered, “She told me to get out.”

He could feel how those words hurt him.

“It… wasn’t… _her,_ Potter.” The words strangled his windpipe.

“I know that.”

“You should have told me, then.” Severus didn’t have it in him to get angry with the boy. He felt drained; lifeless. They had _all_ let her down, in the end. “But we can’t change that now.”

“I was afraid…” Potter bit his lip, “I thought… maybe she’d heard the rumors about me being the Heir… that… I don’t know…”

He couldn’t even think about the irony of that statement. It made him want to rip his hair out.

“It should have been me.” The boy said miserably, “If Hermione and Ron believed I wasn’t the Heir, I should have known Ariel… if she was herself… that she’d never…”

“You _were_ the one, Potter.” Severus said tiredly, “Did you not discover her in the girl’s bathroom?”

“I still should have told you about when I found her. I had a hunch she was the Heir… but I couldn’t…”

_Ariel, sitting on the couch, her eyes hollow and face twisted into a sneer_

_Stop acting like I'm about to break into a million pieces! You've been babying me all year and I'm_ _sick of it! Just leave me alone!_

Severus couldn’t fathom… would never had imagined… not the girl. Not her. Anyone _but_ her. He _should_ have known it when Lucius had come to the game and Ariel hadn’t gone to see Potter. All those nights of her being shut up in her room, where Severus thought she’d been the safest…

“You will tell either Malfoy nothing of this.” Severus told him, wanting this conversation to end, “Do you understand?”

“Because of Lucius?”

Yes, because of motherfucking Lucius, the bastard, the man who had dared _target his daughter he was going to kill him he was going to have him begging by the time he was fucking through with him how dare he how dare not her her HER_

“Yes,” Severus said tonelessly, “because of Lucius.”

Because of Lucius, because of her, because of the Dark Lord.

Severus let his eyes drift closed again, though not in search of sleep. Merlin knew that if the Dark Lord, whatever form he chose, burst through those doors, Severus was going to be ready. He’d rip his kidneys out of his fucking mouth.

He heard something then – the sound of metal grating against the tile, the patter of feet, something being set down. Why couldn’t the brat just _sit still_ and go to _sleep?_ He should be _exhausted –_

The was a presence next to him, then. Severus couldn’t ignore it, and when he allowed his eyes to flicker open, he wished he hadn’t.

Potter had moved his chair alongside his and curled himself against the pillow, his breathing already steady and deep.

Warmth seeped into through all of the numbing cold, but before it could take root, Severus took _that_ emotion and flung it far, _far_ away from him. It was simply too much. He wanted this nightmare to end.

The boy let out a shuddering sigh, like he was cold, but Severus knew that had nothing to do with it.

* * *

The next day, Madam Pomfrey corralled Harry as soon as he’d woken up and let him use her Floo to travel to Dumbledore’s office. Harry wondered if the Headmaster ever slept, but surmised that in light of recent events, he probably wouldn’t be sleeping a wink. He knew he wouldn’t.

Harry was given a rock upon his arrival, emerald green, just like his eyes, and small enough to fit inside his closed fist.

“Whisper into it,” Dumbledore told him, “and help will come at once.”

“Can’t I stay with her?” Harry had asked as he pocketed it, “What if something happens and I’m not there?”

“She’ll be fine, my dear boy.” He’d smiled, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “I’d like to attract as little attention to Ariel as possible until we can locate the whereabouts of the diary. Your absence will only look all the more suspicious. I’ll arrange for a professor to bring you to see her later on tonight, if she’s still in the hospital wing. I’m sure Professor Snape would like to move her to a more private location soon.”

“And she’ll…” Harry swallowed audibly, “She’ll be okay? Riddle’s really gone?”

“I don’t know whether Riddle’s departure is permanent,” Dumbledore leaned forward, clasping his hands in front of him, “but I _do_ know that Ariel will be just fine.”

“What’s stopping him from coming back?” He asked, wringing his hands in his robes. He didn’t want to leave his sister, even though she was with _Snape,_ the man who had thought _Harry_ had a plan to turn Ariel against him last year. He’d been so horrible to her last night…

“I imagine,” Dumbledore said, “that her love for you was enough to overcome Riddle’s lust for your life. Love is, after all, what defeated Voldemort all those years ago.”

He shuddered, but somewhere deep within him, Harry felt a thrill of hope, accompanied by a burn he could identify. 

Now he was walking the corridors, like his sister wasn’t unconscious in the hospital wing, like she hadn’t been possessed less than twelve hours ago, and that Harry had stared this Tom Riddle in the eye and outsmarted him. Guilt was settling in Harry’s stomach. If he wasn’t so jittery, he was quite sure he’d just go back to his dormitory and hide in his bed all day – or vomit.

_“HARRY!”_ Two simultaneous voices shouted from somewhere behind him.

He turned at the sound of his name, Ron and Hermione both rushing towards him. Truly, Harry had never seen a more welcome sight. An unexpected, weak smile stretched across his face.

“Harry, I know what it is!” Hermione babbled excitedly, “I’ve figured it all out!”

He blinked at her as she bounced on her tiptoes, “Figured out what?”

“What Slytherin’s monster is!” Her eyes shined in triumph, “It was quite obvious, really, once I thought about it! Ron and I were studying last night – well, really, _I_ was studying, Ron was playing chess with Seamus, but –”

“Get to the point, Hermione.” Ron rolled his eyes, exasperated.

“Oh, right!” She looked around for signs of anyone listening, and leaned in closely, “It’s a _basilisk.”_

The name bounced around inside Harry’s head a couple of times, and then, the voice began to creep over him. _“Kill… blood… tear…”_

Harry flinched, and began to tremble.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione frowned, “I thought you’d be happy… well, maybe that’s the wrong word. It’s the only thing that makes sense, with you hearing that voice and being a Parselmouth… not to mention that basilisk have the power to Petrify their victims and Slytherin _is_ the House of _snakes.”_

The world was beginning to spin. Harry found his feet as he gripped the wall, holding onto it and willing the corridor to stop tilting about.

“Harry?” Ron sounded worried now, “Mate, what’s wrong? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

He took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut, and forced the image of his sister screaming and clutching her face from his mind.

He told them.

They were very quiet when he had finished. Not scared, but the same kind of sorrow Harry had felt within himself when he’d found his sister on the bathroom floor. Empathy. Worry.

“We have to find Riddle.” Harry said quietly, when neither of them said anything, “Before he hurts someone else. Or worse… comes back for Ariel.”

Hermione’s eyes immediately widened, “And how are we supposed to do _that?”_

“Well,” Ron said, blue eyes holding a bit hesitation, “I reckon we’ll have to find that diary.”

“And how on earth are we –”

“We know what to look for,” Harry interrupted, “and diaries _don’t_ just get up and walk away on their own, possessed or not. Someone must have taken it.”

“But _who?”_ Hermione asked, throwing her hands up, “Harry, it was the middle of the night! Who would have gone all the way down to the girl’s loo and picked up an old notebook?”

“That’s what we have to find out.”

“Should we get Damon, then?” Ron asked.

“No!” Harry said in a loud voice.

They both gave him looks of confusion, startled by his outburst.

“Snape… he didn’t want _anyone_ to know.” He explained quickly, “Let’s just keep it between the three of us for now.”

“But he’s Ariel’s best friend!” Hermione crossed her arms, “Wouldn’t you want _us_ to know if it was you?”

“Snape said –”

“If this is because you’re still angry with him over not telling us about the chamber...”

“She’s _my_ sister, and I’ll decide who we do and don’t tell, alright?” Harry snapped.

The truth was that he didn’t think it right for Damon to know his uncle was responsible in the midst of all this. Until they could find the diary, Harry was keeping him on a need-to-know basis only. The last thing he needed was Damon trying to help and causing more harm than good…

“Fine.” Hermione’s voice said anything but, but she put her hands on her hips, “Then what do you want to do?”

“Library.” Harry said automatically. If Ariel was here, she would have groaned, “I want to find out who this Riddle prat is.”

Hermione beamed with pride.

“Fine,” Ron grumbled, though it was halfhearted, “it’s Saturday, so we’re bound to have it to ourselves anyway.”

He was right – there wasn’t a soul in the library yet, save Madam Pince, who gave them a nasty look as they whisked past her and to the bookcase marked _Index,_ grabbing the group of textbooks pertaining to the most notable wizards and witches and their works.

There wasn’t anything pertaining to _anyone_ under the name of Riddle under the first two Harry flipped through. Hermione and Ron were checking one that was twice the size of his thoroughly together. His frustration was easily ignited under the pressure of finding the diary and his sister’s current state.

“Hey, look Harry!” Ron called out as Harry reached for a third, “You and Ariel are in this one – your parents too!” He shoved the book in his direction.

His eyes fell upon four names, all listed within a margin of one another. A lump formed in his throat. 

_Potter, Ariel & Harry. Known and recognized for the fall of You-Know-Who. Only two known survivors of the Killing Curse._

_Potter, James & Lily. Fought in the resistance against You-Know-Who, ultimately giving their lives. _

He flipped through the index, and felt his insides turn to ash.

_Riddle, Tom – see You-Know-Who_

His heart skipped a beat. Riddle was associated with _Voldemort?_ Was there not enough for him to have his own section?

Harry quickly flipped through the pages, locating _You-Know-Who_ (he rolled his eyes at how the publisher hadn’t even felt confident enough to print Voldemort) and read the text underneath the stupid title.

_“You-Know-Who,”_ The book read, _“is known as the darkest wizard of the modern era, and the leader of the terrorist group known as the Death Eaters. Formerly known as Tom M. Riddle…”_

Harry saw nothing after this. His vision blurred.

_Formerly known as Tom M. Riddle_

_Tom M. Riddle_

“Hermione,” Harry whispered, passing the book to her, _“look.”_

* * *

She awoke to the feeling of lead twisting her stomach – oppressive dread. It came back in flashes. Faces. Words. Shouts.

Had she dreamed it all? Ariel flinched, the thrill of hope sudden feeling like a backhand.

Tom hated when she thought there was a way out… it was why she hadn’t been sleeping. He’d kept her boxed up for so long, it was almost foreign for her to breath on her own. It had been almost two whole months of Tom… of not knowing whether he’d make her hurt someone else…

But he was… gone. Ariel couldn’t feel him. There was no invisible first squeezing her airway and voice dripping venom, poisoning her body and mind…

A hand flew up to her mouth as her stomach heaved.

She’d

_hurt_

_people._

_“What have you done?”_ Her father had asked when she’d told him, revulsion twisting his face.

It all slammed into her once, like bludger to the chest. Ariel could hear her voice in her ears, all the terrible things she’d said to her brother, the cold tone she’d taken with her father. The fear had been numbed for the most part, because Tom didn’t let her feel much of anything, but now that he was gone –   _gone –_ it was heart stopping. Ariel had felt Tom’s bloodlust surge through her own veins at the sight of Harry… the decision to end him…

The guilt was paralyzing. Ariel could only stare into the space in front of her, unseeing, as a sob ripped through her chest. Colin… who had been the other? Dumbledore hadn’t been able to tell her…

She’d wanted so badly to be free, but now that she was, she was empty. Tom had taken everything and left nothing behind.

“You’re awake.” a very put-upon voice said.

She couldn’t see anything through the stream of tears, but felt a stern hand lift her chin upwards and lift a vial of something that tasted like dirty socks to her lips.

“Dad?” Ariel reached for him, longing for the touch of someone else.

“Go back to sleep.” Her father pushed away her hand, and she shrank back.

_“Dad?”_ She repeated, feeling the rejection deep in the most vulnerable parts of her heart.

Disoriented, Ariel heard the door close and felt her already shattered defenses crumble to dust. Her father hated her, just like Tom had said. He couldn’t stand the sight of her. He wouldn’t even _look_ at her, let alone _touch_ her. It had been so long since she’d known anything other than fear and hopelessness and desperation. Ariel had wanted to keep them safe…

She’d most certainly go mad.

* * *

Poppy had told Severus he could take Ariel back to their quarters that evening. Even though it was far more secure than the infirmary, he still felt an odd sense of discord as he picked up the girl and carried her down to the dungeons, making sure to keep her body hidden beneath the cover of his robes. He’d summoned the Bloody Baron after he’d deposited Ariel into her bed and told him to make sure the boy was in his dormitory for the night. He doubted Potter knew, but Dumbledore had put all of the professors on revolving shifts to keep an eye on him.

The shower had been running for exactly twenty-eight minutes now. Ariel had gone into an hour or so after he’d found her awake. Severus had been surprised the girl had even bothered to get out of bed. He’d been expecting to hear her cry or fall back asleep and for all of his self loathing and revulsion to keep him stuck in his desk chair. He couldn’t retire to his bedroom, because then he couldn’t watch Ariel’s door _and_ the one to his quarters.

He couldn’t stand to be in the same room as her, but more than one apart.

_(She wasn’t supposed to be awake yet why the hell was she awake)_

Potter had come by already, _twice._ The second time, his chest had been heaving, and he looked… frightened, more so than the first time. Severus had sent him away on both occasions, telling him Ariel was still asleep, and the boy had enough of a mind not to fight him, though he’d been persistent.

“You’re sure she’s in there?” Potter had asked the second time.

Severus had sneered down at him, “Quite.”

“When’s the last time you check?”

“What are you, the Inquisition?” He’d snapped down at the green-eyed monster, and promptly slammed the door in his face. Of course he’d fucking checked the second the door had closed, and found her awake and looking… distressed wasn’t nearly the right word.

Severus still couldn’t face her… _deal_ with her. Her eyes were so large and empty. They reminded him so much of his own and he couldn’t stand the thought that somehow, Ariel had found her own demons so young, at _all._

Not _her._

At the thirty-minute mark, Severus reluctantly, and frantically, rose from his desk and entered her room, and stood outside of her bathroom door.

“Ariel?” Severus knocked thrice, leaning his ear against the wood, “You’ve been in there long enough.”

There was no reply. He jiggled the doorknob. Of course she’d fucking locked it.

“Ariel?” Panic seeped into Severus’ voice, “Answer me.”

The steady stream of water continued.

_He hurt her_

_“Alohomora.”_ Severus hissed, throwing the door open and ripping back the shower curtain in the same motion.

He stared, and stared, and stared.

The girl was sitting in the shower, the water scalding hot, fully clothed. She hadn’t even bothered to take her slippers off. Her arms were wrapped around her legs, which were tucked securely under her chin.

Ariel looked up at him under dripping eyelashes, her eyes bloodshot and swollen.

“He didn’t let me feel anything.” She told him, “I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Compassion reached it’s way up and wrapped itself around his heart.

Severus shut the water off, and Ariel shivered at the loss of contact. He silently bent down and cast a drying charm. Ariel moved to stand, but before she could lurch to her feet, Severus wrapped his arms around her waist and underneath her legs, and picked her clean off the ceramic of the shower.

Her head nestled itself into the hollow of his neck, but Severus noted that she kept her hands to herself.

“I’m sorry.” Ariel said in a broken voice as he seated himself on her bed.

Severus lowered his shields. Everything crashed, _everything,_ but he had an anchor.

The girl peered up at him, begging him.

Blinding.

“I know.” Severus said, holding her close. He couldn’t imagine letting go. The thought was… unthinkable.

She cried, and it sounded like her heart breaking.


	46. Language of the Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you don’t like Ariel, or Snape, or their interactions, you can skip this chapter. I thought it important to show the healing and this specific conversation. If you do – enjoy. This used to be one of my favorite chapters, but now I’m reALLY NERVOUS ABOUT IT for some reason.
> 
> The sun-rising reference is credited to House of Cards.
> 
> ANYWAY; enjoy, and until tomorrow! Please review! Xx

She was being rocked, something strong and warm wrapped around her in an iron grip that made her feel safe, like Tom couldn't get her from wherever she was being kept. If this was the afterlife, Ariel was content with it. She let her mind float, letting it wander as she burrowed against the source of heat that continued the soothing rhythm. Was it her mum? Was she finally with her?

She didn't deserve her after what she'd done. Her father had shown her that much. Tom had told it countless times.

“Poppy said she’ll be alright.” A voice said from far away. It seemed to reverberate around in her skull, if she even had one anymore. Ariel was nothing, content with letting the rocking continue as she focused on her breathing and that Tom was no longer screaming inside her head.

“I’m not letting her go.” A deep, baritone voice replied with a strength that matched the one holding her in place. Was it God, then? Ariel didn't believe in God, or any higher power, really, but if there was a God, Ariel guessed he’d sound like that voice.

“I never said you had to.”

“Even if you did, I wouldn’t. Why are you here?”

“I thought you… might appreciate the company until she comes around.”

“She’s not sleeping. She was crying earlier, but I think she’s tuckered herself out.”

“Continuously?” There was pity somewhere in there.

“On and off.”

“You should give her something.”

“I’m not going to suppress her anymore, seeing as _that_ led to her condition at the present moment.” God-voice sneered back.

“Fair enough.” There was a frown now, “She’s lost quite a bit of weight. You should at least give her a Nutrition potion.”

“If I wanted parenting advice, I’d fucking ask for it!” God snapped. God cursed? The same voice sighed, “My apologies, Albus, I just –”

“You needn’t apologize, my friend. You’re under a great deal of stress. I feel… I should have known, done more to investigate. I believed that perhaps Riddle would reveal himself to them at some point, but nothing like this…”

Something was pressing against the top of her head – did she still have a head? – and she heard it whisper something unintelligible.

“Have you thought about it at all?” said other-voice softly.

“About what? Ripping out Lucius’ bowels through his nose?”

“That’s not what I was referring to, but since you’ve brought it up, I beseech you not to retaliate.”

“I’m patient, Albus.” The god-voice became dark, silk outlining every letter, “He’ll get his dues.”

“I won’t listen to your threats, Severus. I can’t.”

“It’s not a threat. It’s a promise.”

Someone sighed, like they were exasperated, “To get back to my earlier point, I meant how she forced Tom from her mind.”

“She was afraid he’d harm the boy. Fear is a driving force when provoked.”

“Still, Occluding like that, overcoming such an oppressive presence… if she’d been doing his bidding for months, Severus, Ariel must have already been quite subdued. To break free of that…”

“What the hell is your point? Or is there one?”

“I find it curious. She possesses the same Occlumency skills you do, my boy. Or at least, she has the potential to.”

“And how well did it help her when he took away her will?”

“For lack of a better term, Ariel lacked the motivation, most likely.”

_“Motivation._ As though a child should have the capability to _overthrow –”_

“Forgive me, Severus, that was callous.”

“Don’t preach to me about how you know the secrets of the mind, Dumbledore. She should have _never…_ for Merlin’s _sake –”_

“I don’t claim to know anything, Severus. I simply draw conclusions based off of the facts.”

“Ah, unless it pertains to the heart. That’s where this all leads back to, isn’t it?”

“The heart is hard to translate. It has a language of it’s own.”

“I have no interest in learning. Not after this. She needs to be broken of this… _reckless behavior._ She wasn’t like this when she was younger…”

“This was not teenage rebellion, Severus. This was the cunning and manipulative mind of a troubled young man.”

The God-voice didn’t reply. It was very, very quiet after that, and Ariel wondered about the strange conversation. It didn’t seem like something that should be happening. What did she matter?

“I think she’s lucid.” The other voice, not God, said, “She’s stirring a bit.”

The weight on her head was gone, making Ariel let out a moan. She’d liked it. She liked feeling surrounded, like nothing could find her again. It was like the shower – the feeling of something touching her skin.

“Ariel?” It felt like a finger was grazing her cheek, “Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?”

God wanted her to open her eyes? Huh, this wasn't what Ariel had imagined the afterlife to be at all. How curious.

“Severus –”

_“Leave,_ Albus. Let her be.”

She groaned, pressing her head against the source of heat. It felt rough, like robes her father had worn. She hadn’t felt it in so long… Tom had kept her numb.

“Come now, child.” The god-voice said gently, “You can open your eyes.”

He was reassuring her, Ariel thought with a rush of happiness. After everything she’d done, maybe she’d –

There was a heartbeat under her ear. She could hear it thumping, a strong sound Ariel found herself focusing on as something gently pried her away from whatever she was leaning against.

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter before she cracked them open, soft lighting meeting her. Ariel was grateful for it, grateful that she’d had the opportunity to sleep after so many weeks of restless nights, terrorized by Tom day and night, a never ending nightmare. She blinked a couple of times, curling her fingers around something soft.

Everything seemed to crash into her and once. Ariel tensed, waiting for Riddle to start screaming once more, for him to command and threaten and rip another piece of her apart. She waited for the pain, prepared herself to fight against him once more and lose, because as powerless as she was, she wouldn’t stop, because he was –

He was gone. _Oh._

She wasn’t dead. Only…

Ariel suddenly yearned for the bliss of being shoved to the back of her mind, because all at once, everything she’d done came rushing through her like some great force, like a black hole that sucked her up and threw her so far that she felt her bones begin to shake. She bit back the tears, because Tom had hated when she cried. He thought it weak and pitiful and annoying. If he knew Ariel was crying, he’d be so angry… he’d hurt another student…

Crying wasn’t something she deserved. She didn’t get to feel sorry, because she was the cause of so much sorrow.

_“No,”_ Ariel felt herself croak out.

Whoever, whatever, was holding her, tightened their grip. She could barely breath, her airway pressed up against the source of heat, but it felt good. Every breath she took burned her throat, felt like was wrong, because she didn’t deserve to live after what she’d done to the one of the only people Ariel had tried so hard to protect. Her father _hated her…_ just like Tom had said.

“Ariel.” The voice, just above her head, “Ariel…”

“I’m so sorry.” She whispered, to whom, she did not know, “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

“I know,” It told her, “I know, my girl.”

The release was almost too much for her to bear.

* * *

Her face was buried against his robes so that Severus could not see it, and for now, it was enough. He could feel her breathing in his arms, her warmth, feel _her, here._ Severus hadn’t realized just how long it had been since Ariel had willingly been this close. He sat atop her bed in her room, his arms locked securely around her body, which was lying in his lap. Severus sat upright, leaning against the wall the bed was pushed up against, letting his eyes wander.

They purposely avoided the happy family watching them both from her nightstand.

Neither of them had said a single word for ages. She’d simply sobbed for several hours, and Severus hadn’t tried to stop her. He knew all too well what it was like to keep so much bottled up. _He_ could handle it, better than most people, really, but Ariel could not. She needed a release before they moved forward, before he could help her heal. She needed to know that she was back in control – Severus made a mental note to research the after affects of long-term duress under possession, or even spells similar to the Imperius, to see what more he could do.

It had been the very early hours of the morning when he’d tried to coax a vial of Dreamless Sleep down her throat, right after Dumbledore had left, but Ariel had only shaken her head and burrowed closer to him. Severus hadn’t the energy to spell it into her stomach and shatter the remaining defenses she had left. She probably hadn’t had the option of staying awake in weeks. Severus had stayed with her, all this time, even though his eyes burned for sleep and limbs felt heavy as lead. He would destroy himself just to fix her.

His un-Occluded thoughts did things to him that made Severus grit his teeth and bite it back as it clawed its way up his throat.

Severus hadn’t any idea what time it was when a pair of dark eyes finally peeked up at him. They were blacker than night, and the beginnings of morning light filtering through the windows reflected off of them. They didn’t absorb, _see_ him like they used to.

“You don’t have to stay.” Ariel’s voice cracked with every syllable. It sounded sore, most likely from all the crying. He reminded himself to make her tea after she slept – _if_ he ever got her to lie down.

“I want to.” Severus murmured against her hair. It smelt like sulfur and tears.

She made a disagreeing sound. It was enough of her usual defiance, a flicker of _his_ Ariel, to make his heart flutter.

“Do _you_ want me to leave?” He asked her when she didn’t respond, the thought agonizing in his state of mind, with his defenses down. She needed him like this, though, if she was going to become whole again.

Ariel shook her head against him, “No… I just… I didn’t know if you _wanted_ to stay, or you just felt bad.”

Well, _that_ was the understatement of the century.

“Why would I not want to stay?” Severus asked her, already knowing the answer.

He’d begun to realize that he’d scared her, _badly,_ earlier that evening. He knew that, but wouldn’t take it back. Ariel had to know – _had to –_ just how serious a single choice had been _._ The Dark Lord was, according to Dumbledore, banished back to the confines of the diary most likely, for he had nothing left to feed off like some parasite. The thought comforted him just barely – there was still the matter of _where_ the fucking thing was, now.

_(She scared him beyond comprehension beyond belief beyond anything he had ever felt apart from Lily’s murder she was so reckless so so so reckless)_

She didn’t answer for several minutes. Ariel grabbed the ends of his robes and tucked them securely around her so that was completely covered by them, her head coming to rest against his sternum.

“Don’t you hate me?” She asked, misery coating every inch of her voice.

Hate her? Did the girl _still_ not realize… for Merlin’s _sake…_

“Being livid and severely disappointed with you does not amount of any measure of loathing on my part.” Severus whispered to the top of her hair. His grip around her unconsciously tightened.

He felt her hesitate, “Is that a no?”

“No, Ariel I don’t hate you.” He told her, a hint of exasperation in his voice, “I could never.”

“He… he didn’t…” Ariel swallowed, “I never… thought… Tom…”

“We don’t have to talk about this now.” He told her, beginning to run his hands through her hair in a soothing manner.

“I _want_ to.”

“You need rest.” Severus tried to say gently, “How do you feel?”

Ariel gave him a look that told him she didn't like the subject change, “Okay, I guess. I was really disoriented before, but now I feel a bit better. I thought you were God.”

He blinked, “Excuse me?”

“I thought…” She shook her head, looking embarrassed, “never mind.”

“Tell me.” He jerked her chin upwards.

“For a minute, I thought I was with Mum.” Ariel whispered brokenly, not holding his gaze, “It was just you holding me, but I figured if I was with Mum… my mind concluded you were God, apparently.”

Christ, she needed to sleep.

Severus snorted, “You really shouldn’t insult what many hold to be their creator.”

Ariel didn’t respond. She just curled further into herself, mildly rocking.

He sighed, “You need rest, child. I’ll stay with you, if you want, while you sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I don’t deserve it.” There was so much self loathing in her voice that it didn’t even _sound_ like Ariel, “I… want to explain myself.”

Severus stopped his hand for a moment, and sighed. He let his eyes close of his own accord, feeling the girl in his arms, anchoring himself to her. If this was what she wanted at the moment, Severus wasn’t about to deny her it, “I can’t even begin to comprehend what you were thinking.”

Ariel hung her head in shame. Even in the darkness, Severus could see the dark circles under her eyes, the redness on the rims, “I was stupid. He agreed to help me with schoolwork and spells if I talked to him and kept him company. I felt bad for him. He said he hadn’t any friends when he was in school. I know he was only a stupid diary, but he was really… _convincing.”_

“The idea of of inanimate object holding an intelligent conversation didn’t alarm you?” Severus asked. He tried to keep his anger from creeping back into his voice – he’d given her more than enough before. She’d been in shock and weakened – hysterical. His timing could have been much better, but when Ariel had said she’d _let him in…_

“I asked him.” She began to wring his hands in her lap, her eyes glued to them, “Riddle said he’d just Charmed the notebook to talk to him because he hadn’t any friends.”

“I see.” Severus rubbed his face tiredly. This _was_ the Dark Lord they were discussing, though Ariel didn’t know it yet. He had to give Ariel the benefit of the doubt in the fact that he was _very_ good at getting people to believe his twisted lies. Severus had all too easily fallen into them… look where they had left him _now._

“I tried to tell you that day in Lockhart’s class.” Ariel went on, “It… I didn’t start hearing him in my head until Colin…” Her speech cut off with a sharp gasp. He could see the image of the boy’s rigid form in her eyes.

“We can stop.” Severus shushed her, bringing her back into the fold, “You don’t have to tell me the rest right now.”

“It c-could have been Harry!” Ariel wept, shaking her head against him, “Or y-you!”

Ah, that was it, wasn’t it? The notion that had solidified itself in her head that somehow, _she_ was in a position to play martyr. That somehow, _Ariel_ had this obligation to protect the boy and Severus. If she had simply shown herself fighting the Dark Lord, Severus would have known _immediately,_ he would have moved heaven and earth to remove him, destroy that cursed diary, expel him from his daughter’s mind and soul. The Dark Lord wouldn’t have had the _chance_ to summon the basilisk, because Severus would have made sure Ariel was _safe._

How could he blame her for loving him, for the loving the boy?

Severus hadn’t the heart.

He took what he didn’t deserve.

“You still should have told me.” Severus gripped her face in his hands, “What if Potter _hadn’t_ found you tonight, child? What where would this have led?”

“He probably would have killed me, in the end.” Ariel told him, like this was some accepted truth.

His breath was stolen from his lungs, muscles tightening

“And you’re,” Severus spoke slowly, something great and dark coming straight for him, _“okay with that.”_

“If it kept you and Harry safe,” She said quietly, “than yes. It was _my_ fault, anyway. _I_ brought him here.”

“Ariel,” He said in a dangerous voice, “if you think that your _death_ would have been a reasonable ending –”

“You don’t _understand!”_ She cried, shoving her hands against her chest, “He would have… I _knew_ people were getting hurt, but if I let on to _anyone_ that it was me, Tom would have set whatever the hell is in the Chamber on you! That’s why I _left_ the other night! You were keeping such a close watch… Tom was getting impatient!”

“Ariel…”

“I had to _choose,”_ Her eyes glistened and shone, like broken glass, “between keeping you two safe and knowing students would get hurt… or… or…” She sat up abruptly, still seated in his lap, “You can look!”

Severus frowned, “What are you talking about?”

“That spell you used in Dumbledore’s office!” Ariel tugged on his sleeve, “Look, see what I’m talking about! I… I can’t explain it…”

His stomach lurched. Ariel climbed out of his lap and sat back on her haunches, looking up at him imploringly.

“I am _not_ using that spell on you to sift through your memories.” Severus told her coldly.

“You’ll understand!” There was a desperate gleam in her eyes, “Please… I can’t… _say it…_ there’s no way to tell you in a way that won’t sound ridiculous… please, Dad, _please?”_

Severus studied her for a long moment. He couldn’t recall her ever looking so vulnerable. Her eyes were so large, begging him to give her this one thing. 

It hit him, then. Ariel shouldn’t have to go through it alone. It was all _his_ fault, after all. Of all the people that should have realized something was _wrong,_ it should have been _him._ Severus should have barricaded Ariel in the hospital wing until Poppy had found something wrong. He should have listened to the pulling on his heart and mind. Severus should have known his daughter had left him.

_Should have should have should have_

The Dark Lord had taken her beneath the protection Severus had thought was impenetrable. He’d violated her mind, treated her like she was some kind of shell he could easily crawl out of and discard…

“You will be forced to watch them if I do this.” said Severus.

“It’s not like I can stop them _now.”_

His eyes closed, “You’re certain?”

“Yes,” Ariel whispered, “just do it. I want you to see… please.”

Sharing in her suffering was the least Severus could do.

“I’ll feel if you beginning to resist, and I’ll stop immediately.” He brushed her hair back from her face, “Alright?”

She nodded.

“Look at me,” He murmured, holding her face in place with the tips of his fingers, _“Legilimens!”_

Ariel was so willing that Severus was almost _pulled in,_ the sudden strength surprising him. He felt himself fall into her dark eyes, his very own on another’s face, and felt the impact of his landing. The memories were at the forefront of her mind, pushing themselves towards him. Ariel was undoubtedly thinking of them in particular, making it easier for Severus to find and access each one. He did his best to be gentle as he looked into the first.

Pain.

It was… _everywhere,_ alarmingly so, coating every memory he touched, even if he just _grazed_ them. The memories were only pieces, fractions of the whole story, but enough for Severus to see what it was Ariel was trying to say. The earliest was the way her hand would fly up to her throat when she was speaking to him about her maddening behavior. It was then that Severus realized, a wave of horror, that the Dark Lord had begun _that_ early. Ariel’s apprehension at telling him in the first place, combined with the spark he needed…

Again and again Ariel had _tried,_ but Severus could see already that it was too late.

Confusion.

The blackouts had left her puzzled more than frightened, at least, at first. Ariel had blamed it on stress – sleepless nights filled with studying and writing to the diary. Her emotions were heightened, his merging with hers. She’d been disappearing in plain sight and not realizing it.

Anger.

It had been the Quidditch match that had given the Dark Lord his opening. Her emotions up until this point hadn’t been enough for him to take advantage. Ariel had enough sense not to pour her heart out to the fucking diary. Severus felt his blood turn to ice as he watched Potter fall from the broom once again, and then, Ariel’s eyes had gone from the boy to _him,_ and Lucius had smiled and clamped him on the shoulder –

It had been enough, the possessiveness that overcame her and the fury at the Malfoys…

And then, again, when she’d awoken. Severus’ heart swelled with something he couldn’t describe as he watched Ariel hiss into the darkness, and then –

Regret.

It was fear embedded with such misery that he felt disembodied. She fell to the ground as a wave of white hot agony rolled, striking her into submission, the shadow of his threats holding her in some place so far down within herself that Severus marveled at how she’d climbed back up. He saw it all, the way she bit back her screams and longed to go to him for comfort. The way she looked at her brother with fresh terror making her eyes shimmer like coals.

Fear.

He heard the jeering, his amusement at her suffering. Severus felt the way she writhed when he spoke of him and Potter, like there lives were so easy to pluck for her hands.

_“You’re nothing to him.”_

_“What will he do when he realizes what you are and what you’ve done? He’ll cast you away.”_

_“He does not love you unconditionally. I can see how you wrestle with that and try so very hard to convince yourself it’s not true.”_

She’d _believed_ him.

He withdrew from her mind, both of them falling back as the connection snapped like an elastic band on both ends.

It was unbearable. Severus could feel his heart thundering in his chest, his entire _being_ itching to hurt something, lash out and release _some_ of the homicidal rage that burned a hole through his chest. He heard something fall off a shelf nearby, and realized, as the roar in his ears began to subside, that his magic was making the bed shake.

The Dark Lord, a mere part of his sixteen-year-old self, had… he’d…

“Dad?” A soft hand touched his shoulder, “Are you –”

“Just…” Severus clutched at his face, forcing it all down down _down, “be still.”_

Now, Severus understand, and the conception of it took his breath away. He couldn’t possibly hold anything against her after all of this. The girl had paid her price, and then some. The _last_ thing the child needed was told be told how foolish she’d been, because she already _understood._ Ariel had been forced to watch as the consequences of her actions unfolded around her, helpless and bound.

It was… too much…

If Severus found that fucking diary, Riddle, future Dark Lord or not, was going to sincerely regret the day Ariel had written in her name down on the parchment.

“Dad?” Ariel asked again, quieter this time. Her forehead came to lean against his temple.

Severus pulled her close, her head coming to rest against his shoulder. He still didn’t trust himself to speak.

Neither of them said anything for a very long time. He couldn’t shove the pictures of her crumpling to the ground from his mind, the quiet desperation inside of her he hadn’t seen. If anyone had a right to be angry, it should have been _her,_ with _him._ How could he not have _known…_ his own child…

“Are you still angry?” Ariel asked, twisting her face up to look at him, “I thought… maybe showing you would help…”

“My anger doesn’t lie with you anymore.” Severus finally said, his voice surprisingly steady, “Stop asking me that.”

“Then why do you look so…” He could only begin to image his appearance right now.

“Because I didn’t _know,_ Ariel.” Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and fought off a wave of nausea, “I should have persisted when I still felt something wasn’t right. I _knew…_ you weren’t yourself, but I blamed it on your age. I thought you were going through… that your schoolwork was causing you stress, that you distanced yourself for a different reason… perhaps you’d realized that what I showed you last Christmas was beyond forgiveness. Riddle’s presence wouldn’t have shown up on Poppy’s Diagnostic when I made you go see her, but I… had a _feeling._ You needed me, and I wasn’t there.”

Hormones his arse. He was going to have a very long talk with Pomfrey about when he said there was something wrong with his daughter, _there was something fucking wrong with his daughter._

“It was my fault.” She said quietly, “You told me on my birthday that I was old enough for certain responsibilities… so _I’m_ taking responsibility for what I did.”

_You said you would keep her safe_  

He contemplated her words.

“I made a vow,” Severus’ eyes flickered to the family on the nightstand for the first time that night, “to keep _you_ safe, and I failed.”

“So did I.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, “Oh? To whom?”

“You,” Ariel squirmed uncomfortably, “I promised I’d tell you if anything weird happened this year, and I didn’t. Remember the day I went to Diagon Alley with Harry?”

Severus slowly nodded, “Ah, yes.”

“I’m sorry.” Ariel looked straight into his eyes, “For lying. For not telling you the second Riddle wrote back. For being so distant… and for h-hurting those….” She bit her lip hard, her face scrunching up in a way that told Severus she was about to start crying again.

“Look at me.” He tilted her face upwards when she forced her eyes back open, shining and hungry, “You are _not_ being held accountable for what happened to those students. It wasn’t _you_ acting of your own accord. You had absolutely no way of stopping him once he took control, Ariel.”

“But… I let him… I _wrote_ to him…”

“Did you _knowingly_ converse with him, knowing his plan was to ultimately possess you and harm Muggleborn students?”

“N-no, but that’s not the point…”

“Did you plot with him?”

“No –”

“Did you willingly engage him in the prejudiced views of Muggleborns and their backgrounds?”

“No, but –”

“But _nothing,_ Ariel.” Severus’ voice hardened, “You didn’t _want_ to do any of those things. You feel _remorse,_ you feel badly for the students who were Petrified, and _that_ is the difference between you and Riddle.”

The Dark Lord’s lies rang in his ears. Severus looked upon the girl, who was biting her lip and looking broken and torn to bits, and wondered why she’d believed him. Even if she was racked with guilt over unleashing Riddle, Ariel couldn’t _possibly…_ he’d _showed her_ his memories for this very reason.

It had never occurred to him that the same darkness could touch Ariel in such a way.

“Do you remember when you were little,” Severus began in a quiet voice, “and you used to ask me to make the dark go away when I’d put you to bed?”

Ariel nodded up at him again, a small smile twisting her lips.

“You would climb into my bed.” He mockingly scowled down at her, and the smallest hiccup of a laugh reached his ears, “At least, you did at first.”

“You would always say the same thing,” Ariel smirked, “that you would make it go away in the morning.”

“I swore it, every night.”

“And I would tell you that I couldn’t wait that long.”

Severus nodded in agreement, “You began to climb up onto the windowsill, and when I asked you why, you told me you were going to _make_ the sun rise. You’d fall asleep with your head against the glass, and I’d carry you back to bed at some ungodly hour because you were too stubborn to listen to me.”

Ariel smiled up at him, one that didn’t reach her eyes, but it faded as fast as it had come. Her eyes fell to her lap, “Why are you bringing that up? I haven’t done that in years.”

“Because,” He paused, “you showed me something. When you first told me what you were doing, I scoffed at you. I believe the word the Headmaster used was _endearing,_ but the first night you did it, you flew into my bedroom the next morning to tell me how _you_ had done it. I felt… I didn’t understand what it was. I thought jealousy, maybe…”

“Jealously?” She frowned, “Of what? That I could fall asleep in strange places?”

“That you _believed.”_ Severus took her face in his hands and held it there, “you _believed_ you could make the sun rise. You thought every morning when you woke up that _you_ had done that.”

“But… that was just some stupid thing any kid would say!”

“The legitimacy of it is not what I’m referencing to.” Severus shook his head, “You… _showed_ me something I didn’t think I had anymore. A part of myself _did_ envy you, because you sat at that window and told me the sun rose because you made it so. You gave me _light,_ Ariel, when I long thought it lost from this world. You woke up every morning looking forward to see what it brought with it, while I awoke looking to _you.”_

Ariel looked absolutely stunned. Her face lost a little bit of color, and for a split second, Severus was afraid she’d pass out. Dark eyes stared up at him, welling up with tears that shimmered in the early morning light, like diamonds, her bottom lip trembling terribly.

She flung her arms around his neck, her grip so tight that Severus could barely breath. But he didn’t fight it, because the burning in his lungs was much better than they burning in his heart, that raged against everyone and everything who had hurt the girl. Severus _needed_ her to know this, needed her to understand that concept, because if she didn’t, the Dark Lord would build and build upon that doubt. He’d done it with Severus in regards to Lily, and he would do it to Ariel.  

She unwrapped herself a short while later, settling back against his lap. Her fingers traced the outline of one of the buttons on his frock coat.

“Dad?”

“Yes?” He stroked her cheek with the pad of her thumb.

“Mum told me to tell you.” Ariel sighed, like this had been her mind for a very long time, “About Riddle, I mean. I had a dream about her. She was angry, she wanted me to tell you something… I didn’t realize… I figured it out by the time it was too late.”

It was said so softly, Severus wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly at first. His arms went stiff. His heartbeat quickened. His mouth ran dry.

“Why are you telling me this?” He asked, her words burning his heart like ropes of fire.

“Do you think Mum would forgive me?”

“Oh, child.” Severus groaned against the top of her head, “If your mother was alive, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“You don’t know that.” Ariel said quietly, “Tom Riddle would still have put a piece of himself into that diary, and someone still would have found it. She was so _mad_ at me… like she didn’t even want to _look at me…”_

“Your mother loved you and your brother more than anything, Ariel. It was only a dream. She would have forgiven you the second she knew. It wasn’t _you.”_

“She didn’t forgive _you.”_

Severus shouldn’t have shown her that memory. He’d regretted it ever since, hated how whenever Ariel spoke of Lily now, some of the admiration and irrevocable love had gone from her voice. He’d expected her to resent _him,_ he’d thrown the fucking slur for Merlin’s sake, but somehow, Lily’s righteous retort had touched her in a way Severus hadn’t even considered.

“You can’t compare yourself to me.” Severus said in a controlled voice, “You’re a child who was taken advantage of. I was… I was nowhere near being even _considered_ a victim. Your mother was the victim.”

_He’d killed her gotten her killed she’d warned him to stay away and look what he’d done to her his only child_

“You loved her a lot.” Ariel’s fingers wrapped around his.

“How could I not, when she gave me you?” The words flew out of his mouth. As he realized them, their worth, and how Ariel would understand them, Severus choked on the last letters, realizing what he’d just said – what the hell was he –

He couldn’t… find the strength to deny them, even inside himself.

Ariel twisted her body so that she was looking up at him, her mouth parted, and eyes –

There was

_light_

in them once more.

Her head fell into the space between his chin and chest, her body relaxed. She felt… _content._ Somewhere in the darkest recesses of his mind, Severus felt it too, but pushed it away, for he was not worthy.

“I should have stuffed Riddle’s diary down a toilet.” Ariel mumbled.

Severus snorted. “Is _that_ your idea of putting him in his place?”

“Well, Harry tried to set it on fire, but it didn’t work. I knew it wouldn’t, but it sure made Riddle mad.”

Severus hadn’t the heart, or the stomach, to tell her his true identity yet. Ariel needed more time to process and heal. He needed a strategy that didn’t push her back into darkness.

“Will you try and sleep now?” Severus asked her.

To his surprise, Ariel nodded against him, “Only if I can have the Dreamless Sleep.”

He could only imagine what her mind would hold without it. He shuddered mentally, images of her crumpling to the ground… crying out…

Severus wordlessly summoned a vial, handing it to her and watching her down the contents with one gulp. The circles under her eyes were deep, and reminded him of the mouth of a cave. He wondered when the last time the Dark Lord had let her sleep was.

“Is Harry okay?” She asked worriedly as he laid her down, “I… I almost killed him… gods…”

“Potter’s fine.” Severus smoothed back her hair, “He’s… very concerned about you.”

“I said some terrible things to him.” Her voice, even though it was already thick with sleep, trembled.

“He knows you’re not responsible. He’ll forgive you, Ariel.”

“Can I see him?”

“Not tomorrow,” Severus shook his head, “you both need rest. I’ll send for him as soon as Madam Pomfrey says you're stable enough.”

“What about the diary?” She breathed.

The lights in the room flickered, but the girl was far too tired to notice.

“We’ll talk about that when you wake again.” Severus told her.

“‘Kay.” She mumbled, “Keep an eye on Harry, okay?”

Severus nearly rolled his eyes, “I think we’re past that, Ariel.”

“Still…” Her eyelids slid shut, “I think you’re starting to warm up to each other.”


	47. Shadow of the Threat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry this chapter is a few hours behind – I wanted to do some editing and such and forgot to do that yesterday :P So yes! Double upload again, so go and read ch. 46 before this one if you haven’t already!
> 
> Tomorrow will be Part I of the finale – it’ll be a single upload, because I’m still putting the finishing touches on Part II. Mwahaha.

Harry sat in the Slytherin common room and wondered when leaving the dorm would no longer be considered “breaking curfew.”

It was almost six in the morning, the index containing Voldemort’s former name and a text on basilisks sitting on the couch cushions beside him. Harry hadn’t found anything specific on Tom Riddle, save everything he started when he’d _become_ Lord Voldemort, began the first war and murdered his parents.

The text on the basilisk had been annoyingly vague as well because no one could get an accurate description of _how_ the creature behaved or looked like since no one had ever _seen_ one. If a person, Muggle or wizard, looked at it, they’d automatically be Petrified, and the cure hadn’t been discovered up until a hundred years ago. By then, basilisks were near extinct.

Harry didn’t even know what he planned on doing if and when he found the diary. He just wanted to make sure Tom was out of the castle, destroyed even, because if he let his sister down again, Harry didn’t know what he was going to do.

He threw that basilisk book to the ground in frustration. How did Hermione put so much faith in books? They didn’t hold the answers to _everything._

Harry just wanted to go and see Ariel at this point, make sure she was alright. He’d hated to see her cower back in Dumbledore’s office, after he’d seen her stand up and be brave so many times before. She didn’t deserve Snape’s anger.

Speaking of Snape…

Harry grabbed the giant index and flipped to the section labeled _S._ There were a couple of Slytherins, actually, after the name Salazar. _That_ piqued Harry’s interest, but shook his head and promised himself he’d come back to them later, when Voldemort wasn’t running about the castle and possessing his sister. 

There were no other Snape’s, save Severus Snape, of course. Harry wondered if that meant he was a Muggleborn. There was nothing about him being part of the resistance against Voldemort, like his mum and dad, or other members listed in the book he’d grazed over as he’d flipped through. Nothing about weird masks, or that he’d known his mum – not that Harry had expected _that_ part to be in there.

_Snape, Severus; Second youngest wizard to achieve Potion’s Mastery, Gold Class. Youngest Head of House to be appointed at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Youngest Hogwarts professor to be hired to date at the age of twenty-one._

Nothing about the war or Voldemort. Nothing about him adopting his sister. Nothing about his mum.

Harry reached into his pocket, where he always kept the acorn. He lifted it in his hand, inspecting it in the murky green light that filtered through the common room windows. He honestly couldn’t explain why he’d grabbed it in the first place, why he still carried it around. Part of his mind gnawed at the idea that stealing, especially from _Snape,_ was very wrong and _very_ dangerous, but the other part of him waved it away and said that he surely wouldn’t have noticed something so inconsequential missing from his junk drawer.

If it had any meaning, it would have been in that trunk, along with the letters from his mum and the strange robes.

_This is wrong,_ Harry thought, shaking his head. He shouldn’t be worrying about Snape when his sister was far from alright. The light outside was growing brighter, which meant it must be past six at this point. Harry doubted Snape had slept – did he even sleep at all? He could hardly imagine _Snape_ sleeping if Harry hadn’t slept a wink. Part of him, the piece of him that searched through the books, had hoped he’d hear the basilisk once more and follow it, follow it straight to the diary. Maybe Snape was out searching for the diary now…

The night had been silent and unyielding, nonetheless.

Harry slammed the books closed and piled them onto the table in front of him. He hopped off the couch, quickly running up to his dormitory to grab his Invisibility Cloak. Draco was snoring next to Harry’s unoccupied bed, and he rolled his eyes. It seemed that even if he _had_ tried, sleep wouldn’t have found him either way.

Unbeknownst to him, someone was waiting for him when he returned to the Slytherin common room.

_“Going_ somewhere?”

Harry screeched to a halt when he caught sight of Damon sitting in the very spot he’d just been sitting in, flipping through the books he’d left there with a bored sort of look on his face.

“Yeah,” Harry replied, still annoyed with him for _not_ telling him about the Chamber in the first place, “I’m going to Petrify another Muggleborn. Want to come?”

Damon snorted, shutting the textbook with enough force that it’s echo cracked against the walls, “I’ll pass.”

Harry glared at him as Damon began to stand, and took a step towards the door.

“Are you really going to keep this up, Harry?” Damon sighed, suddenly looking defeated, “I’ve already told you how sorry I am for not telling you. What more do you and Ariel want?”

“Ariel?” He frowned, “What’s she got to do with this?”

Damon blinked, “She hasn’t spoken to me since! I assumed you told her, and that she’s just as mad, if not more. I know… I should have told the two of you… every time I go to talk to her, Ariel just ignores me like I’m not there and –”

“Let me guess,” Harry interrupted, “she writes in that diary.”

“Ariel keeps a _diary?”_ Damon’s eyebrows hit his forehead, “Is _that_ what it is?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Harry mumbled. _It did, Riddle was still out there…_

“What’s going on?” He frowned, suspicion leaking into his voice, “She hasn’t been showing up to meals. Is it just her avoiding me, or did something happen?”

Lucius’ threat.

Did he _know?_ He couldn’t, Harry thought with a jolt of guilt. Damon would never… he was Ariel’s best friend. He’d tried to warn her _away_ from Lucius that day in Diagon Alley. He wasn’t like Draco… and even if he was, he doubted _Draco_ would know _anything…_ no. It was impossible.

_“You will tell either Malfoy nothing of this.”_ Snape had said.

Harry couldn’t keep up this charade forever, he realized. Ariel wasn’t well, and Snape would probably barricade the dungeons in order to keep anything, whether it be the basilisk or Riddle himself, from getting in, or from keeping Ariel from getting _out._

It… wasn’t his place.

So why did it feel so terrible to lie, even if Harry was protecting his sister?

“She’s…” Harry swallowed, “sick. Really sick. She hasn’t been around because Snape’s been making her rest. I doubt she’ll be in class this week, or a while, anyway.”

Damon went pale, _“Sick?_ With what? Is she going to be okay?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? If Dumbledore and Snape didn’t find that diary… if _Harry_ didn’t…

His mouth went dry as he spoke, “Probably. Snape is –”

_“Probably?”_ Damon bleated, “What the hell is wrong with her?”

“She’s sick –”

“Yes, you’ve said that already!” He snapped, “With _what?”_

Harry’s mind went blank, and then, he said the first thing that came to mind, “Mono.”

Damon’s face went blank, “What the bloody hell is _that?”_

“It’s… a Muggle disease.” _Bad idea what the hell had he been thinking bad idea bad._

“How did she get a –”

“I don’t know, Damon, alright?” Harry threw his hands up in fake exasperation, “She just _did.”_

He stared at him, studying his face with an intimidating kind of intensity that paled compared to Snape’s, but was similar enough to make Harry’s insides twist a bit. His eyes were as bright a blue, just as piercing, as Dumbledore’s.

“This has something to do with my uncle.” Damon said in a very, very quiet voice, “Doesn’t it?”

“What?” Harry’s heart skipped a beat, “No! Damon, this isn’t –”

“You’re _lying_ to me!” He yelled, “What’s wrong with her, Harry?”

He composed his face to remain steady, calm, “She _is_ sick, Damon.”

Realization was creeping across Damon’s face quicker than a summer storm. It crackled, spasmed, “She wasn’t… Ariel wasn’t… _Petrified,_ was she?”

“No, Damon.” Harry sighed, wishing he could just throw on his cloak and disappear out the door.

“But it has something to do with the Chamber?”

Harry didn’t answer.

“You can’t get mad at me for knowing the _legend_ of the stupid Chamber and keep the _facts_ from me!” Damon’s fists balled at his sides, “Ariel is my best friend, and I deserve to know if something’s happened!”

“She’s fine.” Harry lied, “I mean… she’s really sick, but it has nothing to do with the Chamber.”

“Fine, don’t tell me!” Damon hissed, sending him a terrible look, “I’ll find out for myself!”

Before Harry could stop him, he flew from the room and up the flight of stairs that led to the boys’ dormitory. He rubbed at his face and told himself that if he wasn’t so tired, he’d have handled that better, or rather, he’d care more at the moment, but all he could think about was seeing Ariel and Snape and find out what was going on with her.

Damon could survive not knowing for now, because the truth was too much to bear with Riddle still about.

* * *

Severus watched Ariel sleep until her breathing was deep and even, her face still stained with tears and mouth slightly parted. She looked so much like Lily when she slept, though there was something sharper in her face that seemed to become more and more pronounced as Ariel grew. When she slept, however, his eyes were gone, and nothing but her mother remained.

He slowly stood, running one last lingering hand through her hair before he made his way towards the kitchen. Severus had no intentions of sleeping, but if he was going to continue keeping watch, he needed caffeine, and black coffee would do just that.

Severus hadn’t even taken two steps before he heard someone knocking on the door to his quarters.

He didn’t even have to guess – it was Potter. He could _feel_ his presence oozing into the room already – all the concern and worry and guilt that thrummed away in Severus’ chest shining in those emerald eyes.

Fate would not show him any mercy, it seemed.

Severus jerked open the door and looked down at the Potter boy with tired eyes, not even bothering to prepare a sneer. He was too beaten down for it, at this point. The boy stared up at him, to Severus’ confusion, with a similar darkness in his mother’s eyes, hunched over like something was pressing against his back.

He wordlessly stepped to the side to usher the child in, for once, thankful he had his father’s Invisibility Cloak. He jerked his head in the direction of the chairs in front of his desk, taking his place behind it.

Neither of them said anything for a long time. Potter sat in the chair, cloak folded in his lap, staring at the ground. If he started to cry again, Severus was growing to quit his job and take Ariel with him to Siberia.

“She’s asleep.” Severus finally told him, answering the question he could see in Potter’s posture, “I expect her to be out for quite some time.”

“You moved her from the hospital wing.” Potter looked up with accusing eyes, “I went there last night, and you were gone.”

“I didn’t want her out in the open.” Severus glared back, “Your sister needs privacy.”

“You _still_ could have told me.”

Severus bit the inside of his cheek, “And I _still_ wouldn’t have let you see her.”

“Why not?” Potter entire body straightened up.

“Do you really think she’s in any kind of normal state of mind right now?” He asked softly, anger just below the surface, enough to let the boy know Severus was in no mood to battle him over visiting rights until the girl was well.

Potter deflated, falling against the back of the chair, taking that in. And then, suddenly, his eyes flashed back to Severus, “You didn’t yell at her again, did you?”

There was such force in his words, such righteous conviction, that Severus almost marveled at it. But then it took his heart, which he had replaced with something unfeeling once more when Ariel had fallen asleep. Their conversation had been… unexpected.

“No, Potter.” Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, “I did not.”

“Ariel didn’t mean to –”

“I _know,_ Potter.” He snapped, _he knew he knew better than the boy did because he had seen her body crumble to the ground and felt her spirit fade._

“Good.” The boy seemed to sense his remorse, somehow, even though his persona gave nothing but exhaustion away.

They both went silent again. Potter fiddled with his robes, which were ruffled and seemed like he hadn’t changed out of them for some time. His hair wasn’t even passable anymore. Severus noticed he looked tired, but now, as Potter sat there, he saw just how troubled the boy was, and the mirror flashed to the forefront of his mind.

“Was… how was Ariel before she… y’know, fell asleep?”

She’d sobbed like her heart was breaking, and then her guilt had caused her to curl further into herself unto Severus had taken a piece of himself he didn’t allow anyone to see, coaxing her back, though she was far from whole.

He didn’t answer him, because Severus felt like he owed it to the boy to at least shield the boy from that.

“I would appreciate your cooperation in this.” Severus said tiredly instead, “I’m sure that come tomorrow, the school will have noticed that one half of the chosen one’s are absent, and they’ll be talk.”

“I wasn’t planning on telling anyone my sister was being controlled by Voldemort, if that’s what you mean.” Potter bristled a bit, obviously disgruntled his question hadn’t been answered.

Severus’ eyes flashed up to the boy in blatant shock. He couldn’t have… how the _hell_ did he…

“Where did you hear that?” He asked him sharply.

“Read it,” Potter crossed his arms defiantly, “in a book. I know what Slytherin’s monster is too.”

Of course he fucking had. Of _course_ he did. 

“It’s a basilisk.” Potter said.

Severus buried his face in his hands.

“I assume you researched that as well?” He muttered.

“Hermione did.”

He rubbed his face forcefully, “I should have guessed.”

“Damon asked before I came here.” Potter said quietly, “I told him Ariel was really sick with a Muggle disease.”

Severus looked up from his hands, “A _Muggle_ disease?”

“Well, I don’t know enough about wizard ones!” He snapped, “I remembered that a kid in my primary school got it once and we didn’t see him for little over a month!”

“Did you give it a name?”

“Mono, I think is what it’s called.”

Severus had no clue what that was, but reluctantly bowed his head, “That was… clever of you, Potter.”

He blinked back at Severus liked he’d sprouted a second head. It then occurred to him, in his state, that he’d unknowingly complimented him.

“Ariel… she won’t be sick for a month, will she?” The boy’s eyes looked up hopefully, once he’d recovered, “She’ll be fine now that Riddle isn’t controlling her, right?”

“Your sister needs to find her footing again.” Severus told him, “However long that takes, she’ll have the time. It could take a month; it could take _many_ months.”

“Oh.” Potter looked troubled. “So… what’s going to happen, then?”

“To whom are you referring?”

“Ariel… and Riddle too, I guess. The diary’s gone… could he have made it disappear?”

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s possible, yes. There’s no limits on abilities in regards to most forms of dark magic.”

“I should have grabbed it.” Potter said bitterly. “I was… I wanted to get her out of there… she looked like she was hurting real bad, and I knew you’d be around because of the newest victim…”

How could he not have heard them? How could he have not heard her screaming, heard the boy –

“I found this… when Professor Dumbledore took me to the bathroom.” He said quietly when Severus was unable to articulate words to reply to that. He reached into his robes and pulled out something familiar – the necklace Severus had given Ariel on her birthday. Potter reached forward and held his palm out, offering it to him.

There were scratches along the rims, like Ariel had been scraping away at it. She bit her nails when she was anxious… the Dark Lord would have found that bothersome, and far too telling, and so Ariel had probably found another way to channel –

Potter dropped in into his hand – it burned.

Severus still didn’t trust himself to speak, and so he deposited the necklace into his pocket. He’d see about getting it repaired before giving it back to Ariel. She didn’t need to look at the marks on it every day and remember where they came from.

“She’s the only family I’ve got left.” Potter said slowly, “And she's the only one you've got, right?”

Severus felt his nails dig into his knees. He gave the green-eyed thing an answering lip curl.

“So we’ve got to protect her.” The boy said, sending him a knowing look – like Severus didn't _know this already –_ annoying little urchin.

“Is that all?” Severus asked blandly. He needed coffee. Every nerve in his body felt like it was about to wither and die.

Potter scowled, and then he hopped of the chair and exited the room without a backgrounds glance

Severus blinked. And then again. And then –

_Wait._

He wasn’t –

He had _BETTER FUCKING NOT BE –_

Severus was suddenly _very_ awake.

_“POTTER!”_ Severus shouted, bolting from the room and hurtling down the corridor after the little monster. The boy hadn’t even gotten to the end of the corridor as Severus caught sight of him, stalking towards him with long strides.

“Potter, if you go after that diary,” Severus panted, grabbing the front of the boy’s robes, _“so help me –”_

“Well, Riddle can’t just get away with this!” He argued back.

_“Potter…”_ Severus warned.

“Someone took that diary!” Potter said, like his logic was the most obvious thing in the world, “What if they come for her under Riddle’s control?”

His daughter and her brother had a hero complex. As if _one_ wasn’t fucking enough –

_“First_ of all,” Severus pulled the boy closer, “the Headmaster is searching the school, and the Head of House’s are searching dormitories for signs of it. I will be doing an investigation, though I don’t think it’s likely a Slytherin was the culprit. I have the entrance warded so I know if any of you little dunderheads leave after curfew.”

Potter’s face went white at this.

_“Secondly,_ you will stand little to no chance against a basilisk, or Riddle himself, should he possess another host. So _tell me,_ Mr Potter, what is it you could possibly do that Professor Dumbledore or myself can’t that would further protect your sister, or rid the school of the Dark Lord?”

“I just want to find the diary.” He said, toeing the ground, “I just want to find it.”

He wasn’t the only one.

“Cease and desist your efforts.” Severus said flatly, “Or I will _make_ you. Do you understand me, boy? This isn’t some kind of scavenger hunt. That diary holds powerful, _dark_ magic that your puny mind can’t even begin to _fathom._ If the Dark Lord is still conscious, whatever form he’s in, and he realizes it is you handling his diary, he will exercise his control to his fullest capabilities.”

“He _hurt_ her!” Potter looked up at him with watery eyes, “I… he can’t get away with it.”

“He won’t.” Severus growled, feeling that vow burn in his veins, “You think you’re the only one who wants to see the blasted thing destroyed? Did you not just point out to me that Ariel is just as important to me as she is to you?” He grabbed the cloak Potter had dropped and shoved it at him, “Go back to your dormitory and _stay there,_ and I swear to Merlin, Potter, if I hear about you gallivanting around the school trying to be the Gryffindor your sister is, I will see to it that you never see the outside of these dungeons.”

Potter gave him a withering glare, but the sentiment was the threat seemed to be understood.

Though, Severus could never be sure. The boy _was_ a Potter, after all. He gave a sharp jerk of his head in the direction of the dormitories, Potter’s head bent low, and with that, Severus hurried back to his quarters and made a beeline to Ariel’s bedroom.

He opened the door finding Ariel in the same exact position she was in when he’d left her. Severus sat down beside her, letting his hand drift through her hair and watching the rise and fall of her chest.

_“Will she be okay?”_ Potter’s eyes had screamed at him.

Severus would see to it that she would be. Was. Would be once more. He wouldn’t lose her to the darkness he hid in himself. The sun would continue to rise.

He sighed, pressing his lips to the top of her head before making his exit.

And then Ariel moaned, causing Severus to turn and look back her from the doorway. Her face scrunched together, like she was concentrating on something.

Her mouth opened, and a single whisper of a long hiss came from her mouth. It was the same syllable, over and over again.

Severus shut the door, falling against it. He hands tangled in his hair as he kneaded it, finding the darkness inside and relish it, for there, there was nothing but dark. Haven. Safety.

He lifted his eyes to find the picture of Lily on the mantle watching him with sympathetic eyes. The same ones Potter had left him with.

“What am I to do?” Severus asked her.

* * *

The first thing Ariel noticed when she awoke was that she felt warm. She’d wrapped herself so securely in her comforter that it actually took her a minute to de-tangle her legs and sit up properly. Her body felt achy in her joints, and her head felt like it was about to fall off her shoulders, but her chest felt lighter.

It was so dark that it took Ariel’s eyes a moment or two to adjust, though she could see a light from underneath her door, meaning that her father was awake.

She sat up in bed and tried to focus as the memories sorted themselves out. She felt… calm, perhaps, was the right word. But in her mind, there was a beautiful emptiness that Tom had inhabited, and without him there, it felt like there was so much extra space.

Ariel realized, with a twisted smile, that space was meant for _her_ again.

She was far from alright, but something about that comforted her.

The first moments of her freedom from Tom hadn’t been… _good._ Ariel shuddered as the feel of the hot shower came back to her as she’d sat there, fully clothed, shaking and broken. In that moment, she’d wanted nothing more to just relish that feeling of warmth again, but then her father had pulled back the curtain –

A lump formed in her throat. Severus had sat with her all night…

He’d said he’d loved her… in his own way. How else was she supposed to decode _‘she gave me you’?_ Ariel tried to translate it to English from Severus-Speech but… she didn’t she had to. She’d set a bloody monster on the school and he said he loved her. Severus didn’t say things like that. He didn’t tell her she precious or give her a degree of a scale of how much he loved her or tell her memories of when she’d been little…

Her chest now felt like it would surely burst, and with that, she hopped out of bed and slowly opened the door. Ariel peeked out of the doorway to find her father at his desk, massaging his temple forcefully.

He was stressed. _She’d_ done that.

“Hi,” She whispered, and his head jerked up.

“You’ve emerged.” Her father said, relief mingled with exhaustion. It was etched into every line on his face.

Ariel blinked back at him from the doorway, “Have I been out for that long?”

He nodded, “Two days, to be exact. You needed it, though.”

“I feel… better.” She admitted, slowly approaching his desk, “More like myself.”

“That’s a good sign.” Her father agreed, though the shadows under his eyes said anything but. He stood and wordlessly disappeared into his private potion stores, returning with what looked like a Nutrition Potion.

Ariel made a face, “Is that what you gave me the other day? It’s horrid.”

“You haven’t eaten.” He handed it to her, “Unless, of course, you’d like me to send for food…”

Her stomach gave a loud rumbling in response. She blushed.

Severus raised an eyebrow, “Is that a yes?”

“Please.” Ariel nodded. Her father put a hand on her shoulder and guided her to the kitchen table.

He tapped the countertop, and a plate of sandwiches appeared. Her stomach groaned in agreement. Tom hadn’t let her eat much, mostly because he found it bothersome, but she’d also figured it was to keep her weak. She didn’t dare mention that to her father, who took a seat across from her.

Ariel wolfed down the first one sandwich, barely tasting it. She didn’t even know what was on the bread.

“Slow down,” Her father frowned, “or you’re going to choke.”

She rolled her eyes and reached for a second, “Wouldn’t that be grand? I survive Riddle, but I’m done in by a sandwich.”

His lips twitched, but the amusement didn’t reach anywhere near his eyes. They were still dark, intense, and watching her like Ariel might burst into flames any moment.

“Aren’t you hungry?” She gestured to the plate, now on her third.

Her father raised an eyebrow, “There might not be any left by the time you’re through.”

“I’m not going to eat _all_ of these, Dad.” Ariel eyed the plate, thinking that she actually _really_ wanted to – probably _could._

“I’m fine.” He shook his head, “I’ve already eaten.”

“Okay.” She shrugged, shoving the rest of the food into her mouth.

They sat in companionable silence. Severus watched her eat, his hands folded tightly on the tabletop as Ariel munched away. She got through six sandwiches before she started to feel full, reaching for yet another. She looked around the room, noticing that the sky outside was dark.

“What time is it?” Ariel asked quietly, picking the crust off of the current sandwich.

“A little before midnight.”

“Aren’t you tired?” She quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Not particularly.”

“You look it.”

He gave her that look that said “ _stop worrying about me and start worrying about yourself.”_

“Have people been asking yet?” Ariel asked, setting the sandwich down. Her stomach felt like it’d grown twice in size.

“Your brother stopped by two nights ago.” Severus leaned forward and folded his hands atop the table, “I asked him to dispel any rumors, should any of the students ask.”

“You’re not going to tell them it was me?” She frowned, “They deserve… Colin and the other victim…” She asked him who it was with her eyes.

“Justin Flint-Fletchy.” Severus said to the tabletop, “They’ll be fine as soon as Sprout says her mandrake roots are ready.”

Her sandwiches were trying to make their way back up her throat, “The school should still know who it was that did it to them.”

He looked up, his face stone cold, “You want them to know it was a deranged boy in a talking diary?”

“No, tell them it was –”

“It _wasn’t_ you!” Her father snapped, “I don’t want to hear you say it again, Ariel, do you hear me? It was _him!”_

“But –”

“No more talk of this.” He waved her words away with a sharp gesture, “You asked if the school knew you were missing, and the answer is no, for the moment. I’m sure the only people who’ve noticed your absence are your little friends.”

Ariel bit her lip, feeling his anger squeeze her heart, “What’s Harry going to tell people?”

“He’s been telling anyone who asks that you’ve contracted some Muggle disease called mono.”

She made a face, “What’s _that?”_

“I don’t pretend to know the origins of Muggle illness.” Severus made an _I don’t know_ movement with his hands, “He told me it’s serious enough that you being absent for a month wouldn’t raise questions.”

“A _month?”_ Ariel’s jaw dropped, “I… I can’t miss a _month!_ I’ll fall too far behind! I’ll never catch up!”

“That hardly matters when your health is questionable.” He reached forward and ran his hand through her hair, “Professor McGonagall, the Headmaster, and I will sit down with you when the time comes to discuss your academic standings. I won’t let this hinder your success, child, don’t worry.”

“But… I… I’ll never catch up in time!” She felt throat begin to ache, fighting back tears of frustration, “I can’t just _not_ go to classes for an entire month!”

“I’ll be tutoring you.” Severus said quietly, “You’ll stay here while you recuperate.”

_“Tutoring me?_ But _you_ have classes!”

“Not for the next month, I don’t. I spoke with Professor Dumbledore while you were asleep, and we both agreed that I’d take a leave of absence until you’re well and the castle is safe again.”

Ariel stared up at him, speechless. When she finally found her voice, it was thick, “B-but… who’s going to teach, then? You can’t just give up your _job_ for me!”

“It’s only temporary.” Her father soothed, cupping her cheek with his hand, “I’ve given the Headmaster my lesson plans with instructions. I’m sure the little dunderheads could use some review, and Dumbledore is more than capable of making sure they don’t blow each other up.”

“People will…” Her head spun, “They’ll talk! Didn’t you say you had to keep your cover? I’m sure the Slytherins will catch on pretty quick if you go missing when I do!”

Severus’ face darkened suddenly, his hand falling from her face, “I have a plan to dispel any rumors regarding myself, don’t worry.”

“What is it?”

His eyes narrowed, “None of your concern. _Your_ job is to get better.”

Ariel bowed her head, “You don’t have to do this, Dad. I’ll be fine… really. You don’t need to pull so many strings…”

“You’re not some inconvenience, Ariel.” Her father sighed, “You’re my child, and it’s my job to _make sure_ you’re more than _fine.”_

“Colin and Justin aren’t fine.” She said softly.

Severus sighed, something in it so great and heavy that it hit the ground and reverberated.

“Ariel,” He said as her vision blurred, “look at me, child.”

She met his gaze, finding that it was calm and cool, not as it had been when he’d looked down at her two nights ago, but urgent, but with a hint of uncertainty.

“There’s something you need to know,” Her father said, wiping away her tears, “about Riddle.”

Ariel’s throat constricted automatically, like Tom’s hands were wrapping themselves around her neck again.

“He grew up to be someone you know.” Severus told her, but it sounded like he was far away, “You cannot blame yourself for not knowing, for there were witches and wizards far older than you that he deceived. A child stands no chance against him.”

She looked back at him, her face clouding over in confusion. He moved closer to her.

“He grew up to be a man that took away entire generation, killed those that did not obey and recruited those who feared him, who craved a similar power.” Her father’s eyes turned into tunnels, “I was the latter. You are not the only victim, Ariel, though I myself hardly count as one.”

Her heart, barely beating, stopped.

It wasn’t… it was… he’d been…

_“My work, renewed.”_ The back of Quirrell’s head had said in her dream.

The look on her father’s face told Ariel that she was right.

There was a deafening roaring in her ears as Ariel blankly looked back at him. A great chasm seemed to rip open inside of her, and all of the darkness began to leak out, pulling all the light inside of it. The world spun —

She was suddenly looking up at her father. Disoriented, Ariel blinked a couple of times, finding that she was lying on the couch, her head in his lap.

“You’re alright,” Severus was murmuring, “I’ve got you.”

Ariel felt her breath hitch, but no tears stung at her eyes. She felt empty, nothing left within her to cry or scream. Tom had taken some of that when he’d been with her, and then she’d released the rest when she’d broken free and wept.

Her father’s hand stroked her face, and Ariel lifted her eyes to him.

“What happened?” She rasped.

“You passed out.” Severus said softly.

“Oh.” Ariel mumbled, not knowing what else to say, “Sorry.”

They both went very quiet.

Ariel sat up, leaning against the arm of the couch and away from him so that he would not see the emotions that seemed to be battling it out across her face. Her chest ached in a way that told her she could not cry anymore.

“I fucked up your spy duties.” She said, a little light igniting in her chest at this, “Or whatever you and the Headmaster had planned.”

“Language!” He gave her a strongly disapproving look, “And no, you didn't. The piece of the Dark Lord concealed was a version of his sixteen-year-old self. If we can locate it and destroy it before he becomes too powerful, he’ll have no memory of this.”

The light went out. “Oh… well, that’s good, I guess.”

_(If she could have messed one thing up, it would have been that)_

When she looked back at him, he was massaging his temple.

“Ariel…” He began.

“How did _he_ get inside that diary?” Ariel interrupted, the emptiness in her head suddenly too much for her to bear, “Did _he_ do it _himself?”_

“Yes,” Severus said quietly, “he did, most likely with a kind of dark magic I can’t even begin to comprehend.”

“So he…” She nearly choked on her own words, “he did this before?”

“He took it a step farther and killed a student here when he was one himself.” Her father said, reaching for her, but his touch hurt because she was so _stupid stupid stupid the boy the man who had killed her mum and James —_

“How do _you_ know all this?” Ariel demanded, wringing her hands in her nightgown — when had she changed? She hated wearing nightgowns, the part of her brain that was not the emptiness reminded her.

“The Headmaster and I spoke while you were asleep.”

At the mention of Dumbledore, Ariel felt a wave of fresh shame. He must be so disappointed in her… she’d heard the whispers of people thinking it was _Harry_ (Tom had laughed and laughed and laughed) and wanted to scream at them that it wasn’t her little brother and could only imagine what those close to hear must think knowing _Ariel,_ (she’s just like her mother), _Ariel,_ (she gave me you), _Ariel,_ (you’ll grow up to be an exceptional witch, top of your class just like Lily)...

He hadn’t mentioned how they’d come to destroy it. Ariel looked back up to her father, who was watching her with a type of pity that made her want to hit him, nothing but helplessness in them, like he could nothing when he’d already done so much by simply _forgiving her._

“You didn’t find the diary, did you?” She asked in a hoarse whisper, “He got away.”

He didn’t answer, and that was all she needed.

Her face fell into her hands, but she did not cry.

“Ariel…” Her father was saying her name over and over, she realized, and then, her face was buried against him instead of her hands.

“I _hate_ him.” Ariel whispered, to her father or to make it known aloud, she did not know. He’d left her with this… this void and she didn’t know how to fill it again, if she could, because he’d taken from her and not given it back.

_Dad, Mum, Harry, James…_

Her father held her chin with his fingers until she looked up at him, and when she did, Ariel found the same thing burning in his eyes. They were coals, piping hot and scorching.

“I will make sure he is no more.” He said to her, “I promise you that. He won’t hurt you again.”

He couldn’t promise her that, could he? Voldemort wasn’t the boy in the book. He was the face on the back of Quirrell’s head, the man who had killed her mother and father, the nameless force that had sparked a war years and years ago. Severus couldn’t stop _him,_ and that was all Ariel could see now.

“I want to see Harry.” Ariel said as he released her from his hold, “Please.”

Her father gave her a long, calculating look, like he wasn’t alright with the talk of Voldemort being over just yet, “Tonight, I’ll bring him, if you are well.”

She was far from alright, but for now, it was enough.

* * *

“I think Professor Snape is right.” Hermione was saying, though Harry didn’t hear her as he flipped through his transfiguration essay, not really proofreading like he’d been trying to for the past half an hour.

It was _that_ he was right that upset Harry so much. There wasn’t anything _anyone_ could do. He couldn’t talk to Damon and ask what else he knew, he couldn’t go looking for diary that shouldn’t have gone missing in the first place, and he hadn’t a clue where the Chamber of Secrets lay.

“Someone else took that diary.” Harry told her seriously, “And if Riddle does to them what he did to Ariel… Hermione, he’ll go after her! You _must_ realize that!”

“You think that he could get past Snape’s defenses?” Ron rolled his eyes, “I’m sure he and Dumbledore know that too, Harry, and you can’t pull one over on the Headmaster.”

“Ariel was being controlled by him for _three months_ and neither of them noticed!” Harry snapped.

_“Mr_ Potter.” A deep, baritone voice said from behind him, making the hair rise on the back of his neck.

The three of them whirled around to find Snape standing only a couple of feet behind their table, arms crossed and glaring.

“Your sister is asking for you.” He told him in a much softer tone.

Harry’s leaped up to his throat. He turned back to Ron and Hermione, who gestured for him to go urgently. He quickly grabbed his cloak and books, and followed Snape out of the library and down the corridor to the dungeons.

“How is she?” Harry asked once they hit the staircase.

“Better.” Snape told him, sounding like Ariel was anything but, “She’s been asleep all this time, if you’re wondering why I did not fetch you sooner.”

“I had figured.” Harry said quietly, “Madam Pomfrey said Riddle made her really weak.”

“There will be no talk of him.” Snape turned on his heel, Harry pressed up against the stone wall just before the entrance to the Slytherin common room, “Nothing about Riddle or the Chamber or the monster that inhabits it. Am I understood?”

“I wasn’t planning on making it the topic of conversation, sir.” He said evenly.

“Good.” said Snape. “She’s heard enough of it to last a lifetime. Leave it be, for now.”

Harry nodded, and they started back on the path towards the potion master’s quarters in total silence, Harry quietly seething. He hated how much Snape could dictate Ariel’s life and whether or not Harry got to see her, especially right now. He’d understood it, but now, reasoning aside, all he wanted was to see his sister and talk to her and _make sure she was bloody okay because he’d been the one to find her._

Snape gave him another stern, commanding look as he held open the door to Harry, who stifled the urge to stick his tongue out at him, and strutted inside. There was a roaring fire in the hearth, and a flash of red reflecting off the light they gave off.

She was sitting on the couch, her head bent low over a book. Harry went a bit cold at the sight, a haunting image of her hunched from the very same spot, except with the diary, her hands flying across the pages.

Ariel looked up at him as he approached, her mouth parted, but then it clamped shut, and her eyes fell to her lap, shame very apparent. Her lip trembled.

Harry suddenly realized he didn’t need words.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered.

He grabbed her hand like he had in the girl’s bathroom, and held on tighter than he had then.

* * *

Two months passed, and from Severus’ quarters at Hogwarts, time seemed to stop.

Ariel slept the first week or so, on and off. The boy came every night and stayed, even if his sister wasn’t awake. Potter rarely spoke to him, for there was nothing to speak _of._ The diary was still missing, and, spawn of James Potter or not, Severus found himself feeling better with Potter here, where Severus could watch him, instead of worrying that he was breaking curfew and looking for the Dark Lord’s diary. Dumbledore and the rest of the staff hadn’t been able to locate it – what would be the boy find, save the danger, the same kind that had found him and Ariel last year?

When Ariel _was_ awake when Potter came, they’d sit in her room or in front of the fire and talk quietly, of what, Severus could only grab bits and pieces, but he never heard anything about Riddle or the Dark Lord or the Chamber. The tension enveloping the school seemed to have subsided with no more attacks from what Potter told Ariel – students were once again looking at him without fear, and Malfoy was becoming bolder in his jibes against Potter again.

It was a routine Severus had come to expect as the days and weeks passed. Ariel had begun to drink coffee, which he was alarmed to find one morning, immediately grabbing the mug and dumping the remnants down the sink with a startled cry from his daughter. The last thing Severus had wanted to see was her become like him – utterly and completely dependent on it to function. But of course, Ariel had retaliated, and began to rise in the mornings before he did so that she could brew some without him being able to stop her. It only made sense for Severus to start warding her bedroom to alert him to when she awoke, so that he could fling himself out of his bed to get to the kitchen first.

And then, Ariel started brewing while he was in the shower, and Severus had surrendered. Once she saw how terrifying the dependence on it would become, she’d regret it.

Dumbledore stopped by daily with reports of his classes, not that Severus cared, and in return, he gave the Headmaster assignments he wrote up himself. The old man knew potions about as well as Severus did –  he _had_ discovered twelve uses for dragon’s blood, after all. He always had a kind word for Ariel, who never looked him in the eye, but smiled in what was undoubtedly appreciation. Dumbledore was the only other person Ariel saw, save Potter.

Severus tutored her on a consistent timetable, with notes from the professors Dumbledore had gathered and his own knowledge on the subject. Ariel proved to be adept at Potions, like she always had, as well as Charms and Runes, but struggled in areas when it came to Transfiguration and Arithmancy. Defense, however, Severus had smugly realized, would be under _his_ control. He’d thrown Lockhart's notes into the fireplace the second he’d received them and taught Ariel from his _own_ notes, should Dumbledore stop being ridiculous and give him the position.

Ariel had seemed intrigued the moment they’d started, even if he spent the time lecturing and performing examples instead of _her_ actually doing anything. That had been the case the first several weeks, for Poppy had told Severus that any performance of magic, until her core had fully recovered, should be limited. Potter had volunteered to come and help, and it had turned into a private tutoring of sorts. He’d insisted on still coming even after Poppy gave her approve for Ariel to start performing magic again, since Lockhart had yet to teach, and the boy seemed eager to learn.

Lockhart had graced them with his presence two weeks into Ariel’s “illness.”

“I’ve come to inquire about your ward.” The moron had tried to peek past Severus’ frame, which was blocking his view, into his quarters.

“How kind.” Severus sneered, “I am, however, inclined to point out, that it is none of your business.”

Lockhart frowned at his rudeness, “Now, now, Severus I’m only trying to show some support for the girl. I’m being away from her classes and friends mustn't be easy. Unless of course, Miss Potter _wants_ to be away.”

Severus’ hand gripped the doorknob so tightly it left a dent, “And _why_ would she want that?”

He’d then insinuated that Ariel’s absence was due to her being intimidated by his fame, and that had been the last straw. Severus Hexed him down the corridor with a brilliant bolt of scarlet, slammed the door, to find Ariel standing right behind him with a hand covering a smile.

Dumbledore, of course, had paid them a visit later that night and given Severus a scolding that seemed rather half-hearted. Ariel had watched from the couch, amused and hiding her smile in a book on potions Severus had taken down from his warded shelves that he’d decided was appropriate. The old codger had said that if Severus ever did something like that again, he’d have to suspend him without pay for a week or so. Severus had simply snorted and said it would be worth it, but then the Headmaster had pointed out that Lockhart would be compensated, and there was no more talk on the matter.

Needless to say, Lockhart did not come around again.

A glimpse of a smile was enough to almost make Severus want to do it again.

It was little things that reminded him Ariel was still healing some days. Severus would watch her before she wrote on anything – parchment, in a notebook, scribbling down notes in her textbooks – and found that Ariel would stare at it, like she was expecting something, and then, slowly dip her quill in the ink. A single drop would land on the page, and she’d watch it, staring at it as it dried for several seconds. When nothing happened, when no one words magically materialized on the page, only then would Ariel go about her work.

The first few weeks, he’d awoken in his bed to find her beside him, fast asleep. As a child, Severus hadn’t tolerated her finding refuge with him in the middle of the night. If he’d woken up to find her in his bed, he’d always carried her back to her own, careful not to wake her. But under the current circumstances, he didn’t have the strength to do so and risk waking her. Severus hadn’t the heart anymore. It didn’t matter either way, for when he awoke the next morning, Ariel would be gone, either fast asleep in her own bed once more or already awake.

They never spoke of it, like it was an unspoken understanding.

The nights he gave her Dreamless Sleep, Ariel slept soundly, but the nights Severus did not, he stayed with her until she awoke. She usually had nightmares more than once, though he’d begun the Occlusion lessons before bed with her once more. They proved to be helpful in controlling her thoughts when she slept, as well as when she was awake. The more they practiced, the better Ariel seemed. The blush returned to her cheeks. She laughed and teased more. The first time since Ariel had broken free and Severus heard her and Potter break into raucous laughter, he’d nearly smiled.

But only nearly, for Dark Lord never let those he set his sights on get away, and with that thought at the back of his mind, Severus knew that this would not last.


	48. These Ties That Bind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Alright, friends -- I hope you enjoy it, and please, review! Xx

Hermione peeped out the window of her dormitory, looking out across the vast expanse from high above in her spot in Gryffindor Tower. The ground was bare, which was peculiar, seeing as last February, Hogwarts had been buried in mounds of snow that didn’t melt until early April. The grass, withered and brown, lay across the barren earth that was as fruitless as her and her friend’s labors to find You-Know-Who’s diary had been.

She hadn’t seen a point to it, even though every fiber of her being had wanted to help. Harry was her best friend, and even though Hermione knew Ariel didn’t like her much, there was still a part of her that felt like she _needed_ to do this, as long as Harry wanted to, anyway. There was no trace of the diary anywhere – not even Moaning Myrtle had been able to help them out as she screeched and hollered about the girl’s loo.

Ariel wasn’t really like any of the other girls in Gryffindor. For one thing, she didn’t seem to _like_ them, which Hermione suspected was a large part of why she hadn’t many friends, and why she never spent much time up here. When Harry had told her and Ron about Ariel being controlled by the Heir, she’d immediately racked her brain for anything that should have been a warning sign. Hermione wasn’t close to Ariel, no, but her absence hadn’t been… all that odd, really. She’d never really spent much time in Gryffindor Tower, ever. Last year, Ariel had played Ron a couple of times in wizard’s chess – she was friendly with Fred and George, but never talked to anyone else in her year.

Ariel wasn’t mean or nasty or anything to give anyone in Gryffindor a reason _not_ to like her. If anything, she was this accepted presence, a _“hey, Potter”_ here and there. Ariel just didn’t seem to fit _in_ with the girls, much like Hermione didn’t. She hated to admit it, but Ron was the only person she could stand to be around for a prolonged period of time (some days) without wanting to rip out her hair. Sally and Katie were on the Quidditch team, the other two girls in Ariel’s years’ names beyond Hermione’s ability to care what they were or weren’t right now. And _then_ there was Lavender and Parvati, who talked about _boys_ and _makeup_ and _oh, Hermione, why don’t you do something about that hair and those bags under your eyes?_

Hermione heard the other third years talking about Ariel… she’d thought that maybe, that would be enough to make her and Hermione friends. They were both unpopular among the girls – Ariel because she was so cold without seeming to realize it, and Hermione, because of the way she looked. It drove her mad, sometimes. Lavender and Parvati went on and on about Hermione’s hair and how she should really put concealer under her eyes. She’d _tried_ so badly, without compromising _herself –_ she tried to be nice and control her temper, and for the most part, she did. Lavender and Parvati had just never seemed interested… their niche was already filled.

Ariel had the looks, but didn’t have the right attitude. Hermione wondered if she noticed how some of the boys stared at her, how jealous Katie and Sally were, and how badly Hermione would’ve liked someone to look at her like that…

Well, maybe Ariel had the right idea, staying away, but perhaps she’d come to the indirect conclusion Hermione was like them too.

Or maybe she just _really_ didn’t like _her_. Either thought made Hermione want to try harder once Professor Snape, who, to her, as a father figure seemed about as plausible as making Hagrid a nanny, thought Ariel was healthy enough to resume classes. Perhaps _that_ was why Ariel was so cold towards everyone without realizing, though she was inclined to believe the former. Hermione wondered that, despite the fact that Harry was a good person, Snape’s cold demeanor had rubbed off on Ariel, somehow. She certainly never seemed to notice it… but then again, neither did Harry. She’d figured he must see a different side to her, since Ariel hated her.

Hermione was glad for the moment of peace, swinging her legs down from the ledge of her window and grabbed her cloak. She was going to meet Harry at noon for tea with Hagrid, and then perhaps go and watch his Quidditch practice with Ron, who, despite the fact that Harry was in Slytherin, never passed up anything broom-related.

She walked down to the Gryffindor common room, a hearty glow and warmth radiating from the fireplace. It wasn't as crowded as it usually was today, only a strangler here and there. Hermione passed Ginny on the staircase, who seemed like she was fighting back tears. Hermione immediately suspected Fred and George again, who’d been teasing her mercilessly all year. If she’d been around more, instead of diary-hunting with Harry and Ron, she’d figured that she would have given the twins more than a piece of her mind by now. She’d heard Ginny crying at night from her dorm. Hermione had assumed that the new environment, coupled with homesickness and her brother’s never-ending teasing had poor Ginny a mess these days. She felt a twinge of guilt, and wondered if she should go after her, but resigned herself to take a piece of advice Ariel had given her many a time, and mind her own business.

Sighing, Hermione grabbed her cloak, which she’d thrown over one of the couches earlier while helping Ron with an essay, when something caught her eye on the coffee table by the fire.

It was the black diary.

Hermione’s heart leaped straight up to her throat, and through the ceiling. She blinked a couple of times, waiting it to be some kind of illusion that would surely shatter, but clear as day, there it was.

It… it _couldn’t_ be… _who_ would…

She whirled around, scanning the incredibly thin crowd to see whom it could belong to. No one was _near_ it… there was no one sitting by the couches… had someone _left_ it there? Who would just leave something like that lying out, though? If You-Know-Who was still in that diary, he’d no doubt be talking to whoever used it… unless…

Hermione turned to snatch it, her hands dropping to her sides. She let out a startled cry.

It was _gone –_

 _“Diaries don’t just get up and walk away!”_ Harry had said. Now, Hermione was beginning to question that statement. Her eyes darted to the portrait hole – no one was leaving, which meant that they must –

Hermione spun back to the dormitory staircase, catching the ends of robes on the girl’s.

Propelled to grab that diary and make sure it did no more harm, Hermione bolted after the culprit, catching them flying into the first year’s dorm. The door slammed with far too much force than necessary, the vibrations reverberating under the floorboards. Hermione’s hands shook, but she barely noticed as she gripped the doorknob and silently crept inside.

It was…

“Ginny?” Hermione called quietly, unable to keep the tremor out of her voice.

She was sitting in the center of the room with her back to the door, cross legged. The fire bounced off her hair, making it look as dark as bronze.

“Ginny?” Hermione called again.

“What is it?” Ginny snapped harshly, “I’m busy!”

“Ginny…” Hermione said in carefully dictated voice, “Where did you get that?”

“Found it.” Ginny replied in a funny sort of voice, “in the girl’s loo. Why do you care?”

Hermione swallowed and took a bold step forward, “It’s just… well, Ariel had a diary like that a month or two ago… when all that scary stuff with the Chamber was still happening. Do you remember?”

There was a pause, “How could I forget?”

“Ginny…”

“Why do you keep saying my name?” Her voice was high, as if it would surely crack in two, “It’s me, isn’t it?”

“O-of course!” Hermione cursed herself for stuttering, “But I –”

“Why do you sound like that, Hermione?” Ginny asked, finally turning around, “Is something the matter?”

She suddenly knew why Harry had looked like he’d watched someone die when he’d told them about Ariel. The tension in the air was palpable, something sinister stirring underneath that told Hermione if she made a wrong move, this wouldn’t end well.

It didn’t seem fated to end _good,_ either.

“I’m just tired, I guess.” Hermione lied, steadying her voice, puffing out her chest, “And worried about you. I saw you crying on the stairs.”

“Oh, Hermione.” Ginny, or _Not-_ Ginny practically sang, “Oh, Hermione, Hermione, Hermione…”

She swallowed audibly, “What is it?”

“You're too nosy for your own good.” Not-Ginny finally turned, a lopsided grin on her face that made it look like she was baring her teeth, “Do you know that, Hermione?”

Her heart beat fast and furiously, ice shooting through her veins.

_Enemies of the heir,_

“So I’ve been told.” said Hermione.

_beware_

“You should really mind your own business.” Not-Ginny said in a falsely-sweet voice. She stood up and began to walk towards Hermione, who stood her ground.

Not-Ginny was clutching the black diary tightly to her chest.

“And what kind of friend what I be,” Hermione said back evenly, “if I did that?”

Ginny, or at least, her body, stopped uncomfortably close to her. Her eyes, though the light was dim, were rust-red, darker than her carrot-colored hair. They looked like blood in water. Up close, Ginny’s face almost looked like it was melting off, but when Hermione looked closely, she realized Ginny was _crying._

“Mudbloods,” Not-Ginny said softly, “don’t have friends.”

She pushed passed Hermione then, her hair whipping her face. It felt like sharp straw, so much so that Hermione was sure it would leave scratches. She raised a hand to her face, where Ginny’s hair had grazed her cheek.

It was wet. She was crying.

Hermione stood there for a very long time.

That had been…

 _No!_ A voice in her head shouted, _you have to tell Harry! You have to get Professor Snape! There’s no time for this! Ginny needs you!_

Hermione blinked and wiped at her face. She couldn’t do anything for Ginny unless the professors knew, not to mention that as long as Riddle was possessing her, Ariel and Harry were in terrible trouble. She had to get to the dungeons and tell Professor Snape… she had to…

The dungeons were a very long way from Gryffindor Tower.

Not-Ginny had just left.

And Hermione had a pretty good idea where she’d gone.

Her mind moved faster than her emotions did. If Hermione was quick enough, she was quite sure she’d make it. But what if she didn’t? What if the basilisk… Hermione _was_ a Muggleborn after all, and Riddle knew she’d figured out who his next victim was…

Hermione had to warn them, Petrified or not.

She darted to her dorm, her hands shaking like a wine glass when hit with a spoon, and quickly scribbled down a single name on a scrap of parchment. Crumpled in her first tightly, though enough for the ends to stick out visibly, she dug through her trunk and grabbed a compact mirror her mum had given her before term had begun.

“Okay, Hermione.” She whispered to herself as she snapped the trunk closed, “Let’s see that Gryffindor bravery the Sorting Hat said you had.”

* * *

“Okay, how about this one?” Ariel laughed, “Take a guess!”

Harry tossed a green colored Bertie Bott's in his mouth, nearly gagging at the taste, “Grass! Definitely grass!” 

They were sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace in Snape’s quarters the first Saturday of February. Harry had finished his homework after lunch with Ron, and he and Ariel had created a game of sorts for the evening. They had decided to put Ron’s theory to task and see how many different flavors of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavored Beans there actually were. They’d each gotten at least ten boxes each for Christmas and hadn’t touched them yet. It was proving to be rather entertaining, much more so than some nights cooped up here, though disgusting, at the same time.

“Gross.” Ariel made a face, “Describe it.”

“It’s like…” He chewed away thoughtfully, swirling the taste with his tongue, “fresh cut lawn.”

“That doesn’t sound _that_ bad.” Ariel rolled her eyes.

“Yeah?” Harry stuck his now green tongue out at her, “I’d like to see your face if _you’d_ gotten it!”

“Don’t complain.” She handed him a napkin so that he could spit it out, “I got ear wax before, remember?”

“Fine, fine.” He bent over the table, grabbing the quill and quickly scratching down _grass._

“Want to try one, Dad?” Ariel called over to Snape, who was angrily snarling down at an essay every once in awhile from behind his desk.

“No.” Snape called back flatly, and they both smirked, sharing a look.

“How many different flavors is that so far?” Ariel peeked over Harry’s shoulder eagerly.

“Eighteen.” He grinned as he counted the tallies, “And we’ve still got nineteen more boxes.”

“You’re both going to end up with a mouth full of cavities.” Snape sounded bored by their game, as if he were actually paying attention to it, “I don’t want to hear it when all your teeth fall out.”

“Well, it’s a good thing Hermione’s parents are dentists.” Harry nudged Ariel.

She laughed, but gave him a confused look, “What are dentists?”

“They’re Muggle doctors who specialize in teeth.”

“In _teeth?_ That sounds dreadfully boring.”

Harry shrugged, scratching down the nineteenth tally on the parchment, “To each his own, I guess.”

Ariel giggled, grabbing a yellow and black polka dotted bean from the box, “Okay, by the looks of this one, I’d say popcorn, or… hm… rotten eggs?”

“Only one way to find out.” Harry grinned, quill at the ready.

_“Blood… kill…”_

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

_“Kill… let me… tear you… kill…”_

Harry dropped his quill. A cold feeling fell down the length of his spine as his eyes shot upwards, the echoes of the voice bouncing around the interior of his mind, or perhaps it was the room, itself. Harry couldn’t tell.

Ariel’s eyes met his, wide in bewilderment. She’d frozen in place, her hand still raised to toss the jellybean into her mouth.

_“I can smell… come… let me…”_

“What _is_ that?” She whispered, looking very frightened. Of course she wouldn’t recognize… she’d been under Tom’s control…

 _Wait,_ Harry thought, _if she can hear it… than that means she’s a –_

Snape immediately looked up, his eyes both questioning and automatically wary. They commanded a response from both of them without saying a single word.

“What the _hell_ is that?” Ariel asked again, her voice shrill.

_“Come… let me… kill… KILL…”_

“Dad?” Ariel said, alarmed, rising from the couch, “Do you… can you –”

“It’s the basilisk.” Harry croaked, “It’s back.”

Snape stood up so quickly that he almost knocked his chair over. He was by their sides in the blink of an eye, face stone cold and eyes flashing. He grabbed Ariel’s arm, a sudden movement that made her jump back, startled.

“Look at me.” Snape commanded, grabbing her chin with his fingers. Harry couldn’t see his face, _“Legilimens!”_

The three of them didn’t so much as breath. Even the fire seemed to have stopped crackling in the hearth.

“How _could_ it be me?” Ariel snapped after the pause, looking wounded. There were tears in her eyes.

“I had to make sure.” Snape said, so soft that Harry was quite sure there was an apology somehow in there. He looked back at Harry, his eyes now narrowed, “You’re certain?”

“I heard it too.” Ariel whispered before Harry could answer, “It makes sense… doesn’t it? I couldn’t hear it before since Tom…”

“So someone else _did_ find it.” Harry said quietly, his stomach tossing and tearing away at itself, still feeling the after effects of that terrible voice.

“It would seem so.” Snape said darkly, _“You,”_ He grabbed both sides of Ariel’s face with his hands and gave her a small shake, “will _stay here._ Do you understand me? The _both_ of you will _stay_ and _not move_ until I return. Keep your wands on you.”

Ariel nodded, her bottom lip trembling as she clutched back, “Y-you’re not going after it, right?”

“I’m going to tell the Headmaster. We might be able to prevent another attack from happening.” He let go of her and looked straight at Harry, “Keep close to each other. If anything should happen, I’ll know, and I’ll be here in a heartbeat.”

“Please don’t go after it.” She whispered, “He’ll kill you.”

 _“Stay.”_ It was a hard, cold command now.

Ariel hugged him, then, her arms wrapping around his waist. It was only for a split second, but it enough to make something deep within Harry, something he didn’t know how to identify, squirm.

He looked away.

“If anyone tries to enter these quarters, I’ll know.” Snape said. He was looking straight at Harry again when he looked back up, gripping Ariel’s shoulder tightly, “Do _not_ answer the door for anyone except myself or the Headmaster. Is that understood?”

Harry nodded at him.

“Don’t leave.” He said again, though this time, it was like plea, and it confused Harry. Snape didn’t beg.

He was gone in a flurry of green flames that left sparks flying through the air. Harry stared at them for a long time, until he saw his sister fall against the couch in his peripheral vision.

Her face was like burning paper.

“He’s so mad.” Ariel whispered.

“Snape?” Harry rasped, his heart beating to every single syllable he’d heard the basilisk hiss.

“Tom.” She looked straight at him, and her eyes were like blood in water, “He’s going to kill me for what I did.”

* * *

Severus felt nothing but automation as he stepped into Dumbledore’s office. The voices that spoke in his head that warned and hissed had gone silent. The feeling in the tips of his fingers was gone, his joints burning something terrible, like his body had not wanted to leave either of the children back in his quarters alone.

The Dark Lord would come for the girl, and then the boy.

Severus should have taken her, taken the _both of them,_ far away the second the first victim had been found. But how was he to have known… the legend had only spoken of Muggleborns, and _neither_ of fell under that category.

_Lily would be a target what if it had been Lily her child her children the girl the boy Lily_

“I was just about to Firecall you.” Dumbledore said before the ashes could clear from Severus’ vision as he stepped out of the fireplace.

When he could see clearly, could take hold of his thoughts despite the fact that every part of him felt numb, _needed_ to be numb if he was to go about this clearly, Severus saw that Minerva was standing with Dumbledore in front of his desk.

She looked… pained.

“They heard it.” Severus said tonelessly, “The both of them.”

“Then it is as I feared.” Dumbledore said grimly, his timeless blue eyes old and void of warmth.

“Was there another victim, then?” He asked, hating every word of that sentence. The Dark Lord becoming powerful enough to possess another student… it had only been a little over two _months…_

It had only taken him that long to control Ariel.

Minerva nodded, her mouth pursed into a straight line. It seemed she didn’t trust herself to speak.

“Let us go.” Dumbledore said quietly, and the three of them hurried from the Headmaster’s office, swift as wind and just as silent.

Poppy and Lockhart, who Severus hadn’t seen since before Christmas, were already on the scene. The medi-witch was conjuring the body onto a stretching, levitating it midair. Lockhart was shaking his head like he’d witnessed the attack and been Stunned helpless.

Severus’ fingers itched to Hex him down another corridor.

There was writing on the wall once more, lit by the glow of their wands.

 _Her skeleton will lie in the chamber forever,_ it read.

The corridor seemed colder, the night darker, all of a sudden.

“A pity.” Lockhart was humming, “If I had been here, I could have saved her.”

Severus ignored him as Dumbledore inspected the message. He walked around Pomfrey to see who the newest victim was, immediately recognizing that horrid hair before his eyes landed on her face.

Something inside of him shrieked. Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, Potter was going to have a conniption – Ariel was going to hide in her room for another week. Of _all_ of the people…

“Could you, Gilderoy?” Minerva snapped, obviously stricken by the identity of the victim, “Could you do nothing now, then? Weren’t you _just_ saying the other night that you’ve known where the entrance to the chamber lied all along?”

“Oh, well…” Lockhart rubbed his face, turning beet-red.

“Ah, I remember too, Minerva.” Severus said dryly, his eyes not leaving Granger’s face, “It seems your moment has come at last, Lockhart. A girl has been taken into the chamber and requires a dashing rescue.”

“Well –” Lockhart stuttered, “I –”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Minerva smiled a feral grin, “The longer the girl is down there, the less time you have. You’re only hurting yourself, and your chances, Gilderoy.”

“Right – of course!” Lockhart said shakily, holding up a hand, “Excuse me, then!”

He was gone so quickly that Severus might have thought he was a puff of smoke.

“Simpleton.” Minerva seethed, “As though taking a situation such as this… to _brag…_ the sheer _nerve –”_

“Wait.” Severus murmured, kneeling down as something caught his eye. It seemed that Granger had been holding something in her hand when she’d been Petrified. He inspected closer, and plucked a ripped piece of parchment from Granger’s frozen hand.

“What is it?” Dumbledore asked as Severus straightened up, unfolding the parchment with unsteady hands.

 _Ginny,_ it read.

“Who was the student taken, Minerva?” Severus asked.

“Ginny Weasley.” She frowned, “Why?”

“Headmaster…” He said slowly, handing the parchment to him, his body already preparing itself to head in the direction his heart longed to return to. His body vibrated with the need, with the fear that –

Unless… how could Granger have known… unless…

Oh Merlin _no –_

His eyes met Dumbledore’s, and there was undeniable understanding in them. Without another word for the other professors, Severus took off, trying to walk as fast as he could without running, lest someone see him. His breath was coming out in short pants, and as he raised his Shields, Severus forced himself to deepen his breathing so that the edges of his vision would stop shaking.

The idea of the Dark Lord coming for one of them before had been a concern, but now, if he’d clawed his way back by using another student, there was no denying what he’d do first. Severus had to get them out of here, and _now._

He was stopped when he saw a dark-haired boy heading down the corridor, in front of him, touching the walls the way Dumbledore had when Ariel had broken free. He stopped, lingering, his fingers tracing over the stones. His eyes were closed, like he was praying.

This really wasn’t the time to be catching brats out of bed, but he was… in an unusual spot. This was near Severus’ quarters… why would a student be _this_ deep in the dungeons at such a late hour?

“What the hell are you doing, boy?” Severus barked.

The student turned, his eyes flickering open slowly, like Severus had interrupted something. He strode towards the boy, who couldn’t have been more than sixteen. His hair was dark, and his eyes were light.

“Professor Snape,” the boy said in a soft voice, as if he was an old friend. “We meet at last.”

Severus untucked his wand from his sleeve, something so eerily familiar about those eyes… something about his face, even though Severus had never once seen him inside of Hogwarts. He hated all the little cretins, but he’d taught every single one – this boy was not a student here. He was wearing Slytherin robes…but something wasn’t right.

“Who are you?” Severus asked, the boy’s grey eyes like fog, clouding his mind and thoughts. “You’re not in Slytherin – I know all my Snakes. What are you doing in the dungeons?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” He smiled, though, in a strange way, like he was baring his teeth. “We both know your little girl. I’m on my way to see her and Harry now, actually. You should join me.”

His heart stopped – he felt it thunder through him, almost stumbling back. The past beat inside him like a second heart –

_Do you swear yourself to me, Severus?_

It threatened to consume him, his body vibrating with abhorrence and naked hatred, so strong that words failed him.

_Do you swear your loyalty, your eternal devotion?_

Severus realized who he was face to face with.

He could feel his pulse in his mouth as an even greater sense overcame the thrill of panic trying to render him weak. There was a surge of strength at the mention of Ariel, and of Potter, who were in his quarters. Severus had to get to them…had to –

The Dark Lord, sixteen years old – the Dark Lord, talking and walking and corporal – cocked his head at him when Severus did not respond. It would take a monster to destroy a monster –

 _Light will drive out the darkness,_ Albus had told him once.

What he’d said _fully_ registered, and Severus raised his wand – not _his_ child, not Lily’s –

 _“Imperio.”_ The boy said, like a prayer.

Inside his mind, Severus roared, but these were ties that were meant to bind.


	49. Ice of Phoenix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I was going to avoid an author’s note this chapter for *dramatic effect* but SO MANY PEOPLE are confused on whether Ariel is a Parseltongue. This happened with the older upload too, so let me just say, since I’ve been subtle about it, that she is. It wasn't clear because she was the Heir, and was unable to remember and hear the basilisk seeing as Tom was controlling her. Last chapter, she heard it because she was free. So yes — both of them are Parseltongues, sorry for any confusion!
> 
> I hope you enjoy, because this was so FUN to write! Please review!

Ariel paced the length of the fireplace while Harry lined the remaining jelly beans from the box atop the table. Neither of them had spoken a single word since Snape’s departure, though it was written as clear as day _why_ in the tense air. The fire danced and cast shadows, the candles lit about the room slowly fading, but neither sibling had cared enough to relight them.

“I should be out there.” Ariel finally mumbled, causing Harry to look up, “This is my fault.”

“He’ll be fine.” Harry said quietly, “Tom’s after _us,_ after all.”

“What if he gets hurt?” She whispered. Ariel stared at the mantle, at the odd picture of the boat Snape kept there, as if it held the answers she was looking for. She made a sound in the back of her throat.

“I don’t think whoever Tom possessed could take down _Snape.”_

Ariel flinched. “Someone else is being _hurt.”_

“They’ll find him.” He didn’t believe that for a second – he had a very bad feeling about all this, but his sister didn’t need to know that.

“That means someone _took_ it!” She fell onto the couch. “Who would… _who_ could it have been? We were there in the middle of the night!”

“I don’t know.” Harry sighed. “Maybe Riddle hid himself… and then revealed himself the next day…”

“Dumbledore would have sensed it…”

There was shuffling outside of the door, then. Harry froze, tensing, as he heard the lock click. At that, Harry and Ariel shared a look of relief – it was only Snape, since only _he_ could get in. The door creaked open, and Ariel stood, craning her neck as Snape stepped inside.

He looked stiff, like he’d been doused in ice water. His face was blank – smooth and undisturbed, like a pond. His eyes glittered strangely in the candlelight.

“Who was it?” Ariel whispered. “Is Tom back?”

Snape didn’t answer, and Harry felt a terrible feeling fall over him. His spine tingled, as if a cool breeze had passed through the room. Snape unsheathed his wand, and it was then that Harry saw how badly his hands were trembling. His muscles were strained, clenching in his face, like he was biting back a scream.

“Dad?” Ariel took a step towards him. “What happened? Did someone –”

His face twisted, and Harry inched his way to his sister. Something was _very_ wrong with him, and Ariel didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes were searching Snape’s face, like his behavior would make sense when whatever he was fighting broke through. The fact that he seemed to be battling with himself was what made Harry lurch forward and shake his sister.

“Ariel…” Harry croaked. “Ariel, that’s not Snape.”

“What are you talking about?” Ariel ignored him, taking a step towards her father. “Of _course_ it is!”

“No… no, Ariel, something's not right!”

“Oh, this is growing tiresome.” a voice Harry had heard only once sighed. “I _will_ give you points for resisting, Snape, but that won’t stop me.”

Ariel’s eyes widened, and she stumbled back, her expression asking Snape what was happening, but Snape was moving. He just stood there with so much anguish in his face that Harry felt his stomach drop to his feet.

“Harry…” Ariel’s voice was low and hoarse. _“Harry,_ it’s –”

A boy stepped into view that Harry had never seen before.

He had wavy dark hair, and his Hogwarts robes had a Slytherin crest on them. He stood as perfect and immaculate as if were being presented with some prize he’d long awaited. His eyes were grey, like smoke, but did not look like they had come from any living flame. They were cold and seemed to glint like silver bullets.

The look on Ariel’s face told Harry everything he needed to ask.

This was… this could not… _be…_

“Tom?” Ariel croaked.

He smiled. Harry had expected his smile to look mad and evil, the kind that had nearly torn Ariel in two when he’d possessed her. But it was a handsome, pleased smile, almost charming. It was even worse than the other one, somehow.

"So, Potters," Tom said softly, "we meet at last."

It was so unexpected, so strange, to see Voldemort look so… _normal…_ he was _more_ than just normal. He was good looking, something soft and soothing in his voice that made it trusting. Warm, even, but enough cold in it to keep Harry grounded and equally terrified.

He looked to just Ariel, now.

_“Crucio.”_ Tom crooned.

Ariel let out a shriek as Harry lurched forward, wand pointed directly in between the boy’s eyes. His sister crumpled to the ground between them, jerking and twitching about like she was being electrocuted. Snape’s face somehow intensified, like whatever Tom had him under had worsened, but Harry knew it had nothing to do with that. Harry could have sworn he him flinch, even though Snape was stiller than a statue.

Tom cocked his head at Ariel as he stood beside Snape and watched her.

_“STOP IT!”_ Harry shouted, taking a menacing step forward.

“Or what?” Tom laughed, keeping the red beam focused on Ariel, who writhed in agony on the floor, “You’ll do worse to me? Professor _Snape_ couldn’t stop me – what could _you_ possibly do, Harry Potter?”

His wand lowered itself, though only slightly. Harry could see his hand shaking, willing himself to stop, though his terror was reaching new heights. He tried to get Snape to look at him, but he was staring at Ariel, his face smooth, but in his eyes, Harry could see him moving, like a shape below the surface of water.

“How does it feel, dearest Ariel,” Tom knelt so that they were on the same level, “to be torn down and thrown aside?”

She spat at Tom’s feet, and his eyes flashed dangerously. It seemed that he had released the spell.

“What did you do to my dad?” Ariel cried, her voice cracking, “What did you do? What’s _wrong_ with him?”

“Always worrying about the entirely _wrong_ thing.” Tom sneered down at her, “Did you not gather, you stupid, foolish girl, that I’ve opened the Chamber to finish off you and your brother? I thought _daddy_ might like to watch. Perhaps I’ll let him live when I’m finished… let him stew in his misery.”

“You’re sick.” Ariel whispered. Relief was heavy in her voice, despite the fact that she was lying defenseless in front of the boy who would grow to become Voldemort. “Let him go! He hasn’t got anything to do with this!”

“I can’t do that… it seems you really did learn _nothing_ from our time together.” Tom tsk tsk’d, “Funny, isn’t it, how a silly little book went from one stupid _little_ girl to another? How do you feel, Ariel Potter, knowing _you_ started this?”

“What are you talking about?” Harry demanded, pulling Ariel to her feet as Tom straightened up. “Who took the diary?”

“I believe you know her – Ginny Weasley.” Tom looked incredibly pleased with himself.

Harry stared back, horrified. _Ginny?_ He couldn’t make sense of it… all those summer days playing with her and Ron. How could someone close to them have gone unnoticed _again?_ Mr and Mrs Weasley would be crushed if anything –

He was going to be sick.

“Let her _go.”_ Ariel hissed, “She’s only a first year – please!” 

“Oh, but I wouldn’t want her to feel left out!” Tom said, twirling his wand with the tips of her fingers, “She was just a bit late to the party. But now we’re all here – Ginny’s waiting for us.” he gestured openly with his arms and gave Harry a cold smirk, “Even our favorite little Slytherin! How quaint—Gryffindors and Slytherins, about to embark in tandem!”

“You leave him out of this!” Ariel spat, pushing herself to her feet and standing in front of Harry.

He grabbed her arm. He couldn’t think straight, not knowing what to do. Snape was under some kind of spell…

“Oh, but he is just as important as you are.” Tom smiled. “More than, I reckon. You’re a weak thing, Ariel Potter, but your brother does _intrigue_ me. Not just _anyone_ gets Sorted into Slytherin, you know. Maybe he’ll be a bit more entertaining before I kill you both.”

“Let Ginny and Snape go.” Harry stepped around Ariel, “And we’ll go with you, wherever you want us.”

Snape made a noise – it sounded like a growl, but somehow more desperate, like a wounded animal.

“Oh, you see,” Tom shook his head and smiled, “it doesn’t work that way, dear Harry. I’m afraid Ginny’s chance has already passed. Professor Snape realizes that.”

“Why?” He demanded, “What’s she got to do with this?”

“She’s what I needed all along.” Tom smiled, “Ginny was much easier to control than your idiot sister was – Ginny wrote often about how terribly annoying her brothers were, and I, of course, listened. I fed off of her fears and sadness and all the weeping. It was revolting, of course, but it is what I lacked before. With you, annoying little shit you were, Ariel, I hadn’t _nearly_ as much control, it would seem. And if I’m going to harness her… well, stupid little Ginny Weasley will be meeting the same fate you both will be, very, _very_ soon.”

“How did you find her?” Harry demanded, “I _saw_ you that night in the bathroom! We were only gone twenty minutes…”

“Does it matter, Harry Potter?” Tom sighed, like the conversation had become bothersome, “I really don’t want to dally. We’ll have all the time in the world to chat once we’re in the Chamber.” His face stretched so wide it looked like it hurt, “Do you both want to see the Chamber? I _want_ you to see it, dearest Potter children. I’m afraid Ariel’s already had a sneak peek, but I don’t think she remembers much. She wasn’t herself, really.”

“And what makes you think,” Ariel asked slowly, “that we’ll go _anywhere_ with you?”

Tom frowned, as if they’d told him they’d canceled Christmas, “Oh, but you wouldn’t want poor Ginny to be all alone! I can make her death something terrible, you know. I threatened that before when she began to fight me. She began to yell and cry and became rather boring, and then your Mudblood friend came in –”

Harry felt a block of ice slide down his throat and down into his stomach.

“Hermione?” He took a step forward so that he was standing beside Ariel instead of behind her.

“I believe I said Mudblood, yes.” Tom said in an irritated voice, “I was able to take care of her before I came to fetch the both of you. She proved to be an excellent distraction – I hadn’t planned to use her, but I must say, I think it was rather fitting, seeing how annoying she could be at times.”

Blood was rushing to his ears and face, the cold falling away like ice off a glacier.

“What did you _DO?”_ Harry roared, propelling himself forward, but Ariel caught him round his shoulders and tugged him back.

“Temper, _temper.”_ Tom raised his wand, “Do I have to teach _you_ a lesson too, Harry?”

“No!” Ariel yelled as Harry grabbed his wand –

_“Crucio!”_

He didn’t remember hitting the ground – only the blinding pain. It was worse than Harry could have ever imagined. It felt like someone was stretching his bones apart and dipping them in hot oil, his skin melting like Quirrell’s had. All he could hear was his own shouts as a voice in his head pleaded – _make it stop please make it –_

When it was over, Harry heard Tom laughing. There was a pressure on his arm – Ariel was holding his head up, her face twisting in and out of grief and fury.

“Now Harry,” Tom gave them a terrible smile, “where do you keep that Invisibility Cloak your big sister told me so much about?”

* * *

He couldn’t breathe he couldn’t focus he couldn’t do _ANYTHING_

The girl was leaning into him like he was useful from under the Cloak. He could feel her warmth, feel it like she wasn’t in the Dark Lord’s clutches –

_You didn’t deserve what they did to you_

Every once in awhile she’d look up at him. He wanted to speak to her, tell her to _run run run_

_I won’t let him_

Even if Severus could, he knew in his heart of hearts that Ariel would never leave him. It frightened him beyond comprehension. All he could see was that face and those eyes, _those eyes –_

Lily’s and his –

_If it’s worth anything, Mum loved you too you just never realized it_

The remnants of Lily, marching to their death, executioner in tow. Death had come to Hogwarts. His child, Lily’s children…

Her legacy, the remnants of her Severus had sworn to protect –

Resisting the Cruciatus had taken everything out of him. Severus had waited, knowing he could break free when the opportunity came, but then the Dark Lord’s voice was at his ear, telling him to raise his wand, to point it at his _child_ and her eyes were staring at him with such naked trust –

He had to do something but the Dark _Lord_ was _sixteen again_ he was walking he’d taken Severus’ will he couldn’t –

In his box, he prayed that Dumbledore had followed, but knew it was too late. Severus was doing everything he could, but there was no room to move in his box, in this corner of himself he hadn’t known existed. His Shields had been an even match for the Dark Lord’s spell, but he’d let himself fear, let himself feel and reach for the children in his quarters –

Severus had always known they’d be his undoing. And now, the Dark Lord would kill them, the remnants of two people he had killed himself.

Ariel was looking up at him again, her eyes searching his, and he wanted to give himself to her.

He’d never wanted anything so badly in his life.

* * *

Ariel couldn’t help but gape at the room before them. It was so wide, so vast, so eerily calm, and yet, so terrifyingly familiar that she didn’t think that she _could_ speak.

Tom had led the way to the Chamber, though from behind, with his wand pressed against Harry’s neck. Ariel had gritted her teeth and led them under the Invisibility Cloak, straight into the girl’s bathroom, Severus beside him, not under the cloak. He was acting like some sick bodyguard.

The sink – the bloody _sink_ – had opened up with a single hiss from Tom’s mouth… and down they’d slid…

Tom had made a point to step on Ariel’s ankle as she’d struggled to push herself back to her feet once they had hit the ground, and with a sickening _crack_ and flash of fresh pain, Ariel was quite sure it was broken, or at least, badly sprained. Tom had ordered Severus to carry her when she struggled to walk, even with Harry’s arm around her waist.

Ariel touched her father’s face silently, Tom’s back to them, trying to get him to respond. For the first few seconds, her father looked straight ahead, his eyes glassy. As Ariel let his fingertips trace over his cheek, only then did his head finally turn, his eyes boring into hers.

There was a flash of panic — Ariel could see it, see the anguish. Fear was scarce, because acceptance was easier to grasp.

Ariel pushed her guilt away and focused only her anger and motivation to make sure her brother was safe. He was walking in front of them, dazed, like he couldn’t believe where they were.

Black, motionless water lay like long mirrors to either side of a glistening walkway that stretched past stone pillars entwined with snakes, their hollow eye sockets pitted with shadows. The ceiling disappeared into the blackness overhead, and that strange, green light that had shone through her father’s quarter windows a long time ago lit the chamber. 

Tom was picking up the pace, striding toward the end of the path. They followed slowly behind him, several feet away. Ariel’s eyes landed on a set of feet at the very end of the Chamber as her father and Harry halted to a stop, both of their eyes widening at the sight.

“Put her down.” Tom called lazily from over his shoulder.

Severus did so gently, and it surprised her. Ariel had expected him to just drop her, but it seemed that the spell had wiggle room. As soon as her father did so, Ariel tried to stand again. She stumbled to the ground, her hands reaching out to break the fall as she met the wet, slimy ground. Harry reached down to pull her back up, but Ariel simply shook her head at him.

Her eyes trailed up the stone figure Tom was staring up at, following the robes and the beard, and eventually found the statue’s face. It seemed to be Slytherin himself, who Ariel had seen pictures of as a child when Dumbledore had told her stories of the Founders in old books that were covered dust and written with lost metaphors and thoughts.

There was a figure lying on the floor in front of it.

_“Ginny!”_ Harry shouted, hurtling forward. Tom gave a lazy flick of his wand, and Severus’ hand caught his shoulder, holding him in place.

But something was happening…

“The diary!” Ariel gasped, pushing herself to her feet, determined to grab it and throw it in the water, fling it far away, get it away from Ginny –

A burst of wind erupted from nowhere, catching her in the chest, shoving her back. Harry screamed her name, latching onto her arm. They staggered back, both of them on the knees as the wind gained in strength, blackened like a cloud of chimney smoke, charcoal lashed with color, red and pale pink and yellow swirling like paint in dirty water; rising in a twisting tunnel all the way up to the ceiling, whistling like water on a kettle. A terrible roar, like the scream of something so that the power of its voice split her eardrums apart, like the sound of one’s soul being ripped from their body…

Ariel grabbed her brother’s hand as he hauled himself and her to their feet. She grabbed her wand from her robe pocket and shoved it inside her sleeve, hidden from view so that Tom couldn’t see, and hoped to Merlin that Harry had done something similar. The wand Tom had been using wasn’t her father’s, which meant he must’ve taken Ginny’s.

She had to get them out of here…

Ariel blinked several times, Harry looking agog at her side. Behind him, on the floor, Ginny lay motionless, the diary beside her. Ariel couldn’t help it as her ankle gave out from underneath from her once more with a cry of shattering pain.

“Truly pathetic.” Tom said as he turned, with a look of pure disgust, “You can’t even stand as you die, bear to be in my presence without collapsing.”

_“Maybe,”_ Ariel snapped through gritted teeth, “if you hadn’t shattered my _ankle –”_

She rushed forward then, an angered and startled cry from Harry reaching her ears as an unseen force jerked and dragged her forward. Tom was suddenly coming towards her, though _he_ wasn’t moving. His hand was outstretched –

Ariel lay at his feet, her ankle screaming, and Tom laughed, the sound like hail against the pane of an old window. Her father’s face spasmed, like he was being electrocuted, but he did not move from his spot behind Harry.

“You weren’t nearly this fiery when I had you.” He murmured, bending down to look her in the eye. They held so much expression, but at the same time, nothing, lifeless, void of the very thing that set her and others apart from the monster Ariel knew him to be, “Have you really forgotten our time together, dear Ariel?”

“I will _never_ forget what you did to me!” She hissed viciously.

Tom held a mocking hand over his heart and straightened up, pretending to wipe away tears of joy. His hand reached for her, and Ariel skittered back – 

“If you lay a hand on her,” Harry said slowly, enunciating each syllable, “I’ll kill you.”

She turned to look at him. His wand was out, hands balled at his sides. His voice was ice.

“Oh, _please,_ don’t threaten me with a good time.” Tom sneered, grabbing a fistful of Ariel’s hair and tugged, hard. She let out a yelp, but gritted her teeth and glared up at him with as much hatred as she could muster. “In fact… let’s release Severus. I think he’s been holding back quite a bit, don’t you?”

Tom gave a quick flick of his wand, and Severus lurched forward and fell – Tom chuckled. Ariel immediately staggered towards him, but Tom gripped her hair right down to the root and held her there. For a long moment, her father stayed perfectly still. Ariel’s heart felt like it had been crushed with a rolling pin. All of her organs felt like they were gone, leaving behind one flat semblance of tissue in her chest.

When her father finally looked up, his face was the scariest thing Ariel had even seen, and _that_ was saying something, seeing as Tom was downright terrifying – and about to set a giant monster snake on them. The lines in his face were gaunt and hollow, like he’d been gutted. His eyes, however, were glittering strangely, half mad, half predatory. Ariel had never seen him look that way before, and for a second, she wondered if Tom had put him under another spell.

“Get behind me, Potter.” Severus said in a very dangerous voice. It made Ariel shiver, even though Soon-to-Be-Voldemort had his hands in her hair.

Harry did as he was told, though he looked reluctant, his green eyes never leaving Ariel’s. Severus rose from the ground, throwing his left arm in front of Harry, the other grappling for his wand.

“Give me,” Her father’s voice was so cold and dark that for a minute, Ariel was reminded of her box. “my _child.”_

“But she’s not,” Tom purred. “and we mustn’t touch what isn’t ours, Severus.”

“Spare me the supercilious shit.” Severus was panting, his breathing ragged and uneven. “Dumbledore knows you’re here – it’s over. He’ll never allow you to walk out of this school.”

“Dumbledore can’t stop me.” said Tom softly. “Nothing can stop the Heir, or the monster under my control. He obeys _me,_ just as your brat did – though, let’s stop pretending she’s yours, Severus. You’ve no right to this child, especially after falling _so_ disappointingly short. I _had_ hoped you’d realize it was Ariel instead of Harry… I wanted to relish the look on your face.”

That half-mad expression on her father’s face seemed to intensify. He looked skeletal, like he was holding back something terrible, and Ariel wasn’t sure she wanted him to unleash it, even if it could possibly save them all. Harry’s eyes were focused on Severus, dark like cloves.

“You raised a terribly stupid girl.” She could hear the smile in Tom’s voice. “What a strange little family dynamic this turned out to be. Tell me, Severus – I’m curious to know – is it pity that keeps you here now, or guilt?”

“Stop it.” Ariel whispered, her heart crushing her ribs. “It’s not his fault –”

Harry swerved around Severus’ arm. “Haven’t you hurt her enough? Why don’t you just get on whatever it is, then!”

_“Potter –”_ Her father warned.

“Shall I tell you a secret, Harry Potter?” Something glinted to life in Tom’s eyes and stayed there, something both bright and dark at the same time, “I had weak family, too. Filthy _Muggle_ relatives, mind you. Worthless wastes of flesh. I killed them, of course. It was immensely satisfying.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Harry’s eyes were only on Ariel now, and she shook her head at him, screaming in her head for him to _run,_ to get _far away –_

“Because, dear Harry,” Tom said, like his insinuation was the most obvious thing in the world, “shouldn’t little Ariel be _punished?_ After all, it _was_ her who initiated dialogue with me. It _was_ dear sweet little Ariel Potter who opened the Chamber of Secrets.” His fingers massaged her hair, his nails digging into her scalp, and Ariel couldn’t help but let out a whimper.

“Let her go.” Her father’s voice was a low rumble, like the crescendo to a ripping roar of thunder. “Give me my girl or so help me —”

“That wasn’t her.” Harry shot back evenly, interrupting Severus. “It was _you.”_

“Ah, yes, _bravo.”_ Tom rolled his eyes, “But _why,_ Harry? Of all the things Ariel lacked, was it company? I believe that is _your_ dilemma, growing up with filthy Muggle relatives that gave you nothing but a sharp word here and there. Oh yes, Ginny told me all about that. She told me how you stayed with them, how your privileged sister got a father and a proper magical upbringing – the life _you_ should have had.”

Harry’s face spasmed in hurt and confusion.

“Don’t listen to him,” Her father grabbed his shoulder. “Potter, look at me –”

Tom laughed – it bounced off the Chamber walls, surrounding them from all sounds. “Listen to _him? He’s_ the reason you’re all alone, Harry! He’s the reason your big sister wasn’t there for you all those years… they left you alone with the _Muggles.”_

“It wasn't like that.” Harry whispered. “It was —”

“All your pain,” Tom said softly. “And Ariel still doubts the both of you. Oh, how easy it was, to see how she wrestled with the idea of her _Daddy_ caring for her — of being a good _big sister_ to Harry Potter. Ariel doesn't deserve to _feel_ that way, Harry — she doesn't _get_ to, not after what people like you and I have been through!”

_“Enough.”_ Her father finally boomed. Ariel noticed that his hand was gripping Harry’s shoulder to the point of bruising. “You cannot lie — not after what you've done. He won’t be manipulated by the likes of _you.”_

"She thinks herself worthless." Tom said sneered, like this disgusted him. "Tell me, Severus, what it says about her upbringing if your _child_ cares little about her own life?" 

He was trying to humiliate her — and it was working. Dragging all of her deepest insecurities to the surface...

"I'm not going to repeat myself." Severus said softly. "Give – me – Ariel."

"Don't you see, Harry Potter?" Tom murmured. "See what I meant… even little Ginny Weasley —”

“It seems you asked Ginny a lot of things.” Ariel finally spoke up under his grip, which tightened, knotting in her scarlet hair, “Seems you didn’t have the courage to ask me yourself, huh? Better to ask the defenseless first year for dirt instead of forcing it out of me.”

“Oh, it was quite easy. Ginny hates you sometimes.” Tom said, like he was discussing the tile lining the Chamber, “Loads, actually. Pretty Ariel Potter, with her dark red hair and dead Mudblood mother’s face. Ginny hates how her brothers treat you – while she’s nothing but a toy to be spun, while you’re somehow above her in value. And _you,”_ He looked at Harry, amusement making the glint in his grey eyes look like a sharpened blade, “well, Ginny has a bit of a crush on you. She never thought for a second _you_ were the one to open the Chamber. But now, her she is… another weakling where she belongs. Another one bites the dust, it seems.”

“What do you want, Tom?” Harry asked quietly, “What’s your point?”

“My point?” Ariel could hear the smile in his voice without looking up, “Why do you not seek payment for the sins against you? Has your sister not repeatedly done things that have hurt you? Does she not weep and find comfort, while you find nothing but reminders that you are an orphan?”

“I’m only an _orphan,”_ Harry’s voice rose, “because of _you! You_ did all of this!”

“Tell me, Harry,” Tom asked softly, “that you didn't mean those things you said that night in the girls’ bathroom.”

“Of course I didn’t!” Harry said angrily. “I was trying to distract _you!”_

“Tell me you don't think Ariel deserves to pay.” Tom hissed, “That she should be punished — _I_ do.”

Her father took a step forward, wand at the ready, his face manic —

"I'm _nothing_ like you." Harry said, his voice shaking.

“Heroes always get remembered,” Tom smiled, something far more frightening than when he looked angry, “but you know, dear Harry, legends never die.”

“Apparently, they do.” He gave Tom a wicked smile, “Because _you_ did when you tried to kill us.”

Tom’s face spasmed, and he let go of Ariel’s hair as he stepped towards Harry menacingly. Severus threw his arm out in front of him and shoved him back, wand pointed right at Tom.

“It wasn’t you, stupid boy! It was your filthy Mudblood mother’s _sacrifice_ that stopped me!” He panted wildly, and Ariel could see his hands turn into claws at his sides. But then, after a moment, he straightened his robes and cleared his throat, “I see you’ve learned my true identity, then. I believe that’s the first intelligent conclusion you’ve come to thus far. How long did it take you to realize the greatest wizard of all time was really the boy in the diary?”

“Albus Dumbledore,” Harry said in a strong voice, “is the greatest wizard of all time. _Not_ you!”

That was the final straw, it seemed. Riddle turned back toward her, his face more than ever like that thing on the back of Quirrell's head.

“No more dreaming of the day, as if death itself, was undone.” Tom said, with sinister reverence in his voice. He smiled down at her, “Goodbye, Ariel. It's not been entertaining, but it has been enlightening. I would say I would miss your company, but I don’t think you return the sentiment.”

_“Sectumsempra!”_ Her father snarled, pointing his wand at Tom as Ariel scrambled away.

Tom deflected, like he was dodging a leaf. “Really, Severus? Is that the _best_ you can do for your daughter and her brother? I must say, I’m rather disappointed.”

Ariel dove out of the way as they air behind her cracked with magic. Her father threw up a Shielding Charm just as Tom sent a bolt of crimson his way. She watched, unable to tear her eyes away, as Severus snarled, and launched a round of spells. The air fizzed and boomed, like fireworks were being set off. They echoed off the walls, an explosion of color – reds and greens and blues. Ariel watched, her jaw hitting the ground, as her father fired continuously, viciously, with precision and dexterity. She’d no idea he was such a talented dueler –

Tom wobbled back, though none of the spells made contact. Severus snarled, releasing a steady stream of blue – they weren’t even shouting the spells, they were dueling wordlessly. Ariel watched, unsure exactly why she couldn’t force herself to look away as Tom shot up a Shield. It wasn’t until she felt the pressure of his hand that Ariel realized Harry was kneeling beside her, watching with rapt attention.

“Enough!” Tom said shrilly, and Severus lowered his wand, the air still crackling. “I’d finish you myself… but I’m not whole just yet… but I’ve the greatest weapon of all…”

He turned towards the statue, and bowed his head, like he was praying. Ariel tried to stand, her ankle screaming in protest, but she needed to get to her father…

" _Speak to me, Salazar,_ " Tom hissed, his voice as bloodless as the basilisk's, crawling under Ariel’s skin, burrowing beneath her fingernails, " _Give to me, greatest of the Hogwarts four._ "

The whole Chamber rumbled like thunder. From behind Slytherin's statue, something was moving… a portion of the stone was drawing back into blackness…

Harry flung herself forward and grabbed Ariel’s arm. Severus’ eyes locked onto hers, and he ran towards them, gripping Ariel tightly around the waist.

The whole floor shook as the basilisk moved.

Severus hoisted her up in his arms. “Potter, do you have that pendant the Headmaster gave you?”

Harry blinked up at him, bewildered, “Yes, but –”

“Good.” He strode towards the exit as the wind roared behind them, Tom slowly turning back as a long hissing sound filled the Chamber. “I want you to run – use the pendant, get to higher ground, and when you find Dumbledore –”

“We can’t _leave!”_ Harry shouted at him. “Are you _mad?”_

“I’m getting the both of you out of here _alive!”_ Her father snarled down at him. There was a wild, fraught look in his eyes, like the Earth was breaking in two instead of a giant monster snake coming after them.

“Ginny!” Ariel gasped, her voice shaking, “We can’t leave her – Tom’ll kill her!”

Her father cursed loudly, looking around wildly, his face no longer gaunt, but sharp and determined. If Ariel could walk, she would have gone to Ginny, but her father was clutching her to him so tightly that it hurt. She saw his eyes lock on a set out pipes lining the far walls of the Chamber, grabbing Harry’s shoulder as he flew the three of them over. He shoved Ariel on top – she was too stunned to realize what he was doing –

“Stay,” Her father picked Harry clean off the ground and practically threw him up alongside Ariel. _“here._ Do you understand me?”

“What are you _doing?”_ Ariel grabbed his arm.

“I’m making sure that _thing_ doesn’t get out of here.”

“It’ll kill you!” She shrieked. “You can’t!”

He didn’t answer her – he kissed her temple roughly, placing his hand on Harry’s shoulder, fleetingly, and then ripped it away, like he hadn’t meant to.

A flash of violet hit the pipe beside him.

“What are you doing, Severus?” Tom called, his voice sing-song. “You can’t save them…”

“Like hell I can’t.” Her father sneered, raising his wand. Ariel reached for him in an attempt to pull him back, but he rushed forward. She was frightened out of her mind – the basilisk was _coming_ and Tom was right there –

Tom rounded the corner, his chest heaving up and down, like he’d just run a marathon – he looked half mad now. There was a crazed gleam in his eyes that Ariel had been waiting to see, and now that it was there, she couldn’t look away.

Her heart shuddered.

On the opposite wall was the shadow of the head of the basilisk. Both her and Harry’s eyes doubled as it opened its mouth – she could see it’s fangs.

Severus leapt out of the way just as Tom sent a bolt of green at him – something about it made her head spin, like it was trying to recall a lost memory.

“We’ve got to help him!” Harry threw his legs over the side and jumped. “He can’t do it all himself – the basilisk…”

Severus whirled around as Harry’s feet hit the floor. “Potter, _get back –”_

“It’s no use, Snape.” Tom laughed. “They’re dead, no matter what. The basilisk will find them… not that there’s many places to hide here…”

Harry wasn’t looking at either of them – he seemed to be focusing on the silhouette of the basilisk. He took a deep breath, and his jaw set –

_“Stop.”_ Harry hissed, but it sounded strange, like he was hissing. _“Go back to where you came from.”_

The shape on the wall stopped moving. Tom looked enraged, his teeth bared, back hunched over. Severus turned, his face haunted and shocked. Ariel watched her brother, just as stunned as they were. Parseltongue – of course!

_“Do not heed him!”_ Tom said in a voice much scarier than Harry’s. _“I am your Master!”_

The basilisk gave a long, drawn out hiss – it sounded like some sort of battle cry. Ariel cringed, throwing her legs over the side of the pipe.

_“No, I am!”_ Harry glanced warily at the shadow. _“Obey me, and me alone!”_

_“Do as he says!”_ Ariel hissed — her head felt like it was about to pop of her shoulders. She’d never spoken Parseltongue before, and now that she was, she wished she never had. It felt… very strange.

Her eyes flitted to her father — he’d gone very still, his dark eyes staring at her with that scary intensity he only wore when he was worried. It was like Severus-Speak for scared.

_“Go back and never return.”_ said Harry. He was staring straight at her, and once their eyes locked, Ariel found that she couldn't look away, not even to look at Severus again.

No one, not even the basilisk, made a sound for a long pause.

“STUPEFY!” Tom shrieked, taking advantage of the sudden silence, a ray of red light hitting Severus square in the chest. He went flying back at least twenty feet as Ariel finally threw herself to the ground.

_“DAD!”_ Ariel screamed.

She heard him groan, and let out a sigh of relief. Tom had knocked him behind a large section of the pipe —

The basilisk seemed to make his decision. Instead of turning around, it slid closer, the sound of scales getting louder and louder…

— which left them to deal with it, alone.

“We’ve got to make sure it doesn't get out!” Harry said, looking over at Ginny. “And we’ve got to do something about Tom… Ginny doesn't have _time…”_

“How?” Ariel croaked. “We have nothing… our wands won't work against the diary or the basilisk… did you call Dumbledore with that pendant?”

“Of course I did!” He shouted over the roar of scales against the tile.

Then she heard the cry of a bird… the magnificent trill of a phoenix.

“Fawkes.” Ariel breathed, with a thrill of hope.

In a blur of scarlet and gold the bird fluttered its wings and alighted on her shoulder, dropping in her lap…

“Is that…” Harry looked at the object, stupefied, “the sodding _Sorting Hat?”_

Tom thought this was the best joke yet. He laughed and laughed until the only sound in Ariel’s head was his laughter. Ariel wanted to rip the Hat in two and strangle him, choke him until blood came out of his nose and he cried, the way he had made her cry.

"That's what Dumbledore sends his great defenders!" Tom said delightedly, amusement gross in his face, "A chicken and an old hat! Oh, that's _priceless!”_

Ariel’s heart began to beat a new rhythm of panic. She couldn’t move… her ankle… her dad…

But Harry could.

He seemed to realize this the same time she did, rising from his spot on the floor. Ariel grabbed his robes, whimpering, unable to make out that she was terrified out of her mind, but they had to do _something_ and she was _useless as always —_

The whole Chamber shuddered, water rippling and surging over their socks as the Basilisk slithered toward them, the sound of its scales on the floor hissing as fast as a bullet train.

There was a single, glorious high note belted from above their heads, cutting of their speech. Their backs were turned so that they didn’t see the basilisk or Tom, but the sound carried back to their ears.

“No! What are you – NO!” Tom shrieked, “NO! STOP!”

Ariel’s ears filled with the sound of something massive slithering, and Tom's voice shouting out Parseltongue. Something screamed, so high and piercing and gut-wrenching that all the hairs on her body stood up. Ariel’s gaze went from the floor to the Sorting Hat, feeling anger bubble up inside her. What good was the bloody _Sorting Hat_ against a _basilisk_ and a _psychotic madman –_ why hadn’t _Dumbledore_ just come –

And then she saw the hilt of a sword sticking out of the entrance.

Ariel reached forward and pulled it out, her dark eyes dancing as the rubies met her gaze.

_“Where_ did you get that?” Harry looked at it, bewildered.

“It was in the Hat!” Ariel struggled to get to her feet as the basilisk – who sounded _very_ pissed – roared, “Help me! I’ve got to –”

“Let me – you can’t walk.” He grabbed the sword from her grip, to her horror, and stood.

“NO!” Ariel reached up, but he held it above her head, “No, Harry, _wait!”_

"KILL THEM!” Tom was still shrieking at the basilisk, and in the whirl of fear and panic and adrenaline, Ariel looked toward it.

But it was blinded. Its enormous eyes had been punctured, gouged, turned to a bloody mess on its face. Even though it was a giant monster snake, it was in agony. It reared, turned its ruined head toward them both, and surged. Ariel looked around wildly for her dad, who was struggling to stand, his eyes on her brother, wide and filled with terror.

“POTTER!” Her father roared, pushing himself off the floor, flying towards them, but it was too late –

Harry turned just as it was upon them, and thrust the sword upwards.

“NO!” Tom’s shout curdled Ariel’s blood, mixed with her own terrified shriek as she watched one of the basilisk’s fangs sink into her brother’s shoulder.

Her world went white.

The beast gave one last mighty roar, and then, with a shuddering groan, it’s massive head fell to the ground, making the entire Chamber shudder once more.

It was very still.

“That creature,” Tom emerged from behind the basilisk’s body, looking both triumphant and enraged, “was over a millennia old.”

Harry fell to the ground and crawled over to Ariel, holding his shoulder. His entire body seemed to slump forward. She could say nothing as she watched him, already realizing… basilisk’s venom…

Ariel reached for him, and his hand found hers.

"No matter," Tom said softly, "His sacrifice, at least, has ensured your death, Harry Potter. The basilisk's poison will kill you shortly… and then I'll take care of your sister, and be on my way.”

“No… no!” Ariel fumbled for her wand – she had to do _something –_ Harry Harry _Harry…_

There was something piping hot ripping away at her stomach. It was all her pain, all her anger, all of her hatred for the boy with the grey eyes and dark hair looking down at her. Ariel lifted her head, searching for her father, wanting to meet his eyes and be granted that final push, but he was still behind the pipes…

His face under that curse – empty, and yet filled to the brim with something that made her stomach churn violently. Harry’s now… his green eyes fighting to stay open, his hand still in hers as his grip lessened…

It turned out to be all Ariel needed.

“Or perhaps,” Tom said softly, pointing his wand right between her eyes. “I’ll just end you now. I’ve waited _so_ long…”

_“Sectumsempra!”_ Her father’s voice hissed from behind them, long and drawn out, like the basilisk’s.

Something wet hit her face, and for a minute, Ariel didn't recognize what it was until she looked back to Tom. He was holding his neck, blood seeping out of it. Her father was still holding his wand in place, turning it like he was trying to carve off Tom’s neck. It only seemed to work for a second, but it was just enough – it _had_ damaged him, but if spells could work on him, then that meant Ginny was running out of time…

Tom let out an awful shriek, his hands frantically trying to find the source of the bleeding.

As Harry lay panting, all of Ariel’s nerves on fire, her skin feeling so icy cold it burned, a dim thought pushed to the front of her mind –

The diary lay inches within her reach.

The sword, rubies red as blood and laden with moonlight, was touching her hand. She grabbed the hilt.

Tom gasped, holding his hand over the gash in his neck. “What are… what are you doing?”

She swung it upwards, holding it high above her head. Harry had dragged himself to her side.

“Helping you on your way.” said Ariel, smiling like Tom had. “Goodbye, Tom.”

And then she drove the sword straight into the diary.


	50. Paralysis

When he came to, Severus heard nothing but a name being called over and over again. There was the sound of something else too, though – the sound of screams filled his ears, roaring, a polyphony of darkness clawing and losing its way. The cacophony of defeat. It was sinister, and yet, desperate.

His limbs felt like they were being weighed down with bricks, the only proof of the Imperius that it would leave behind. His resistance was partly to blame – Severus had struggled with everything he had left after fighting off the Dark Lord’s command to cast _Crucio._ It had taken more than he’d thought… he’d never been under the Imperius before… never thought he’d have let himself. Allowing himself to feel that rush of emotions as he’d raised his wand had been all the Dark Lord needed to allow no wiggle room in Severus’ box.

_“Harry… Harry please wake up…”_ a voice was pleading – it filled him with a rush of fondness so strong that it felt like his chest would crack in two. _“Harry… Harry… please, Harry…”_

The stench of centuries – older than that, even – filled his nostrils. Severus threw himself off the ground, fear of the unknown nowhere to be found it the recesses of his heart. He slipped and climbed over the slippery ground, breaking his fall by gripping the damp pipes that the Dark Lord had thrown him behind.

_we mustn’t touch what isn’t ours_

Severus couldn’t see anything but a soft green glow up ahead, could hear noises –

He’d heard it countless times before, in a time when he’d been lost and unafraid and arrogant.

Severus hauled himself to his feet. Where was Ariel – where was his _child_ –

His head whipped around frantically as he stumbled forward, searching for the girl _where was the girl the girl the boy where had they gone…_

“Harry… Harry please…” he heard Ariel begging brokenly. She was kneeling in the water, the light bouncing off her red hair – alive.

_alive she was alive_

His boots splashed against the water as he catapulted to his daughter’s side, his eyes landing on the carcass lying in the very center, spanning the entire length of the Chamber. The Weasley girl was lying on the ground, copper hair spread out across the ground, motionless. The body of the basilisk – the ugly green scales shimmering in the eerie light, it’s massive mouth open, blood streaming from what had been its eyes…

Severus tried to call to her, but could not find her voice. Instead, he lurched forward, splashing through the muck – a mixture of water and blood and something black he couldn’t identify. Severus fell to his knees beside her, but it was as though Ariel didn’t realize it was him, didn’t see him. She was looking at Fawkes like he was responsible for the fallen basilisk lying behind them.

_Fawkes –_

His eyes flickered to the bird, who was standing across from them, watching. When he saw that Severus was staring at him, he chirped happily, but all Severus could do was choke back a shout that was slowly building in his throat. If Fawkes was here, then Dumbledore must have known… where… to _send him…_

Severus was going to throw him off the fucking Astronomy Tower.

He grabbed Ariel’s arm without a word, hauling her to her feet, wanting to take her and get her out of this place… the boy…  

_“No!”_ She let out a shriek and fell back down to Potter’s side.

The _boy —_

_His arm raised itself and the basilisk reared – the sword gleaming – and Severus felt his heart fall out of his chest as a fang ripped through his shoulder –_

He tried to say her name, but his voice seemed to have gone from him.

And then he saw Potter, really _saw_ him. There was blood and slime covering his face, his expression peaceful. Potter was as still as the Weasley girl.

No no _n o_

Severus’ hand found his wrist, feeling for a pulse…

It was there. Faint, but there, and getting stronger. He briefly noted that his hands were shaking.

“Is he…” Ariel grabbed Severus’ arm, finally acknowledging him, “he’s…”

“Alive.” He rasped, trying to wipe some of the muck from the boy’s face.

_Alive_

Someone coughed from behind them – She-Weasley. Ariel let out a gasp, her head practically spinning off her shoulders as she leapt to her feet and hurried over to her. Severus’ eyes did not leave Potter’s face. He could not… he was… the boy was…

He pulled the boys head into his lap, feeling his pulse growing stronger… but he wasn’t fucking _waking up –_

“Oh!” She-Weasley gasped, “Oh!”

“Ginny…” Ariel wheezed, “Ginny, are you alright?”

“I… oh! Oh, Ariel, I’m so s-sorry!” She began to sob, and Severus refused to look away from Potter’s still face, “It was t-the diary!”

“I know, Ginny, I’m –”

“Tom Riddle… I don’t know what happened… w-where are we?”

“The Chamber. He took you down here…”

She-Weasley began to weep loudly, “I d-don’t know what h-happened… one minute he was being so k-kind… I didn’t Petrify Colin or Justin, I only f-found Tom before C-Christmas…”

Lily’s son began to stir, his eyelids fluttering open. He groaned, and Severus found his hand wandering to hold the nape of the boy’s neck. His eyes fluttered open, and there was an unintelligible mumble of something that sounded like _“professor?”_

At the sight of those green eyes, everything crashed back into Severus at once, like all of his emotions had been compacted into a tiny ball and shoved back into his chest. All his rage and fear and panic and something stronger than all of those emotions, something that made him want to scream and hold the… _no…_ what was _wrong with…_

“Harry?” Ariel’s voice was beside Severus once more, her hand taking hold of his as she leaned down to help maneuver Potter upright, he wanted to tell her to _stay still,_ “Harry, are you –”

“I’m fine.” He shook his head and looked around blearily, “Riddle’s gone, then? What you… did… it worked?”

Severus grabbed his daughter’s arm, _hard,_ and looked directly into her eyes. He hadn’t seen what had happened – but the Dark Lord was gone, and he most certainly hadn’t left of his _own_ accord.

“What,” Severus asked, “did you _do?”_

Ariel froze, her eyes looking anywhere but his face, “Are you… referring to the dead monster snake… or…”

“The _Dark Lord.”_ He hissed. “My curse wouldn’t have been enough! Where _is_ he?”

“Oh,” Something twisted her lips that made his chest tighten, a look of sinister triumph – not on _her_ face…

Ariel reached across Potter and grabbed a _very_ familiar object.

Severus snarled and snatched the diary from her grasp. It had a large, black, gaping hole in the center. The black substance covering Ariel’s face and hands, Severus realized, was ink leaking from the pages. There was blood mixed in too, but he couldn’t tell if it was the Dark Lord’s or Potter’s, or a mixture of both.

“I stabbed it,” Ariel said quietly, “with this.”

He raised his eyes to find his daughter holding a sword in her hands, laden with silver like moonlight and rubies as red as her hair. He could practically hear a _sheen_ sound as the light reflected off of it. She’d… stabbed the diary… with it? Severus hadn’t even seen… he must’ve passed out momentarily after he watched the basilisk –

“Of course you did.” was all Severus could say. “Can you walk?” He looked to the boy. His voice sounded very far away, like it was being held hostage in a secret place.

Potter nodded and slowly stumbled to his feet, using the sword like a crux. Ariel grimaced, pushing off the ground with her hands, but the boy grabbed her arm to steady her.

 “It’s fine.” Ariel said, but her face twisted in pain. She panted, “I can walk just fine. G-Ginny needs…”

“I’m alright,” She-Weasley said faintly. She’d made her way over to them, trembling terribly.

“Help me up, Harry.” Ariel murmured. The boy offered her his hand, but she buckled, and Severus caught her, lifting her into his arms. “Dad, I can –”

“Not enough word,” He hissed through gritted teeth, “or so help me, I will do something I regret.”

Ariel shrank away from him, which was rather difficult, seeing as she was being held against him in an iron grip. Severus would have healed her ankle right there, but he wanted them out of there, far, far away, in the safety of somewhere else…

“Thank you.” Potter whispered, and when Severus looked back to him, he was stroking Fawkes’ feathers with the tips of his fingers. Fawkes gave an appreciate chirp and nuzzled him.

Severus gripped the boy’s shoulder, guiding him forward. She-Weasley took Potter’s hand, looking lost and frightened. Ariel wrapped her arms around his neck, but her eyes were only for her brother.

* * *

Snape wasn’t talking as he steered the three of them towards what Harry presumed to be Dumbledore’s office. He kept a gnarled hand on his shoulder – he hadn’t even _looked_ at Ginny. Ariel was leaning into him more than she had been, for Snape was carrying her, and Harry hadn’t realized it either, but so was he. When he did, however, he but an inch in between them, Snape’s nails still digging into his skin, and gave Ginny’s hand a reassuring squeeze.

Harry ached from head to toe, especially in his shoulder where the basilisk had gotten him.

When they reached the statue, Snape stopped suddenly, like he was suddenly contemplating something, but forced out _“butterscotch toffee”_ in a tone that could probably turn candy into ash.

Snape threw open the door to Dumbledore’s office with some much force that it actually came undone from it’s hinges. Ariel was watching him through wide eyes, like a deer trying to figure out if she were safe or if she should make a run for it.

_“GINNY!”_ Mrs Weasley’s voice shrieked.

Ginny lurched forward and into Mrs Weasley’s waiting arms and began to weep. Snape dropped Ariel into a chair, and looked at McGonagall, who had a supportive hand on Ginny’s mum’s shoulder.

“Where is Poppy?” Snape snarled, “Ariel’s ankle is broken.”

“I can wait.” Ariel said, “It’s Ginny who needs her –”

“Severus…” McGonagall looked stupefied, “Severus, what in Godric’s good name –”

“Oh, Ginny what _happened?”_ Mrs Weasley cried.

“You're still bleeding.” Snape grabbed Harry’s arm before he could move out of the man’s warpath, “Is the wound still open?”

_“Wound?”_ McGonagall was at his side. “What _happened,_ Severus?”

“Oh don’t worry,” Harry tugged his arm away, “that’s where the basilisk got me. Fawkes healed me.”

Something shattered. Harry jumped about a foot in the air. Ariel let out a startled yelp.

“Severus,” Dumbledore's voice called from somewhere Harry couldn’t see over the commotion, “may I have a word?”

“Oh no you –” Snape started, but the he was gone in a flurry of magenta and black robes. Ariel seemed to relax back into the chair, but then, straightened up and gave Harry an anxious look.

“Your arm?” His sister rasped, “It’s okay?”

Harry nodded, a bit numbly back, his eyes still locked on the door Dumbledore had practically dragged Snape behind. He couldn’t hear anything. The Headmaster had probably put up a Silencing spell.

“It’s m-my fault!” Ginny was sobbing, “It w-was that diary! F-Fred and George dared me to go catch a glimpse of Moaning Myrtle in the girl’s bathroom one night… I found the diary and Tom s-started talking to m-me –”

“So it was you who took it.” Ariel said quietly. Her eyes fell to her lap, voice thick with guilt.

“I’m s-so sorry.” Ginny looked back at them, “He wanted m-me to go to you… I thought it was an odd request, a-and when I s-said no…”

“It’s not your fault, Ginny.” Harry said gently. Mr and Mrs Weasley looked a mixture of bewildered and terrified.

“It’s mine.” Ariel said, gripping the sides of the chair Snape had put her in, “I… _found_ the diary before school started… it was me who Petrified Colin and Justin. I broke free of him the night you found the diary. I’m… I’m so sorry Ginny, I… I don’t even know how to show you…”

_“You?”_ Mrs Weasley questioned in a voice that held something akin to disgust. Harry noticed that her eyes flickered to the door Snape had disappeared behind.

“I’m sorry.” Ariel whispered, her voice cracking, “I’m sorry Ginny, I’m –”

“There’s no need for that.” A voice cut in. All the eyes in the room darted to the side, where Snape had disappeared, and found that Dumbledore had reentered the room, smiling widely down at Harry and Ariel. There was a twinkle in his eye Harry didn’t think suited the situation.

“Tom Riddle grew to deceive wizards and witches decades older and wiser than Ariel and Ginevra.” Dumbledore continued, looking directly at the Weasley’s now, “There will be no punishment, for either of them, though Ariel knows this already.

“Sir,” Harry said before Ariel could argue, “Riddle… he mentioned… H-Hermione… is she okay?”

Dumbledore walked forward, and put a comforting hand on his shoulder, “I’m afraid Miss Granger fell victim to Tom. She was coming to warn Professor Snape, I believe, that Ginevra was under his influence.”

It was like lead ball was working its way through his intestines, stringing them together, tangling them, pressing against the wall of his stomach and trying to break free.

“Hermione…” Ginny whispered.

“She’ll be just fine, once Professor Sprout deems the mandrake roots ready for use.” Dumbledore smiled kindly, his blue eyes reassuring.

“Sir,” Ariel asked quietly, her eyes staring a hole into the floor, “can you let my dad out?”

He chuckled, but hesitated, “Of course – I was trying to spare you. I’m sure he’d like to accompany you to the infirmary so that Madam Pomfrey can look you both over.” With a short wave of his hand, the door unlocked with a _click,_ and Snape emerged.

He was looking at Dumbledore the way Quirrell-Mort had looked at them last year when Harry had refused to give him the Stone. Ariel was biting her lip, wiping her mangled hair out of her face and smearing ink all over it in the process.

Snape said nothing as he glided over, ignoring the glare of Mrs Weasley and the troubled look on McGonagall’s face, and plucked Ariel from the chair. His sister didn’t protest this time.

“Come.” He said to Harry coldly, and he followed without a backwards glance.

.

The castle was dark and silent, save the frantic beating of Severus’ heart and the air that whistled through his bared teeth. He couldn’t think clearly, and so his mental barriers had erected themselves like they had when Ariel had first told him about this entire nightmare. He could without feeling, his mind simply telling his legs to move and lungs to continue filling with the icy winter air. There was something oddly comforting about them – Severus would never take them for granted again for as long as he lived.

He carried the girl down to the hospital wing, keeping a gnarled hand on the boy, because it felt like something inside of him might snap if he let them go.

Poppy was waiting for them, her kind face oddly grim. Dumbledore must have Floo’d down and let her know he was coming, trying to make up for what he’d done, for _knowing_ where the chamber lay and yet not –

“Her ankle is broken.” Severus said tonelessly as he put Ariel down onto a bed, “And Potter shoved his arm in a basilisk’s mouth.”

“Fawkes healed me.” Potter muttered as Poppy ushered him onto the bed beside his sister’s. “And I _killed_ that basilisk – you’re welcome.”

Something inside of Severus said Potter was _fine,_ he’d felt his pulse and the boy was walking and talking, but all he’d heard was _that’s were the basilisk got me,_ and the world went blood red and his fury had overpowered him for a split second, and the next thing he knew, the old coot had locked him behind a door, away from the children, away from _his_ child, _her_ child because he thought Severus needed to _calm down –_

Dumbledore hadn’t had to watch, helpless, as those children suffered under the Cruciatus. He hadn’t been forced to listen to his taunts… watch the basilisk’s fangs rip right through Lily’s son’s arm and the Dark Lord point his wand right at his daughter –

Poppy sighed as she inspected Potter’s arm first, vanishing the blood and pulling aside the tattered remnants of his robes, “Phoenix tears did just the trick, it seems. You’ll have only a scar.”

_Only a scar they’d survived that night with only a fucking scar they’d survived him twice now with another scar another memory another –_

“As for your ankle...” Poppy tuned to Ariel and ran her wand down the length of it. Ariel winced, gripping the bedsheets, but an expression of relief fell over her face as the matron muttered an incantation Severus didn’t recognize.

They’d been dragged down to the chamber, assaulted by the Dark Lord, fought a fucking basilisk, destroyed him and they were walking away with a goddamn scar and a healed broken ankle.

_They were unfairly lucky and Severus thanked any deity listening for it but felt his foundation tremble and reel because they would surely not be so lucky if they continued to do so she was he was she was so reckless so reckless so reckless and foolish and –_

“She needs to stay off of it.” Poppy told him, “For at least twelve hours, and then she’ll be right as rain.”

He’d chain her to her bed if it kept her from moving and doing something more to harm herself.

“Now – _you.”_ Poppy looked straight at him. _“Sit._ ”

“I’m _fine –_ take care of _them!”_ Severus snarled.

“No you’re not!” Ariel interjected. “Tom sent that Stunner at you – and that spell –”

“It doesn’t _matter!”_ He thundered – his hands were shaking so badly that it was beginning to make him feel nauseous. “You are both _injured_ – Potter’s _arm –”_

“Severus, Mr Potter is just fine.” There was a hand forcing him down onto a cot. “Were you hurt?”

“Yes.” said Ariel and Potter in unison. Something in it caused the last of Severus’ composure – or what was left of it, anyway – to shatter.

“I am _FINE!”_ Severus shouted, his vision blurring. “They – they almost _DIED_ less than an hour ago! Stop wasting time and do your _fucking job!”_

“Severus,” Poppy said, looking uncertain, her eyes flickering to the entrance. “Ariel and Harry are just fine. It’s _you_ that looks ill.”

Severus couldn’t find it in himself to stand another second. He fell onto the bed behind him, rubbing a hand across his face to hide how badly he was trembling. His entire body felt like a live wire – like he had been doused in ice water. _Fucking_ Imperius – ripping his Shields from him when he’d least been expecting… the Dark Lord, sixteen years old and a mere boy –

“Imperius?” Poppy asked quietly.

Severus could only nod numbly.

“The after affects can be rather disorienting.” Poppy sighed, giving him an empathetic smile that made Severus want to rip off his fingernails. “I’ll give you something… unless you’d rather a Sleeping Draught.”

“If you drug me,” said Severus. “I’ll burn this castle to the ground.”

She sighed again, though there were traces of a smirk as she whisked out of the curtain-made room. Severus finally looked back to Ariel and Potter, who were watching him with wide, worried eyes. They looked lost, in a childish sort of way, so unlike the boy who’d thrust his sword upwards,

_the boy had slain a fucking BASILISK_

and the girl who had defied the Dark Lord, even as his figures knotted in her hair and he humiliated her…

“Stop that,” He snapped halfheartedly. “I’m _fine.”_

Ariel sniffled, throwing her legs over the side of the cot, as if she was going to _walk over_ on her _shattered ankle –_ he’d been forced to watch the Dark Lord _laugh at her_ while she struggled to stand –

“Don’t you dare, Ariel Rose.” Severus warned.

She froze, like a deer caught in headlights. But then her hurt turned into a determined grimace, like the one she’d worn down in the Chamber, and crossed the space between them, climbed up beside him and leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Jesus Christ, girl.” Severus growled. “Why can’t you do as you’re told for once?”

Ariel responded by wrapping her arms around his bicep. Severus felt some of the tension leave the half of his body she was curled up against, the other half disturbingly numb. It made him feel worse, at the same time it made him feel better, though he’d never admit it. When Poppy returned, she had a vial of something dark red – his guard immediately went up, not recognizing it.

“What is this?” Severus sniffed it suspiciously. “I didn’t brew this.”

“The Headmaster recommended it – he says its of his own invention.”

_Fawkes he’d known where to send Fawkes_

“Then I’m not drinking it.” He said.

“Dad,” Ariel tugged on his arm. _“please.”_

“I already _told_ all of you,” Severus tried to shake her off, but she held on tighter. “I’m _fine._ I don’t need Dumbledore’s sodding potions –”

“You do, actually.” Poppy said, very matter-of-factly. “You look like your about to keel over. Stop being so stubborn and heed your daughter. You’ll feel better.”

He felt like he was about to pass out, for longer, this time, instead of that haze the Dark Lord had swept him into. Severus struggled to stand, ready to tell Dumbledore exactly _where_ he could put his potions, when Ariel tugged him back onto the cot. The fact that she was stronger than he at the moment should have told Severus to just suck it up, but he was furious – with himself, with Dumbledore, the Dark Lord, and Lucius mother _fucking_ Malfoy –

The only thing Severus could feel at this point was Potter’s eyes watching him with that annoying closeness, like he was under scrutiny, like he was afraid that Severus – that _Severus –_

“Severus.”

He turned, inky black hair whipping about his face. Dumbledore was standing at the foot of Potter’s bed. Severus had no idea where he’d come from, when he’d gotten here, how much he’d heard, but he wanted him _out_ because he was so powerless and Dumbledore had _known –_

“I thought you’d like to know,” Dumbledore said, “that Lucius Malfoy has just left my office.”

Severus went very still. His breathing quickened. His fingers tingled, and the world around him seemed to melt away. A surge of adrenaline rushed through him, the tremors subsiding as Severus rose.

“Dad?” Ariel was calling him, but he didn’t hear her as he mindlessly headed for the door, “Dad –”

He ignored her – he’d be heading for the main exit – yes, that’d be the quickest.

“Dad –”

“Take them to my quarters.” Severus told Dumbledore – no, he wouldn’t leave them with him after this. He turned to Minerva, who had appeared, “Take them there and wait for me to return.”

And then he left, and let his shields partially crumble to dust.

* * *

The rock, Damon had come to the conclusion, was far less enjoyable when Ariel was not with him.

Life in general had become rather dull since the start of term. His best friend was gone – Damon had no idea where Ariel was or what was wrong with her, if that part was even true. Mono his arse. He’d overheard a group of Muggleborns talking about it, and apparently, they’d said through their snickers, you got it through kissing, and Damon might not have seen her in nearly two months, but he sure as hell knew that Ariel wasn’t _snogging_ anybody. Harry hadn’t so much as looked at him, though Damon could tell it had nothing to do with him not telling him about the Chamber anymore.

He was trying to fight the impending feeling of abandonment, but it was growing harder and harder to contain.

Harry didn’t owe him answers – if this had something to do with Lucius, then Harry probably thought it best to keep him out of the loop. Or maybe Ariel had even told him that. She’d always been good at trying to shield him from the prejudices other Houses held against him simply because his mother had been Bellatrix Lestrange – _was._

At least, that’s what Damon told himself. He hadn’t told them why he did the things he did either. Ariel had asked him why he and Draco were two completely different sides of the same coin.

Damon couldn’t tell her. Not yet. If Ariel ever came _back…_

The sound of a conversation drowned out the rest of his thoughts, like a flame doused.

“He wanted to return it to me.” a voice seethed, “Meddling old Gryffindor. You should have seen the look in his eyes – I’ll never be held accountable, but looked at me like I’d been served to him.”

_Speak of the devil_ , his conscious snorted.

_Lucius?_ What the –

Damon couldn’t help but let out a startled gasp, his mind automatically yelling at him to _hide hide hide get out of sight hide._ He slipped down the front of the rock, a little ledge just underneath it. It was right below the edge; Damon would have made his way down to the bottom, but Lucius and whoever he was with sounded like there were _right there –_

“So you admit involvement then?” another said, “You told me the girl would get her dues back in September, if you recall.”

_... Snape?_ What the hell were the two of them doing in the middle of the Forest? At _his_ rock?

“I’d been meaning to get rid of that diary.” Lucius sighed, like Snape’s question was bothersome, “With all the raids the Ministry’s been dishing out lately… Narcissa and I thought it would be for the best. The Dark Lord entrusted it to me a year or so before his fall.”

“And you thought you’d impart it on to a child for safekeeping?” Something burned underneath Snape’s voice. If Lucius heard it too, he didn’t let on.

“I had an idea, knew the Dark Lord had once purged the school. Consider it a… _leap of faith.”_

And then Lucius paused, “What the hell are you doing, Severus?”

“I’m showing you how she suffered because of your ambition.” Snape said in a voice so cold that Damon felt his own heart skip a bit, felt the feeling flee his hands, _“Crucio.”_

A wail pierced the early morning air, several creatures rustling and letting out cries of warning at the foreign sounds Lucius was uttering. Damon threw a hand over his mouth to stifle his breathing, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to drown out the noises, shut it out, make it _stop._

When the screams stopped, he heard the sound of chuckling, mixed with something wet, “Well, well, it seems that you _have_ gone soft, Severus. Tell me, did you switch sides before or after you realized you wanted to fuck the Mudblood’s daughter?”

Someone’s boots – Snape’s – clunked against the rock, and Lucius groaned. There was a sickening _crack,_ and there was another wail. Damon’s heart thrummed at a pace he didn’t think possible. It filled his ears and he could feel it in his hands and face.

_“My_ daughter.” Snape hissed, long and drawn out, like a snake’s.

“Daughter?” Lucius sneered, “Have you gone and decided to play _daddy_ to the Girl-Who-Lived, then?”

“I’m surprised you hadn’t figured it out sooner.” Snape drawled, another _crack_ and groan to accompany the dialogue, “It _is_ common knowledge that she grew up at Hogwarts. Did you really think you’d get away with this, Lucius? That someone wouldn’t come looking and find someone to pin this on? Come now, I didn’t think you _that_ dense.”

Damon clutched at the grass poking out from the underside of the rock. He wanted to look – wanted to see what the hell was going on. Snape had mentioned his daughter – Ariel? What had Lucius _done?_

The _threat,_ he thought.

His stomach rolled. 

“And I didn’t think you so pathetically _weak.”_ Lucius spat back, “You were the spy the Dark Lord had convinced had infiltrated our ranks, then? All for what-- the love of a daughter? She isn’t _yours,_ Severus. She’s Potter’s. You’re willing to –”

His speech cut off once more… a sharp gasp, something tore…

“You gave her that diary.” Snape’s voice was liquid nitrogen.

_Diary?_ Damon’s blood turned to ice water. They couldn’t… not the one he’d seen her writing in all this time… no…

“Did _she_ come to that conclusion?” Lucius sneered, “I _did_ tell her she would learn a lesson. It seems you lack in the area of discipline, Severus.”

“Did you know what would happen? Did you know what the Dark Lord would do to her? That he would take her apart piece by piece and then _kill her?”_

“She led to the downfall of our Master!” Lucius hissed, “Both of those little Halfblood _brats_ should be dead! Of all people, I thought _you_ would have wanted it – wanted to stop playing lapdog, but it seems you’ve assumed an even worse role.”

“Did you really think,” There was so much venom in Snape’s voice it was a wonder it didn’t kill Lucius with it’s potency, “that you’d get away with this?”

“What are you going to do, Snape?” Lucius snorted, “Kill me?”

Well, maybe it would.

“No,” Snape said softly, “I’m going to ensure you don’t harm with her, or the boy, _or_ my cover, _again.”_

He began to mutter a string of Latin, words Damon couldn’t make out, even with all of the tutoring Narcissa and Lucius had forced him through. He spoke it like a song, strong and steady. It sounded like he wasn’t even taking breaks to _breathe._

And then Snape stopped. Damon listened for Lucius to say something, but there was no response from his uncle. Not even another moan of pain.

_“Obliviate.”_ Snape hissed, and then, _“Imperio.”_

His back began to scream as he pressed himself against the wall of the rock. That was two Unforgivables. He’d used _two_ of them… if Damon moved so much as in inch…

“You will return home.” Snape’s voice was flat flat _flat_ , “And you will tell no one of this. You will never speak of this meeting, or of your involvement in the Chamber of Secrets – not even to the Dark Lord. _Go.”_

He heard Lucius rise, the _crack_ of Apparition – they could Apparate here?

Snape lingered for a moment, and Damon hated every agonizing second of it. His lungs nearly collapsed when he finally heard him leave, the billow of his robes audible.

Damon rose from behind his hiding spot underneath the rock. He could not think clearly, nor could he keep his breathing even because of what had just unfolded above him, inches away, right above his head.

The rock was supposed to be for thinking. Not threatening.

Damon had a lot to think about.


	51. Water Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Water Night -- Eric Whitacre

Her father wasn’t talking to them.

After Quirrell and the Stone last year, Ariel had learned that Severus utilized this coping mechanism when he was afraid, or rather, when he’d _been_ frightened, and then became _actually_ angry, but knew that he couldn’t express that anger without saying something that would most likely hurt her, or Harry, for that matter. She’d wondered what he’d said to Lucius, but by the expression on his face when he’d come back, it probably wasn’t best. She didn’t think she wanted to know, anyways.

For tonight, Ariel didn’t mind. There were too many thought and emotions flickering through her mind for her to handle her father _and_ brother _and_ Ginny…

And Hermione.

Her brother hadn’t said a word to her since the Headmaster’s office. Severus had returned from talking to Lucius, or whatever he’d gone and done, and Ariel hadn’t dared to try and ask him. The half-mad expression on his face hadn’t faded, and it was enough to make paint peel, to make her bones rattle. Harry had been smart enough to realize that as well, and had wordlessly obeyed as her father had ordered them both to bed.

They were lying in _her_ bed now – it was very early in the morning. Ariel had heard her father disconnect the Floo network about an hour ago, and then, his bedroom door slam. She wondered why he seemed to be so mad at Dumbledore, but at the moment, that was the least of her problems.

She could hear Harry breathing deeply, but could tell he wasn’t asleep. They were both lying on their sides, Ariel facing the room, Harry the wall. Their backs were pressed up against one another. Her mind kept replaying what had happened down in the Chamber over and over again, like one of those Muggle film rolls.

_She told me how you stayed with them, how your privileged sister got a father and a Pureblood upbringing – the life you should have had_

They’d never really discussed it before. Sure, Ariel had told Harry of how if she could have, she’d gone to live with him if it had been her choice. She didn’t know if that were true anymore – would she have given up a life with her father? How would Severus had spent his years if Ariel hadn’t been with him? Both of them would have suffered… and so would have Ariel, if she’d gone to live with Petunia, but would have done it with her brother at her side.

Harry knew very little of the whole truth. Perhaps if he knew… but who was Riddle to suggest Harry was bitter? He’d never acted as so, but then again, Harry often acted like his feelings were secondary. In the heat of a moment, Ariel would often forget and reflect back on it, wonder what Harry was feeling. She couldn’t tell him Severus was her biological father – Ariel couldn’t taint the happy family in the pictures for him. Truthfully, Ariel _knew_ they’d all been happy, but Harry didn’t. He remembered nothing, and she very little.

What Ariel _did_ remember were flashes of Harry in strange places around the time Tom had begun to control her. Behind a desk… even in his _bedroom,_ a place Ariel didn’t dare enter unless she had a _very_ good reason. But why would Harry do such a thing?

“Did you believe the things he said?” asked Ariel.

Harry peeked over the back of his shoulder, “Could you be more specific, or am I guessing?”

She gave him a look, but smirked as he rolled over to look at her. Her eyes fell to the comforter, “I know it’s stupid to ask… it’s none of my business, really, especially after everything that’s happened…”

“What is it, Ariel?”

“You know my dad and I care about you, right? I know Dad isn’t… after how he treated you at the start of last year… but I’ve been figuring out how to decode why he does what he does and how he does it, and Harry, he wouldn’t have checked up on you as often as he did when we were kids if he didn’t care… I think he’s half out of his mind right now because you killed the basilisk.”

“You said it was because you made a fuss about making sure I was alright.” Harry’s eyes narrowed.

“Yes,” Ariel propped herself up on her elbow. “but dad never told me. If he wasn’t reporting to me, or even Dumbledore, then why bother going?”

“So, what?” He gave her a doubtful half-glare. “Snape secretly _likes_ me?”

“I don’t think he realizes it, but yeah. I do.”

“Yeah, okay Ariel.” Harry rolled his eyes and turned back over towards the wall.

“I’m being serious!” She shook his arm. “You think I’d lie to you about something like that?”

“You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“No – I’m trying to show you that what Tom said wasn’t true.”

“Why does it _matter?”_ Harry snapped, but the look in his eyes took away some of the certainty in his voice. “You should know better than anyone that Tom was full of it. Why would _I_ believe what he said?”

Because Harry _had –_ but Ariel couldn’t say that. That look in his eyes… like he was being shoved back underwater after being saved from drowning. It reminded him of another boy… one she’d seen in memories, brief glimpses of the way he looked at her mum.

Ariel decided to take a different route.

She lifted her eyes to meet his, black mixing with holly green, “I… remember you in dad’s bedroom… with a letter… I think. Bits and pieces…”

“What's your point?” Harry asked in a very quiet voice. He wasn’t looking at her anymore.

“Were _you_ … in his room?” Ariel asked him, wishing he would meet her imploring gaze.

Her brother sighed, shoving his arms behind his head. He looked up at the ceiling. She could see his small Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

“I didn’t believe he knew Mum.” said Harry.

Surprised, Ariel sat up and looked down at him. Harry still didn’t meet her eyes, and she could see that he was fighting the urge to, as well as keep a straight face. His lips were trembling, brow creased. 

Her secondary reaction, other than shock, was humor. Ariel wanted to laugh – _I didn’t believe he knew Mum –_ Severus had done _so_ much more than simply _know_ her. The confession of things left unspoken since that night last December were suddenly on the tip of her tongue, the story of Lily and Severus and how much deeper everything was below the calm surface.

“He did.” Ariel said instead, “Dad wouldn’t have lied to you about that.”

“I know that _now.”_ Harry nearly snapped back, an annoyed edge to his voice, “It… doesn’t make any sense.”

_“What_ about it doesn’t make sense?” She fell back against the pillow, exasperated.

_“Snape_ doesn’t.”

“Harry, if you’re just _now_ realizing that my father doesn’t function like a _normal –”_

“I found letters.” Harry interrupted, finally turning to look at her. They’d switched position, her eyes raking over the crack in the ceiling and feeling Harry’s eyes studying her instead, “It’s obvious they were friends, okay? I was wrong. I knew he wouldn’t tell me anything if I asked, so I snooped.”

“Letters?” Ariel quirked an eyebrow at him.

He bit his lip and nodded, “That trunk in his room – they were in there.”

It took her a moment for his words to register. The image flashed to the front of her mind, along with herself. Ariel had only been a kid, five or six, at the time, when she’d first noticed it. She’d managed to lift the heavy top and sift through it before her father had come in and nearly had a conniption. She was quite certain it was the only time he’d come close to taking her over his knee and spanking her, but the next thing Ariel had known, she was facing the wall until her bedtime. Severus later told her that he’d warded and locked the trunk, and that if he ever saw her near it again, she’d be sorry.

Needless to say, Ariel had wondered about it from time to time, but curiosity was _not_ enough to kill the cat, in that regard.

She sat up like a bullet, “You got that _open? How?”_

“You… or, er, Riddle.”

Of course. Gods, it was a wonder her father hadn’t noticed that. Or perhaps he had and she didn’t remember because Tom had been in control. Either way, if he knew or even _suspected,_ they’d both be dead.

“Are you going to tell him?” Harry asked, looking deeply ashamed. His unruly hair had fallen into his face.

“Merlin, no.” Ariel rolled her eyes, and pushed his hair out of his, “I _like_ having a brother, thank you very much.”

“Then why are you asking?”

“Because I wanted to know if what Riddle said in the Chamber was true.”

“Are you going to ask me if I secretly hate you because you got a father and I didn’t next?”

“I don’t know.” She wet her lips, and held her breath, “Do you?”

“No.” Harry said shortly, “I don’t. We’ve talked about this.”

“Not really.”

“Would you _like_ to?”

“If it needs to be talked about, then yes.”

_“Fine.”_ Harry huffed, sitting up and crossing his arms, glaring, “Then _yes,_ maybe sometimes I _do_ get angry – maybe when I hear about how happy you were when you were little… with such a _git_ like him, it makes my head spin. It makes me wonder about if we somehow could have _both_ been happy, and then I feel selfish for wanting you with me at the Dursley’s, because then we _both_ would have been miserable and clueless. And then I think about how utterly _useless_ it all is, because Snape doesn’t like me much anyway, he has _you,_ and you have him. When Riddle was… when _he_ was _you_ I thought maybe… you didn’t want me anymore… because the school thought I was evil and maybe you did too…”

“I could never hate you.” Ariel said quietly.

“I just feel like sometimes we don’t know each other as well as we think we do.” Harry whispered.

He was crying. Ariel could hear it in his voice, feel the vibrations of his unsteady tone bounce off of her heart, see the tears drip down his face.

She did the only thing she could do without crying herself, and pulled him close so that his head rested in her lap and her fingers stroked his hair. They’d never been this close before, never been ones to hug like other siblings might, but in moments as this, words failed. It felt right.

Neither of them said anything for a very long time.

“I used to look forward to him coming to see me.” Harry finally broke the blissful quiet, clearing his throat. “When I was little, I mean. I started figuring out he didn’t like me when I got older, but I knew that things were going to be okay whenever he came. Aunt Petunia wouldn’t try and hide me away as much after he came… I’d get full meals instead of Dudley’s leftovers.”

“I’m so sorry.” Ariel rasped, fighting back the lump in her throat. “I should’ve fought more…”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not _fair!”_

“That still doesn’t make it _your_ fault.”

Ariel didn’t know what to say to make Harry feel better. Her chest felt like it was being crushed – like a Hagrid-sized fist had reached inside and squeezed her heart. She felt her responsibility hanging over her head like a weight about to be dropped. Yes, Ariel had only been a kid, but she still could have done _something._ Why had it taken her seeing Harry when she went to sleep for her curiosity to pique enough to do something about it? Why had she simply taken her father’s word instead of challenging… why hadn’t she realized that something hadn’t been right?

It made her feel unworthy, like Tom had pointed out. She was the product of a meeting that should have never have taken place… even if her mum and James hadn’t been together… Harry would hate her if he ever knew the truth. Ariel was an accident, and she’d gotten Hogwarts. Harry had been something good and sanctified, and he got stuck with their mum’s awful, magic-hating sister. What was _just_ about that, in _any_ light?

“Why doesn’t Snape talk about Mum?” Harry tore Ariel out of her inner torment for the time being.

Ariel sighed, _“Because,_ Harry.”

“So you _do_ know something more.” His tone turned accusatory, “You know more about their friendship. He told you more.”

_Yes yes yes we’re lying to you but it’s to protect –_

“Well, yeah. I practically forced it out of him.” Ariel said quietly.

“When he hated me?”

“Yes.”

“What, then? Why does he feel so… so _obligated?_ What does he owe Mum?”

“They were best friends, Harry.” Ariel said, her voice faltering a bit.

“But he _hated_ Dad.”

_Go out with me, and I’ll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again_

“Yes,” She finally looked back to him, his face a muddled mess of confusion, “you still don’t see it, do you?”

Harry blinked, “See _what?”_

Ariel turned back to him, trying to convey it with her eyes, because quite honestly, she didn’t know if she could form the words, let alone make them come out of her mouth.

She saw it in his eyes when he realized. It was like a thick curtain rose from in front of his eyes, clarity giving way to understanding, and a certain amount of… veneration wasn’t the right word, no. It was more like…

“Oh.” was all Harry said, _“oh.”_

_“Yeah.”_ Ariel said.

It was enough for him, Ariel told herself. Harry wouldn’t dare bring it up, and Severus would never know. There was only so much she could take… it didn’t _feel_ like a betrayal. It didn’t burn away at her insides and claw at her throat.

“Ariel?”

“Mmmm?”

“You’re not messing with me, right?”

She threw a pillow at him, and the sound of him chuckling was the last thing Ariel heard before sleep overcame her, her brother’s head resting on her shoulder, where it belonged.

* * *

It was early the next morning when Ariel crawled out of bed, careful not to wake up Harry, and quietly tip-toed across her quarters to her father’s bedroom. She quietly turned the knob of his door, just in case, by some miracle, Severus _was_ asleep. Ariel would rather have more time to lie in bed and plan out her resolution where her father was concerned – would have preferred _days –_ but she didn’t think she could stand to rise in a couple of hours and have to deal with him being cold and distant.

He _was_ awake, as Ariel expected, lying on his back and staring straight up at the ceiling. She stood in the doorway for a minute or so, waiting for him to say something, for him to wave her forward, but he did absolutely nothing. It was like he hadn’t noticed her there.

Ariel sighed and shut the door, climbing onto the side of the bed he wasn’t inhabiting.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Ariel sat cross-legged next to him, pulling an unused pillow into her lap. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Severus still said nothing, but Ariel could see a vein in his neck begin to pulsate aggressively.

“You didn’t have to do what you did down there.” Her throat constricted, and it reminded her of Tom’s imaginary hand. “You must’ve been… I’m sorry that happened to you. The last thing I wanted was for you and Harry to get hurt… and we _all_ got dragged down to the Chamber… you got mind-controlled, and Harry almost died.”

Severus looked at her, his eyes practically igniting a fire with the intensity in which they were glaring at her. Ariel could clearly hear the words _“STOP WORRYING ABOUT ME”_ panging around in her head.

Ariel didn’t say anything after that. She shoved the pillow behind her head and and laid back, gazing up at the ceiling. She felt Severus glaring at her, but knew that he probably needed a moment or so before saying anything that wouldn’t escalate the one-sided conversation into something much more unpleasant.

“You could have died.” Her father finally said, when Ariel thought he had decided to give her the silent treatment, a Severus favorite in order to show he was mad – it was usually reserved for Dumbledore. “I thought… when he was holding you by the hair… I thought… and _Potter…_ with that damn sword –”

They could have, yes, Ariel knew that. She would have died if it meant defeating Riddle and keeping him and Harry safe. Ariel had accepted that back when Riddle had first started screaming inside her head. She thought she _would_ the night Harry found her in the girl’s loo.

Ariel wasn’t going to tell Severus that, though, because she was still trying to protect him in her own way.

“Yes.” Ariel conceded, nodding. “You could have too.” 

Severus groaned, and then cursed, several times, in fact. She didn’t say anything, but part of her wondered if he’d always sworn and she hadn’t noticed, or if her near-death experiences had initiated this phenomenon.

“It felt good,” She told him when his eyes had closed, like he was fighting off another string of swearing, “to kill him… or that part of him, at least. Not the giant monster snake almost killing Harry and you and Riddle making us go to the Chamber part.”

Her father peered back at her, his lip curled, “Forgive me if I don’t find you both almost _dying_ a rationale for _fighting the psychotic madman._ There are other ways to reach catharsis.”

“It had to be me.” Ariel said quietly, “It started with me, and it had to end there. For Ginny… for Harry…”

“For Merlin’s sake, girl, how many times do I have to tell you that this _wasn’t your fault?”_

“You can say it as many times as you want.” Ariel told him, “But that doesn’t change the fact that if I _hadn’t_ kept the diary from you, this _wouldn’t_ have happened.”

Now her father turned, his black eyes stone cold and void of any light.

“And what was I to do,” He said, “if the Dark Lord had killed you, or Potter? Don’t you think that I, more than anyone, would want to see him stopped in order to keep you both _safe?”_

“This is the second time he’s come back.” Ariel said, “If he wanted us dead when we were babies…”

Severus’ face went the exact shade of bad milk. The muscles in his face clenched.

“All I’m saying is that if you thought you… didn’t do enough…” She felt her eyes prick. “you got _hurt_ because of _me!”_

“Ariel!” Her father grabbed her, gave her a shake, and hissed, _“stop!_ Just _stop it!_ I don’t know where you get such thoughts. Ginevra Weasley was as foolish and unknowing as you, yes, but she made the same choice you did. You are a child, albeit one that doesn’t know her limits, but if anyone should have known, it should have been me. _I_ should have stayed here with you and made sure you were protected instead of going to see the latest victim. Don’t tell me it’s not my damn _job…_ for Merlin’s _sake_ Ariel!” Severus let go of her and covered his eyes with his hand.

He went very still.

“I’m sorry,” Ariel reached for him, her voice thick, “Dad, I’m sorry.”

“Stop.” He said heavily, _“Apologizing.”_

She clamped her mouth shut and hung her head. She’d messed this up. He was never going to forgive her – never going to let this go. He’d done it when it first happened – miraculously. Severus had told her she’d made the sun rise for him.

Ariel hadn’t realized it, but as she slowly slid off the bed, her hands felt something wet fall against them – tears. _Great._ She’d wanted to show her father that she alright, strong, so unlike what Riddle had said to her in the Chamber about her being _weak_ and _useless._ Perhaps Tom was right… maybe she did deserve to be punished…

“Where are you going?” Severus called wearily.

Ariel turned in the doorway, frantically wiping away her tears, “I… I just thought…”

“You keep just _doing_ things before thinking!” He shook his head, his hair hanging about his face like a curtain, “Come _here,_ Ariel.”

Her feet dragged as she made her way back to him, biting the inside of his check to keep herself from crying any more. He wordlessly held out his arm, and Ariel stared at it uncomprehendingly for a minute until she realized that he meant to embrace her.

She fell against him and laid her head against his sternum. Her arms wormed their way around his chest.

“I thought I was going to lose you.” His voice sounded strangled. “I’ve wanted nothing but to see you safe, and I couldn’t give the two of you even _that_ much…”

Ariel didn’t know how to respond to that. If it hadn’t been for Fawkes…

She felt helpless, even more powerless than she had under Tom, then. It almost frightened her, to see him this way, because Severus was strong and poised and in control. The weight of Tom’s spell… the power over him… what he’d said down in the Chamber, and watching Harry almost die –

Ariel only had one thing that she could give him… something she’d never said. It was something you didn’t know to say out loud, because Ariel figured that her father already knew it. She’d almost been afraid to every tell him, because Severus had never said it. It was almost like she wasn’t _allowed,_ because she truly didn’t know how her father would react.

“Dad?” Ariel asked quietly, taking a leap of faith.

He didn’t respond.

“I love you.” Ariel said into his shoulder. “You know that, right?”

He gripped her arms, and for a split second, Ariel was scared that he was pushing her away, going to tell her to leave. Severus pried her off of him, and she felt her throat close so tightly that it was borderline painful. He was going to block her out again – pull away and hide in that secret place she couldn’t go… the place where his eyes met the Mirror, where he kept her mum.

Her father stared back at her, his face on the edge of something Ariel didn’t know how to identify – it was like something a breath away from becoming cruelty. Her breathing hitched.

“My girl,” He brushed her tears away with his thumb. “you are incomprehensible, but I wouldn’t have you any other way.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Alright ladies and gents – we have finished CoS! Next chapter we will continue year two and wrap up some loose ends, and then they’ll be a summer chapter before we begin PoA. This chapter was supposed to be one big one, but doc manager is a piece of shit on FF, so I had to split it up.
> 
> This is my last week off, and we have about 14 chapters of PoA ready to go (which, btw, I am keeping exactly the same, in case any old readers are wondering). I haven’t decided what I’m doing yet in regards to uploading, but I’ll let you know what the plan is for daily uploads as we near the end of this week.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has left reviews, especially those on every chapter. You guys are seriously awesome – I can’t wait to get back to where we left off!! Please – any suggestions are welcome – stuff you’d like to see, for PoA, or just in general, since I haven’t finished PoA just yet, so please review! Xx


	52. Brightside

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Alright friends, I shit you not, I tried to upload all of PoA I have done, and doc manager on FF crashed. It’s a miracle I’m getting this chapter uploaded at all. It’s pretty testy most of the time, but apparently trying to upload more than 2 chapters is a big no-no. So all I can offer is this chapter for today… tomorrow we’ll start summer hols, and then, PoA. 
> 
> And to clarify, there WILL be daily uploads for the remainder of the week! I’m not sure if I’ll be continuing DAILY uploads after this week, since I go back to university.

The next morning was awkward, to say the least. Ariel had gone back to her room so that Harry wouldn’t wake up and see her gone, only to find him sitting up and waiting for her. She’d quickly muttered that she’d gone to use the loo, but he gave her a look that told Ariel he didn’t buy _that_ for one second. His eyes were still red from crying hours before. Ariel wondered if she looked the same. She desperately needed a shower, and a plate of hot food. She felt hollow.

Breakfast had been even stranger. The three of them had spoken until Harry unexpectedly looked up and said, “Since Riddle is gone, does that mean the castle is safe?”

Her father had looked between the two of them. Ariel had given Harry a look that told him to stop while he was ahead.

“Why?” Severus had asked, looking too tired to be wary. He was already on his third cup of coffee.

“I want to show Ariel something.” Harry told him, indifferent.

To her surprise, her father looked contemplative. He set down his mug, and looked between the two of them, something akin to defeat in his face, but also calculation. Her father hadn’t let her out of his _sight,_ let alone leave his quarters since –

“Go.” He jerked his head at the door, “Be back in an hour. Avoid people.”

Ariel had gawked, but Harry had lit up like a Christmas tree, and half an hour later, he was practically dragging her through the empty halls of Hogwarts, like Harry’s best friend _wasn’t_ Petrified, like they hadn’t fought Soon-To-Be-Voldemort the night before, like Harry _hadn’t_ been bitten by a basilisk, like they hadn’t _slain_ one –

It was oddly… normal. Ariel hadn’t been out of her father’s quarters since December. The school looked the same, just as Ariel had left it. How many times had she walked this same path, right past the Great Hall, not knowing that she’d never take it for granted again?

“Is this something we’re going to get in trouble for?” Ariel asked Harry suspiciously as they’d exited the castle.

Harry only rolled his eyes, “Who’s the Gryffindor here?”

Ariel didn’t say anything else as Harry guided her towards the Quidditch pitch, which was suddenly no longer her least favorite place at the castle. She pulled her cloak tightly around her, shivering as the February wind bit at her face. It was then that she realized it didn’t bother her as much as it used to. At least she could _feel_ it – how she’d taken the five senses for granted before Tom.

“Wait here.” Harry told her, and disappeared into the locker rooms.

Ariel had sighed, looking above at the stands. The sun soaked the pitch in its golden light, and Ariel breathed it in, relishing it. It felt wonderful to be outside again – she couldn’t wait to go back to her _rock._ There was nothing better than natural warmth, Ariel thought to herself, the sun hitting her face. She wanted to reach up and touch it – wanted to bring it back down with her to the dungeons.

The sound of footsteps crunching against the frost-covered grass caused Ariel to turn, finding that Harry had emerged with his broom. She quirked an eyebrow, but he grinned crookedly at her.

Harry positioned himself on the broomstick, and then held out his hand.

Ariel eyed it with a certain level of distrust, giving the broom itself an even nastier look, “Harry, you know I _hate_ flying.”

“I know.” He nodded.

She grimaced, backing away a little, “Then you know I’m not getting on that bloody thing.”

“Yes, you are.” Harry said calmly, tilting his broom so that it swooped over to her. It brushed against her knees, as though prodding her to climb on.

Ariel huffed and crossed her arms. The wind spilt her hair across her face, red and messy. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a brush to it. She still needed that shower.

“I want to show you something.” Her brother sighed, “Trust me.”

“I get airsick.”

“Not with me, you won’t.” Harry shook his head, “You’ve never flown with someone who knows what they're doing like I do. You won’t fall, you know.”

“I’m not afraid of falling!” Ariel snapped, “I just _hate_ it.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“I don’t trust the _broom.”_ She eyed it, willing it to suddenly cease levitating.

_“I_ trust the broom.” Harry rolled his eyes, losing a bit of his optimism, “And _you_ trust _me,_ so hop on.”

_“No.”_

“Ariel,” He sighed, crossing his arms, “get on the broom, or I’ll tell Wood you’re planning on trying out next year. The idea of a Potter on his team will make him faint.”

“You wouldn’t.” She growled.

Harry gestured to the Nimbus, “Get on, and I won’t.”

Ariel huffed and stalked over, throwing her leg over the broom handle and wrapping her arms around his middle. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the nausea already making her stomach churn.

“Please don’t crash.” She muttered into his back. Harry laughed, and then, he kicked off.

Her grip around his middle immediately tightened as they rose higher and higher. He snorted, throwing her an eye roll. Ariel didn’t dare look down or up or anywhere else as they began to climb, his broom turned so sharply upwards that she was quite sure they’d both so sliding off. The roar of the wind filled her ears, a flock of birds somewhere nearby, or perhaps they were beside them. She couldn’t tell, for her eyes were seared shut, and face pressed tightly against the crook of Harry’s neck.

And then, suddenly everything went quiet.

“Ariel,” Harry said softly, a smile in his voice, “open your eyes.”

She shook her head against him, and he laughed.

“C’mon, Ariel. If you don’t, this’ll all have been for nothing.”

“If I fall,” Ariel lifted her face, “I’m going to burn your broomstick.”

“Deal.”

She popped open one of her eyes slowly, and then the other, and looked to her right.

It was a sea of blue, dark and deep, the color of an ocean before a storm. Off in the distance, Ariel could see the sun, an explosion of color emanating from it. They were above the clouds. She couldn’t see the ground. They were weightless, somewhere that wasn’t Earth, not even Hogwarts, because they’d transcended.

“How did you…” She breathed, her voice full of wonder.

“I told you, I know what I’m doing.” There was an eye roll in there somewhere, “And _now,”_ The broom jerked forward teasingly, “the _fun_ part.”

They soared, and something lifted inside of her that’d had been locked away. It flew alongside them as the wind tousled their hair. Their laughs filled the empty space as they climbed higher and higher. The sunrise turned the sky into dream colors, things of fantasy and light that seemed palpable, like she could reach out and touch them. 

They were above the clouds, and the world felt better before them as they looked down upon it, and Ariel wondered how she’d managed to be so high when she’d fallen so far.

* * *

 

Life returned to normal, after that, or at least, as normal as normal could be.

Severus allowed Ariel to return to school a week after the events in the Chamber, which further shocked her, more than him letting her go to fly with Harry the day after. Her father still seemed far too tense. He surveyed the corridor outside of their quarters before they went to bed and checked in on her at random points during the night. It seemed, however, that with the threat finally, truly gone, her father was just as anxious to return to reality as she was. Ariel had strict orders to return to him every night, which she did gladly, and Harry was warned that if Severus caught him out after curfew with his Invisibility Cloak, he’d be potion’s ingredients.

“But what kind of potion’s use human parts?” Harry had muttered, and her father had rolled his eyes so far it was a wonder they hadn’t rolled out of his head.

Harry and Ariel had found Ron almost immediately within the first ten minutes of her liberation. He had nearly tackled him when he caught sight of them making their way to the Great Hall for breakfast. It would be the first meal Ariel had there in months – since Tom.

“Bloody hell, Harry!” Ron had snapped, “McGonagall brings me to the infirmary to tell me Hermione’s been Petrified, Ginny’s been possessed by that diary we’ve been looking all over for, and _you two –”_

“I’m sorry.” Harry apologized, “It was all so sudden… we hadn’t any time to tell you.”

“How’s Ginny?” Ariel had demanded, wishing she could see her, make sure she was alright.

Ron shrugged, shuffling his feet. “Okay, I guess. Mum and Dad took her home. I heard they might keep her there for the rest of term.”

“She… she’s okay, though?” Ariel asked anxiously, “She’ll be alright?”

“Yeah, she’ll be fine.” Ron said, his blue eyes diving to the floor, “I just… I feel bad, is all. Mum and Dad gave the twins and I hell for it… said we tease her too much and don’t pay attention to how she’s really feeling. Percy was beside himself. I think he wanted to go home with them, but Dad said he should stay here.”

“It’s not your fault, mate.” Harry said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I just feel like I failed as a brother, is all.” Ron said quietly.

Ariel looked at him sympathetically, feeling his words echo inside her heart. She’d failed Harry as a sister, so much more than Ron and his brothers had thought they’d wronged Ginny.

Another thought to tuck away and hide, another crack in the mirror.

The thing that stuck to the front of her mind was one name – Damon.

Ariel found herself wanting to see him as some students at the Gryffindor table stood up to welcome her back. Even some Slytherins gave her nods. Others, Draco and his cronies mainly, gave her looks of disgust, but as she smiled and nodded at their questions, Ariel felt like something important was missing. She scanned the Hall, finding that Damon wasn’t anywhere to be found.

“Have you talked to Damon at all?” Ariel asked Harry quietly as they seated themselves at the Gryffindor table.

He averted his eyes, grabbing a piece of toast from the middle, “Your dad told me not to tell him anything because of Lucius. I haven’t seen him around much…”

“He’s been keeping to himself, since you argued.” Ron said, taking a swig of pumpkin juice and glancing over at Slytherin, “He hasn’t said more than a couple of words to me.”

“Argued?” Ariel frowned at Harry, “When? About what?”

“He knew about the Chamber from the start.” Harry muttered, “I was mad at him for not telling me the story… Draco ended up blabbering on about it. When you stopped going to classes, he wanted to know where you were and I couldn’t…”

“You could have told him.” She said quietly, “I trust him.”

Ariel did, more than anyone, save Severus and Harry, of course. She didn’t know what it was, but there was something so comforting about him, in the knowledge that Damon knew who she _really_ was, that he knew the truth, apart from just herself.

“Snape said not to.”

“Dad doesn’t like him because his mum was a Death Eater.” She sighed, “That’s not important – I’m not worried about that. I have to find him.”

“You’re going to tell him then?” Harry looked up at her, his green eyes sharp.

Ariel nodded.

“Everything?” He asked, accompanied by a questioning look.

“Everything.”

“Then I’m going with you.”

Ariel opened her mouth to tell Harry she’d rather speak to him alone, but backtracked. He’d been in this as much as she had. If he hadn’t been talking to Damon, Harry deserved to explain himself too. He didn’t owe him an apology like Ariel did, but she’d rather that everything went back to normal as quickly as possible.

“Do you have any parchment?” Ariel asked Ron.

He nodded, grabbing a notebook and ripped out a sheet for her. Ron wordlessly handed her a quill. Ariel had grown used to dipping the quill in the ink pot and watching a single dot sit there, no words writing themselves and lying all the while, and set the tip to the parchment.

_Damon,_ she wrote, _meet Harry and I by the rock in fifteen minutes. We need to talk._

_“Libera.”_ She whispered to it, and it disappeared in a small puff of smoke.

“You don’t have to do this now.” Harry said, looking directly at her. It made her feel like she was being X-rayed.

“I want to.” Ariel said quietly, “I’ve put off talking about it for long enough.” 

With that, they both rose and told Ron they’d meet up with him later. Outside, the air bit them to the bone, and Ariel wondered why she constantly made the rock in the forest their meeting place for conversations that were most likely going to take more than a couple of minutes. But it was the only place Ariel could think of that was private and secluded, where no one would stumble upon them.

She was surprised to see a head of dark hair standing at the edge of the rock already waiting, his body turned away from them. He was as still as the stone below their feet.

Both Ariel and Harry blinked.

“You got here quick.” She said, crossing her arms.

“I was already here.” Damon said as he turned, his voice hoarse. Ariel noticed bags under his eyes.

“I remember you saying something about not hiking out here in the dead of winter when term began.” She raised a sardonic eyebrow at him.

“You were right about it being a good place to think.” He said quietly, his cloak wrapped around his thin frame.

Ariel was silent as she approached him, dead, fallen leaves crackling underneath her boots. There was frost on the ground, but no snow, so unlike years past. She looked around at the trees she’d scorched with her spells the day her father had been cruel to Damon in class, from when Harry had first come to Hogwarts and her father had done the same to him, over when she found out Severus _was_ her father. Each one, a different line, a different emotion etched into the dark bark of the evergreens and pines.

But there were new ones, scorch marks that were not of her own doing.

Damon’s ice blue eyes were frostier than the ground.

Something mounted inside Ariel’s chest – all of the crippling guilt she’d come to terms with, and the parts she hadn’t. Here was Damon, her dearest friend, the one who knew the secrets of her heart and even her father’s, things _Harry_ didn’t even know, on the outside for once. She felt terrible, in that moment, as they stood on opposite sides of some imaginary glass, and only she could look at him, but not the other way around.

Ariel couldn’t help it – she threw her arms around his neck.

He stiffened at first, obviously not expecting the contact. But Damon seemed to recover rather quickly, and soon enough he was hugging her back tightly.

“You’re a mess.” He gave her that smirk that had wanted to make her rip her hair out when she’d first met him. It didn’t reach his eyes.

“You have no idea.” Ariel sniffled.

“Would you like a room?” Harry called from behind them sarcastically. She turned to find him tapping his foot in a mocking manner.

She grinned at him, “Feeling left out?”

Her brother made a face at her.

“Hello to you too, Potter.” Damon unwound their arms from around each other, and something about the action made Ariel feel colder at the loss of contact, “Nice of you to drop by.”

“Stop it.” Ariel gave him a look, “It’s not his fault. It’s mine.”

“Don’t you start with that.” Harry glared at her, and then looked back to Damon, “I’m sorry, mate. I didn’t have much of a choice…”

“You should have told me.” Damon said flatly.

“Wait,” Ariel’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “do you know something?”

“I know you were the Heir.” He said.

The wind whistled through the trees, and none of them so much as breathed. Ariel’s head seemed to float above her shoulders, all of her body mass compacting itself into her chest. Harry had gone pale, but his eyes flashed warily.

“How’d you figure _that_ out?” Ariel asked, taking a step back.

“I saw your father and Lucius.” Damon looked around, tapping his foot against the ground, “They came here the other day – I don’t know why _here_ of all places.”

“Did they see you?” She grabbed his arm, horrified.

“No,” He shook his head, “they have no idea I was here. I hid, but I heard Snape. He said…” Damon swallowed roughly and looked away.

“What happened?” Ariel whispered.

“Nothing.” Damon said, but she could tell he was lying, which worried her more. Damon was usually very good at keeping his feelings under wraps, hidden from her. Ariel could only catch glimmers of what he was truly feeling, like she did with her father and brother.

“Why are you so afraid?” She grabbed his arm, “You can tell us, Damon. Maybe my father can –”

“No!” He nearly shouted, making both Ariel and Harry jump, “You can’t tell him I saw anything, Ariel!”

“Why?” Harry asked, “What did he do?”

“He just made sure Lucius wasn’t going to harm you again.” Damon looked away, like he was somehow guilty, “But I heard enough to gather what you were hiding from me, Harry.”

_I was a Death Eater, Ariel_

She shoved _that_ thought down into the emptiness, let it reach up and wrap it’s nails around it and drag it down down _down_ into the abyss.

“I’m sorry.” Harry said, green eyes full, “I wanted to tell you, I wanted your help, but your uncle…”

“Did you know?” Ariel interrupted, looking up at Damon.

“Did I _know?”_ Damon’s eyes widened, and then went sharper than knives, “You think I had something to do with this? That I _let_ him plant it on you?” He began to back away, hurting shining from every inch of his face.

“I was going to say the _diary,_ idiot.”

“No, I didn’t fucking know!” He spat, shoving past her, “I had to find out from your sodding father when he –”

“Damon please!” Ariel grabbed his hand, halting him to a stop, _“Please,_ I had to ask.”

“You shouldn’t have had to!”

“You knew about the Chamber and said nothing!” She pleaded, “I just… I know you wouldn’t have known about his plan – about the damn diary…”

“I thought the Chamber was just a story!” He yelled, blue eyes flashing to Harry, “I thought it was something to scare the Muggleborn students with! None of us… I didn’t even think _Lucius_ believed it himself, but when I heard him here with Snape I… the Dark Lord must have…” His eyes, to Ariel’s growing alarm, began to water.

“Okay.” Ariel grabbed his hands as Harry watched, looking just as upset as she felt, “Okay, Damon, I believe you. I –”

“You _had to ask,_ I know.” He pulled away, scowling at them, “You shouldn’t _have_ to. When the hell did you start to doubt me, Ariel? After everything, because _my_ uncle did something? You didn’t think _Draco_ was a more likely suspect?”

“I don’t think you’re a suspect!” Ariel snapped, “It was _me,_ okay? _Me!_ And then Ginny!”

Damon seemed to calm at this. His face fell, hands going limp at his sides, though Ariel still held onto them. Harry walked over so that he was standing beside her.

“The Heir…” Damon swallowed, “was in that diary? That’s what Snape said, something about the Dark Lord. Was Riddle working for him?”

“Tom Riddle.” Harry said, and Ariel was grateful, because his name burned her tongue and throat when she thought about trying to say it. “He’s Voldemort… or at least, what he _used_ to be.”

All of the color seemed to drain from Damon’s face all at once. He bit his lip and tore away from them. For a second, Ariel thought he was going to walk away and leave, but he stopped short, hands running through his thick, dark hair, making it as messy as Harry’s.

“What exactly did you see, Damon?” Harry asked quietly.

“Nothing,” came a mutter, “they were just talking.”

Ariel couldn’t tell if the shaking in his voice was from the lying, or from Harry telling him Lucius had given her Voldemort’s diary. Either way, Ariel felt like she wasn’t getting anywhere. She felt like she was playing ping-pong with words. All she wanted was to put Riddle behind her, forget and move forward, but she couldn’t do that until Damon understood.

She hated herself just a little bit more in that moment, because she’d left her best friend alone in the dark, and hadn’t had a say in the matter.

“I hate him.” Damon whispered before Ariel could respond. His voice was like broken glass, jagged around the edges, but smooth enough on the surface to show the true reflection. She could feel the declaration in her bones, and in the recesses of her heart.

Ariel and Harry shared a long look.

She reached for him again, but Damon shook his head at her and began to wipe at his eyes, a single tear escaping from them. She wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault… Merlin knew, it wasn’t his fault, he’d _warned her_ that day in Diagon Alley…

“Are you better?” Damon rasped, blue eyes looking at her with a familiar glimmer in them, “It’s been three sodding months.”

Ariel nodded, “It… took a lot out of me. My dad wanted me firmly back on my feet before he let me come back to school.”

“Well, then,” He plopped to the ground, and patted the space beside him, “you’d best tell me what I couldn’t fucking know.”

And so they told him about the diary and Tom Riddle, the connection between their scars and the Chamber. Damon had seemed mildly intrigued at the prospect of there being a real-life basilisk living in the castle, but when Harry told him how he’d slayed it, Damon almost seemed disappointed, though still properly horrified. He didn’t ask as many questions as Hermione and Ron had. It seemed like Damon had a need-to-know only mentality, and Ariel couldn’t gauge if it was because Lucius was the catalyst, or because he still felt hurt Harry hadn’t told him the truth, or because he didn’t _want_ to know the details.

“I thought that if anyone had a right to tell you,” Harry said once they were done, “it was Ariel. _She_ was the one who was sick, after all.”

“And Snape asked you to tell everyone she had _mono?”_ Damon scoffed, “It’s a good thing most students here have no clue what that is.”

“Do _you,_ Mr Pureblood-Smarty-Pants? _”_ Ariel challenged.

“I _knew_ you didn’t have a stupid Muggle disease.” Damon rolled his eyes dramatically, “If you were kissing someone –”

_“Kissing someone?”_ She bleated.

“Well, yeah, that’s what the Muggle students are saying. That’s how you get it, apparently.” He gave her a smug smirk.

She rounded on Harry, whose eyes had widened three times their normal size, and shrieked, “You told the school _I HAD A KISSING DISEASE?”_

Her brother couldn’t run fast enough.

For abandoning his post, Lockhart was sacked. When Ariel had walked into her Defense class, Dumbledore had been standing there instead of him, to her great relief. When she’d asked Severus about it, he’d told her that the other professors had found his office abandoned the night Riddle had taken them all down to the Chamber. There was even talk of him being brought up on charges, and a closer investigation had led to Ministry officials uncovering that Lockhart had actually extracted stories from witches and wizards across the globe, Obliviated them, and then taken the credit for himself.

Ariel had brought the Daily Prophet to her father that morning she’d read the article, and she had never once seen him look so smug. He’d nearly _smiled,_ with was about as common as a solar eclipse.

Dumbledore assumed the Defense position, just like he had last year. He seemed to have taken the opportunity about the school abuzz with rumors about Slytherin’s monster to teach them about the Founders himself. Ariel had heard the stories he told her class time and time again as a child, but felt herself just as enthralled by them as she had been then.

Professor Sprout said the mandrake roots would be ready to use on the Petrified students by May. In the meantime, Harry and Ron went to go and sit with Hermione every day at lunch, Ariel and Damon often joining them. They talked as though she could hear, which Madam Pomfrey said she _could,_ but Ariel often felt rather silly doing so, though she did it for Harry’s sake. There was even a part of her that actually did it for Hermione. Ariel told herself it was because she was responsible for this, even though she couldn’t stand the girl at times, and not because a part of her missed her bossiness.

Ginny was gone for a month before she returned, and when she did, she avoided Ariel like she had the plague. Although she’d never been overly friendly with Ginny, Ariel found herself seeking her out, only to have Ginny tear from the room like she was bad juju. Ron had assured her that Ginny wasn’t angry with her – it was her own guilt that caused her to act so strangely whenever Ariel was around.

No one told anyone that Ginny had been the one to open the Chamber after Ariel. The school was never given a name, never given an explanation, and as time went on, people began to forget and think the whole thing was some kind of twisted prank. Draco had even stopped leering at Muggleborns, though Ariel was pretty sure she and Harry had to do with that. Damon mentioned that Harry had pounced on him one night when Tom had still had her. It only seemed right for her to throw a punch or two at Malfoy when she’d caught him and Pansy Parkinson cornering a Muggleborn Ravenclaw girl.

Her father had yelled her ear off, but in the end, the thirty dirty cauldrons had turned to three, and Severus had spent the evening applying salve to Ariel’s bruised knuckles.

Spring was beginning to cover the grounds once more. Through the frost that blanketed the hard ground, Ariel could already see the tips of the grass peeking through at her as the days past, growing in length and warmth. Her and Harry had taken advantage of the nice weather and gone flying, for which… well, Harry called it _begging,_ but Ariel called it _passing time._ It was _fun_ to fly with Harry – that didn’t mean Ariel liked it, but with her brother steering, there was something different about the way it felt. Damon and Ron joined them usually, since Ron loved it as much as Harry, and Damon was constantly trying to refine his Chaser skills.  

Harry been trying to get her to try on her own, and she’d been reluctant to give it a go. She was terrible at flying. Her first year, she’d tried to get her father to convince the Headmaster to let her drop the class, but there was no special treatment to be found in _that_ department.

There was something different about how Ariel felt after the Chamber, flying aside. Lighter, yes – she no longer felt oppressed or nervous, but the part of her Tom had inhabited was now filled. The ache she’d felt the night her father had held her was gone, leaving behind something different altogether. Ariel had wondered when she’d found it – found that part of herself.

It had been when she’d smiled while stabbing the diary.

* * *

 

Life had indeed resumed normalcy, but to Severus, it had only confirmed a notion he’d feared the day he’d agreed to take Ariel.

She flung herself into the wiles and snares and understood their consequences.

And that was the difference, Severus had come to realize, between Lily and Ariel. Lily hadn’t known darkness – she’d fought against it, spoken out and tried to cast it away from with that glorious inner light Severus himself had never been able to spark to life. He’d carried hers with him, instead, Lily, as a candle, a single flame to keep himself from falling somewhere he could never climb out from, from somewhere dark and terrible and would surely douse the flame. There were flickers of that man from time to time – Lucius had seen it, probably better than anyone, when Severus had raised his wand and found immense pleasure in the pain it caused.

Ariel knew it, understand it, felt it, carried it within herself now. Lily had run from it, run from him, and she’d been right to. Ariel knew what it was like to lose and want to be repaid, to feel validated and whole. Severus had searched himself, thought it wouldn’t come to him among the ranks of the Death Eaters, but it had only driven away what could have been, what he’d _wanted_ but hadn’t deserved.

She had willingly written in that diary.

It was with this admission that Severus realized he had passed on more than just his eyes to the girl. He had to save that light, treasure it, protect it…

A month after the boy had been bitten by a basilisk and the girl had stabbed a piece of the Dark Lord’s soul, Severus willingly found himself back in Dumbledore’s office.

It wasn’t as it had been in times past. When Dumbledore had first told Severus the Truth — back when Ariel was every essence of the word _child_ — not the girl who hurtled after stones and basilisks and dark lords — Severus had spoken to him out of grief. His own guilt had choked him, blocking out any anger he’d held against the old man for not telling him sooner. Now, it was entirely different. Dumbledore had _known_ that the Dark Lord would come, and hadn’t tried to stop it because he believed that Ariel and Potter had some _destiny_ to fulfill…

That was it, in it’s rawest form. There was far more to it, Severus knew, but finding the boy with barely any pulse in a pool of blood, even if it wasn’t his own, and the girl crying for him like he had —

Severus hadn’t shown for meals in weeks, hadn’t attended staff meetings. He’d barely eaten in general. Ariel had even begun to notice, making it a habit to have house elves leave him food. If Severus saw Dumbledore, he was going to Hex him, which Severus had realized many years ago would never be a viable option in showing how he felt. He didn’t think he really could, Hex or not, in this case.

If he could not trust Dumbledore to keep them safe, then was he truly the only one on whom they could depend?

Severus had not darkened Dumbledore’s doorstep since the Chamber, but he knew that it would need to happen before the year was out. While helpless and bound under the Dark Lord’s control, Severus had been forced to watch, saw how Potter and Ariel interacted. He’d never really paid it much mind, but the way the boy had grabbed the sword from his sister had left something in Severus he didn’t know how to get rid of. The memory of the girl crying over the boy haunted him day in and day out, but…

The boy had hurtled after a basilisk to save them –

That thought terrified him. It made his skin crawl, like Parseltongue digging around inside his head. Potter had distracted the Dark Lord long enough the night Ariel had broken free… had risked his life for her the same way Ariel had risked hers to rescue him from Quirrell.

It was with that admission, Severus had realized, that Ariel and Potter were cut from the same cloth. He’d tried to deny it – had wanted to believe that Ariel was _his_ and Potter was his father’s. Severus had never bothered to acknowledge the bond there, even if it was not yet forged in something strong, and how heavily those damn children _did_ rely on each other…

They belonged to each other, as much as Ariel belonged to him.

Severus took the long way to Dumbledore’s office one Saturday in April. He’d reluctantly allowed Ariel to go to Hogsmeade, accompanied by Bellatrix’s brat. He’d made Minerva promise to keep a close eye on her, though Severus had spoken to Ariel himself and made her swear that she wouldn’t try any funny business. Truthfully, he didn’t think she would, but he could never be too sure. Potter, on the other hand, had been at Quidditch practice since early this morning.

To put himself in higher spirits, Severus took ten points from a group of Ravenclaws loitering outside the Great Hall, blocking the entrance. He would need something a _tad_ uplifting to get him through the conversation he was about to initiate.

“Severus,” Dumbledore looked up, pleasant surprise painting the lines in his face, “I wasn’t expecting —”

Fawkes let out a ceremonious chirp and swooped over to him, perching on a bookshelf beside the door. Severus lifted his hand, and Fawkes nuzzled it, nibbling softly at his fingers.

“I didn’t think I needed to Floo ahead.” Severus said shortly, his other hand still gripping the doorframe.

“Of course not. Come in.” A tea set was assembling itself before Dumbledore had finished speaking. The cups clinked against one another as Severus stepped inside, a plate of biscuits, and then donuts, appearing beside them. They were the cream-filled kind. If Severus tried just one, he’d probably put himself into a sugar coma.

A surge of window flowed through the room, as if it was coming to sit in on the conversation. It felt good, the chill gone from the air as spring began to arrive. Fawkes flew back to his perch, following Severus’ gaze.

“How have you been, my boy?” Dumbledore asked, holding up his hand as the creamer began to pour itself into his cup. “The staff and I have been worried – we’ve seen very little of you these past few months, though, it is understandable.”

“I’m as I’ve always been.” Severus sipped his tea, trying not to break the saucer.

“You know that’s not what I mean.” He said, not unkindly.

In truth, Severus had been more on edge than ever. Ariel’s wellbeing, of course, had been his top priority, and he’d been paranoid beyond belief about that fucking basilisk bite in Potter’s shoulder. Severus knew better than anyone, seeing as he was a potion’s master, that phoenix tears had done just the trick, but every time he saw the boy, all he could recall was the fang ripping through his shoulder. He’d been making Poppy call him in at random points for the remainder of the year to check on it. She always assured him that there was absolutely _nothing_ wrong with Potter, but he couldn’t shake the vision from his mind, even with his Shields back in place.

“I’m fine.” Severus muttered, disliking the direction this conversation was heading in. “I’m not _recovering –_ I knew what to expect of the Dark Lord. Ariel and Potter… I’ve been focused on ensuring that my daughter is of sound mind.”

“And how is Ariel?” Dumbledore finally asked, setting down his teacup. “She and Harry are an absolute delight in class, I must admit, but in the aftermath of everything… how is she faring?”

Severus’ grip on his own tightened, “She is… better.”

“No lingering effects?”

“No.” He swallowed, and set down the cup with an audible _clink,_ “She does, however, have nightmares, from time to time. I can’t give her Dreamless Sleep every night — but you know that already.”

“Severus…” Dumbledore sighed, reaching a withered hand across the table.

“She has to wait before she writes anything now.” Severus went on, an inferno igniting deep inside his chest, where his heart had once been, “She sits there and lets the ink drop from the quill and onto the page — I don’t think she realizes that she does it.”

“I know you’re still angry.” He looked extremely sorrowful – Severus didn’t buy it for a fucking second. “What happened to you –”

“This isn’t about me!” Severus snapped.

“To those children, then – what happened was… inconceivable, and frightening, but when you go through the fire, my friend, you come out refined.”

“They didn’t need to be _refined.”_ Severus snarled. “They needed to be protected! For fuck’s sake, I thought you _cared_ about what happened to those children!”

“You know I do, Severus.” Dumbledore appeared hurt by this, his silver eyebrows pulling together. “I want Ariel and Harry safe as much as you do. I know it’s different – I’m sure being a parent heightens your emotions. There’s something instinctive about it, I’m told.”

“You knew where to send Fawkes.” He hissed. “You _let this happen,_ because you thought they’d be the only ones to defeat him! Had Ariel not suffered enough? Potter almost _died!”_

“Fawkes was called to where he was needed.” Dumbledore said quietly, “I simply told him to aid them should they find themselves in harm’s way. Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.”

“They didn’t _ask_ for _any_ of this!” Severus slammed down his saucer, tea spilling onto the floor. Fawkes let out a startled cry. “What happened to them as infants wasn’t even _them –_ it was their _mother!_ You told them it was her sacrifice, which is why I have pledged myself to honor it by making sure they come into adulthood unscathed! My girl paid the price and _then_ some, and Harry nearly fucking – that boy would have died for her, and she for him, and the best you could do was send your damn bird!”

He’d risen from the chair, his chest heaving. Fawkes looked incredibly insulted, but Dumbledore’s eyes had begun to twinkle halfway through Severus’ rant. He didn’t know why, and he really didn’t care, but what he _did_ know was that he wasn’t being heard. He fell back into the chair, the saucer at his feet, and rubbed a hand over his face roughly.

“What is it…” Severus said into his hands. “What is it going to take for you all to see?”

“I see more than you think, my boy.” Dumbledore leaned back in his seat. Severus didn’t know what he meant by that. When he looked back to the old man, he was wearing a pensive look, like he’d been contemplating whatever it was he was thinking for longer than a few seconds.

“When Ariel was very small,” His eyes were the deepest blue Severus had ever seen them, “you used to read her fairy tales, did you not?”

“What does this —”

“Humor an old man.” Dumbledore clasped his hands together and gave Severus an inquisitive look, “You would have rather read Latin translations, but she insisted on stories.”

“I still don’t —” Severus was cut off by a raised hand in his direction. He growled, but allowed him to continue. He’d have all the time to speak once the old man was done rambling.

“Can you recall what happened in most of them, Severus?” Dumbledore asked quietly, “I believe the stories are similar in structure. A hero; a great beast spreading death and destruction, perhaps a damsel in distress. Insignificant to you, maybe, but to a child, they hold a whole other world of meaning.”

“Are you insinuating that _I_ gave her a hero complex?” Severus demanded, his stomach rolling with every syllable.

“No,” Dumbledore chuckled, waving his hand in dismissal, “I believe that Ariel’s bravery stems from you and Lily.” Severus opened his mouth to protest, but when the old man looked back to him, he stopped himself, “My point being that fairy tales do not teach children that there are monsters. _They_ know better than most of us that they exist. Harry and Ariel’s lives are structured around a monster and his lust for their lives that Halloween night.”

He gritted his teeth and bit back the bile gathering at the back of his throat. Severus wanted to say something — scream at Dumbledore to get to the point.

“Those stories show children that monsters can be _slain.”_ He said, his voice full of a certainty Severus had only heard a handful of times in his tenure, “Voldemort is not some unstoppable force. They need to learn for themselves that he _will_ be defeated. Don’t you see that, Severus? They’ve slain the monster every time he’s revealed himself.”

He didn’t know what it was — perhaps it was the realness of his words or the closeness of the events, but Severus could feel the room tilting.

“They shouldn’t _have_ to.” Severus rasped. “The Dark Lord will take and _take_ from them until there’s nothing left, like he has done with everyone he has ever touched.”

_Death follows Tom wherever he goes,_ Dumbledore had said to him many years ago, on a hilltop.

“What will you have me do, Severus?” He asked him, looking contemplative. “I will do everything in my power and more to make sure Harry and Ariel are kept safe. Nothing like this will happen again and in that, you have my word. But there are some things, my friends, you and I will not be able to keep at bay. They will need to learn how to fight their own battles, for their own sakes.”

There were _already_ so many layers of protection around them, and the Dark Lord kept finding ways around it. Severus suddenly felt a sense of longing for the days before Potter and Ariel had started school, when the boy was still hidden away at Petunia’s, where Severus could watch him and know for certain that he was safe, and the girl under his wing. The wizarding world unsure of their whereabouts for those first few years had been the best cover any of them could have given those children.

Which was what they needed.

“I want the boy with me this summer.” Severus said, trying hard not to regret each syllable as it left his mouth.

Dumbledore, for once, appeared taken aback. His blue eyes shone with surprise, mouth slightly parted, and then, he was shaking his head and sighing, “Severus…”

“I want Potter with me for the summer.” He repeated. It didn’t hurt as much the second time.

“You don’t know what you’re asking.” Dumbledore tucked his clasped hands under his chin and looked up at him, “You’re still angry.”

Of fucking course he was still fucking angry. Severus hadn’t spoken to the old man in _months_ after what had happened, too furious to even _try_ and entertain a neutral conversation. Minerva hadn’t believed a word of it, had reasoned that Dumbledore cared too much for the children to do such a thing. Severus would have said the same thing before the Chamber, but afterwards, he wondered. How could he have… even if Dumbledore or Severus or Merlin himself hadn’t been able to open the Chamber, how could he have just _sat back_ and let it happen? For fuck’s sake, Dumbledore had watched the girl grow from a baby to a girl –

“I was going to allow Harry to return to the Weasley’s again…” Dumbledore said slowly.

“No,” He leaned forward against the desk, “you want to regain my trust?”

“Severus…”

“I want him under _my_ supervision,” Severus forced out through gritted teeth, “since everyone else is _entirely_ incapable.”

“The Weasley’s are quite –”

“No, they are _not!”_ Severus’ fist slammed against the wooden top, “After what they have had to endure this year, I want him with _me._ I will _not_ separate Potter and Ariel again – do you hear me? I will _not!”_

“But this is touching Severus.” Dumbledore said seriously, “Have you come to care for the boy after all?”

Something shrieked inside him at that, though he could not identify whether it was in agreement or the complete and utter opposite.

Both options terrified him.

“I _care,”_ He bared his teeth, “about his wellbeing, about _my_ child’s. I want them together.”

The Headmaster gave him a long, calculating look. Severus did not look away, but held his gaze, staring right back into his cobalt eyes and feeling the balancing and weighing of pros and cons. Of the risks and benefits.

“This will raise suspicions.” Dumbledore said quietly, “What of your cover?”

“It won’t matter.” Severus said flatly.

“On the contrary, it matters very much.”

“Do I receive visitors on a daily basis wondering about my routine?” He sneered, “Cokeworth is, and always has been, a Muggle area. Besides you, I can think of no magical presence that has paid it visit within the last decade.”

“Lucius?” Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, “He _was_ rather suspicious when I returned the diary to him.”

“Lucius Malfoy,” Severus hissed, “is no longer an issue.”

“Severus…”

“The boy stays with me,” He snarled, “or you _will_ find yourself a new potion’s master. I _will_ take Ariel, and I _will_ leave, unless you can show me proof that I can trust you again.”

Dumbledore leaned away from him and assumed his thinking-face. It was a mask, of course, for Severus knew that the old man had already come to a decision. He wouldn’t refuse him this, not after the nightmare this year had yielded and the casualties involved. Dumbledore _owed_ him this request.

“And if this raises questions?” He finally asked, a surrender and confirmation in his voice.

“I have,” Severus heaved a sigh, “a _cover,_ Albus. No one will know the boy is with me – I’ve kept the girl hidden all these years, haven’t I?”

“Forgive me, Severus, but in light of your position, I do have doubts.”

“Ariel is mine.” He said in a voice that was strong and sure and full of clarity, “And Potter is hers. You have no right to deny either, anymore.”

And with that, he’d strutted from the Headmaster's office, and down to the dungeons, feeling every footstep behind him as his decision grew stronger and stronger in realness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Please review!


	53. Thistle and Weeds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I broke the daily-upload-streak – I’m sorry, guys, I was so burnt out yesterday that I couldn’t bring myself to write, and I wasn’t going to give you something thrown together. My world has been writing HP universe since Christmas, so pacing myself has kind of gone out the window. 
> 
> *Gasp!* A whole chapter from Harry’s POV?! Yes, friends, those days have arrived. After two whole years of Snape and Ariel angst, I think we need a reprieve to live in Harry’s head for a chapter. This was pretty fun to write, so I hope you like it!
> 
> I’ve decided to take some liberty with this author’s note and address some blaring issues that our dear characters will be facing that I haven’t mentioned/many of you have voiced. The main thing, I think, is when Harry will find out the truth. If you want more specifics (because I don't want to spoil for anyone who’d rather be kept completely in the dark) you can always PM me and I’ll do my best, but just know that it's not far away. If you want more info — I’m ready to answer.
> 
> The second thing, I think, is the James/Lily debacle, which, on the opposite end of the spectrum, won't be talked about for some time. I have plans to reveal in pretty deep detail what happened there, but again, can't do so without some MAJOR spoilers. 
> 
> Lastly — Snape saying I love you back. It will also come in time. Snape is 2 seconds away from having an emotional breakdown at any given time. Those words terrify him. He’ll… get there.

 

His first night at Spinner’s End, Harry didn’t sleep.

He was living with Snape and Ariel.

It didn’t make sense the more he said it in his head. Harry had been doing it every night since Snape had given him the option – the _option._ No Dursleys – Harry could _choose_ if he wanted the Weasleys, or his sister… and Snape – but _his_ _sister!_ A year ago, Ariel had been telling Harry that Snape felt _threatened_ by him, and now, he was sleeping in the house Ariel had grown up in.

His mind kept going back to the day where Snape had sat them both down to tell them. Harry had been certain that Snape was going to say that somehow, it had leaked that Ariel and Ginny had been the Heir, and that there would be an investigation of some kind… or maybe that the Diary _hadn’t_ been properly destroyed, and it had disappeared…

“Potter,” Snape had said in a funny sort of voice – like he was swallowing back a scream. “the Headmaster has asked me to inform you that in light of recent events, you will not be staying with the Weasleys this summer.”

Ariel’s face had gone from curious to downright furious within the blink of an eye, while Harry’s stomach heaved. If he wasn’t going to the Weasley’s… than _that_ meant…

“Why the hell _not?”_ She’d demanded.

“They don’t want me to stay with them?” Harry had felt the floor give out from underneath him. “Ron hasn’t –”

“Relax.” Snape had sent his sister A Look. “He’ll be staying with us instead.”

His stomach recoiled itself, and the burning in his chest, for once, did not hurt.

_“What?”_ Harry had asked, dumbly.

“He _is?”_ Ariel had bleated.

“I think it would be beneficial for the two of you to be together for the holidays.” Snape had leaned forward, his hands clasped together tightly on the desktop.

“You _do?”_ Ariel had looked like he was telling them Hogwarts was floating away.

Snape had pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand – Harry had gotten the impression that he was trying very hard not to bury his face in his hands.

“Is this not what you two wanted?” He’d muttered, sounding defeated.

Harry and Ariel had shared a look. Of course Harry wanted to stay with his sister – he’d wanted it since they’d rescued him from the Dursleys. Living with Ariel, however, meant living with _Snape_ and Snape didn’t like him – at all. He’d probably kill him in the middle of the night and tell Ariel that Harry had run away.

No… Snape wouldn’t do that – he wouldn’t lie to Ariel like that… probably.

“You don’t… have to… do… this.” Harry had forced out, feeling terribly awkwardly, and stupid. Ariel had shoved an elbow into his side, sending him a look. Harry had hissed _“what?”_ back at her, but Snape had silenced the two of them with a look.

“You should both know by now,” His voice had dropped down to a whisper. “that I do not do anything I don’t _want_ to do. This decision is entirely up to Mr Potter.”

Ariel’s head whipped to look at him, red curls bouncing about her shoulders. Her dark eyes were sparkling, like they’d been replaced with fine jewels.

Harry had said yes — and he didn't know how to feel about it.

 He was… Snape said he’d _wanted…_

He didn’t. This was for Ariel. This was for something bigger than just Harry. He didn’t need a parent. He was past that. He told himself that, because he had Hogwarts and his sister and his friends and magic. Harry _had_ parents who had loved him – they had died for him and his sister. That should have been enough… the idea of Snape wanting him, even if it was to just keep an eye on him or because Ariel did too shouldn’t have made his heart swell. Snape was still… _Snape._

And Harry had gone through his things earlier this year because he had wanted to know about his mum.

Snape loving someone wasn’t the problem. To others, Harry supposed, the idea was about as plausible as Voldemort being the Easter Bunny because Snape was so goddamn terrifying and nasty to everyone. Harry at one point might have thought, _“he must be really miserable to be so terrible.”_ But Snape wasn’t _that_ miserable… most of the time, anyway _,_ and Harry knew that because he saw how he was with Ariel. Harry had spent his entire life looking at people who loved one another, had seen the way Petunia had looked at Dudley and not him, had seen the way Snape looked at Ariel and Mrs Weasley at Ron and Ginny and Fred and George and –

It was the fact that Snape had loved his _mum._ Was Snape so… _Snapey_ because she was dead, or because Harry’s dad had married her? Was that the only reason he cared about Ariel?

Was it the only reason he couldn’t like Harry?

Snape had transfigured him a bed in Ariel’s room as his sister had given him a tour of the house. Harry had only seen a brief glimpse when he’d come to give Ariel her Defense textbooks, but after the grand tour, Harry soon realized that Snape was an even stranger bloke than he thought. The kitchen and living room were combined, though there was a small half wall separating the two, a wooden kitchen table and chairs directly behind it, so that you could sit and see into the living room as you ate. There was a single hallway, narrow and dark. The first door on the right was Ariel’s room, right next to it a bathroom. Across from Ariel’s room was Snape’s study, and then, his bedroom. There was a closet at the very end of the hall.

It was… oddly _Muggle-ish._ It wasn’t like the Burrow, where every corner you turned there was some inanimate object moving about, or some kind of creature moaning and groaning nearby. There were no ghouls in the attic, no gnomes inhabiting the outside. Harry wondered if he’d always lived here, or if he lived in a Muggle neighborhood for protection for Ariel. The only similarities Harry could draw between the two was that both homes were very cramped. Snape had boxes of books everywhere — in the hallway, under the coffee table. It was like he was ready to up and leave any second. It seemed very strange for Snape to be so… _messy_ wasn’t the right word — perhaps cluttered? — when he was so particular about everything else.

Harry rose the next morning, early as always. Hedwig was cooing quietly from her cage, while Ariel was snoring. He smirked at his sister, who slept about as gracefully as a mountain lion, and slipped from the bed and out into the hall.

He padded into the kitchen, expecting to find Snape awake, but it was empty. Harry paused, listening for signs of life in the rest of the house, but it was still silent.

His stomach growled.

Looking around the kitchen, Harry found no food or utensils lying out. It was bare, but then again, they’d only been here twelve hours. Of course it was normal for the house to look uninhabited. Harry wondered if Snape kept food, or if he just magically made it appear somehow. It was unlikely, he thought with a snort, but then again, magic surprised him every other day.

Thankfully, it seemed that Snape had somehow stocked the fridge at some point. It was pretty full, mostly with fruits and vegetables, and he spotted some fish at the bottom.

It didn’t seem right to cook for just himself. Harry hadn’t cooked since the Dursleys – Mrs Weasley had prepared every single meal herself when he’d stayed at the Burrow – but he was sure he could make some eggs and bacon without messing it up. He spotted a rusted toaster in the corner and grabbed that too for some toast.

Harry quickly threw some butter into a pan he found under the sink and ignited the gas stove. He was once again surprised that it actually worked – Snape having electricity was even weirder than him living in a Muggle neighborhood. Soon enough Harry had eggs sizzling away. How did they like them? Ariel quickly racked his brain – Ariel liked them scrambled, but Snape… bugger, he should have waited…

_“What_ are you doing?”

Harry spun around, nearly dropping the pan in the process. Snape was standing in the archway, fully dressed, arms crossed and looking at him with accusatory eyes.

“I’m… making… breakfast.” Harry said, each word sounding stupider and stupider as they passed through his lips.

Snape raised an eyebrow at him, “I wasn’t aware you were assuming the role of house elf.”

“Do you _have_ a house elf?” Harry shot back.

“I do not,” He looked him up and down, “but if I had wanted one, I’d have invested in one.”

“Well,” Harry put the pan back down on the stovetop, “then I guess I’m not cheating one out of a job, then.”

Snape sighed and stepped further into the room, “What the hell are you doing up at this hour, Potter?”

“I’m cooking.”

“I’m _aware.”_ He snapped, “But _why?”_

“Do you not eat breakfast?” Harry asked, quirking an eyebrow at him. Perhaps the rumors of him being a vampire were true, then.

“You’re double talking.”

“Actually, I’m cooking eggs –”

_“Potter!”_

“It’s called doing something _nice.”_ Harry said quietly, “Like you letting me stay here.”

“That does not need to be _repaid,_ Potter.” Snape sighed, leaning against the wall.

“I’m just trying to… _never mind.”_ He snapped back, “If you don’t want me to cook, then I’ll stop.”

“I didn’t say to stop,” Snape sounded just as annoyed, “but if you no longer wish to continue, I will take over, as is expected, seeing as I _am_ the adult.”

“I can do it.” Harry shoved a spatula around the pan with more force than necessary.

Snape sighed again, though this time, it sounded much more like a growl. A chair screeched against the ceramic, and Harry could soon feel his eyes incinerating the back of his head.

“Do you normally wake up this early?” Snape asked, sounding perturbed by this.

Harry simply nodded, grabbing the toast that popped up and threw it onto plates he’d found in the cabinets above.

“Did you sleep alright?”

Why was Snape asking him this? Was he trying to make conversation? The heck?

“Ariel talks in her sleep.” Harry said, scooping the smoking bacon beside the toast, “And snores.”

Snape snorted. “I’ll put up a Silencing Charm.”

“You don’t have to do that. Ron did it too – I don’t mind.”

“If it’s hindering you from falling asleep –”

“The Dursleys were louder. I’ve learned to just block it out.”

“Well, blocking out idiocy isn’t hard, I suppose.”

Harry laughed – and then stopped. Snape didn’t make him laugh – that was just a statement of fact. The Dursleys didn’t know much of anything, really, now that Harry looked back… especially Dudley.

“Morning.” A voice cut in.

Both their eyes went to the archway to find Ariel leaning against in, both eyebrows raised. Her pajamas were a pair of sweatpants Snape had voiced distaste for last night, and a t-shirt. Harry had changed before he’d gotten up, but it seemed that Ariel was comfortable lounging around in her pajamas a bit longer.

At the sound of her voice, Snape held out his hand and wordlessly summoned a newspaper that was sitting at the edge of the fireplace. Ariel eyed the two of them, though Harry pretended not to notice. Snape was watching Ariel with a look of mingled annoyance and indifference. Harry quickly grabbed the three plates and shoved them onto the table as Snape summoned glasses of orange juice.

“You two are making enough noise to wake up the bloody neighborhood.” She grumbled, climbing into the seat between Harry and Snape, “Did you two make _breakfast_ together?”

“Potter made it.” Snape finally said, gesturing to the food. He flipped open the paper, which Harry found to be the Daily Prophet.

Ariel looked at him, “You did?”

_Stupid stupid stupid this had been so stupid,_ “Yes.”

She smiled at him, picked up her fork, and shoved a forkful of eggs into her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully for a few seconds.

“I’d hate to say it, Dad,” Ariel grinned, “but they’re better than yours.”

“Congratulations to Mr Potter then,” Snape said sourly, “perhaps he should be a culinary chef rather than a wizard.”

“You don’t read the newspaper.” Ariel leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Unless it’s our birthday, of course.”

“Yes, I do.” Snape said from behind said paper.

“I have lived with you for the past twelve years, and you have never once read the newspaper. You always throw it out. You said it’s full of rubbish.”

Harry swallowed a mouthful of eggs and tried very hard not to laugh. Snape flicked open the newspaper with much more force than necessary, giving Ariel daggers, and then, his face disappeared behind the ever-changing print and pictures on the cover.

“I think,” Ariel set down her fork, “that we have to set some boundaries.”

“I think you should stop talking and eat your life changing eggs.” Snape retorted.

“You haven’t eaten yours.” Harry pointed out, liking the direction the conversation was headed.

Snape’s hand appeared from behind the paper, fork in hand, and then it disappeared. There was the sound of something metal screeching against ceramic.

Ariel gave Harry a knowing look, splitting a piece of bacon in half, “You can’t expect this to keep going on, Dad.”

Snape folded the paper so that his face was once again visible. His eyes were narrowed, “What are you referring to? Potter cooking?”

“He didn’t make me!” Harry interjected, “I… thought it’d be…”

“I mean the _Potter_ thing.”

Now both Harry and Snape were looking at her like she was speaking fluent Russian. Snape’s grip threatened to rip the paper in half.

“Well, he can’t call you _professor_ the whole time.” Ariel huffed, “That’s weird. And _you_ need to stop calling him _Potter.”_

Snape looked like he was trying very hard not to bury his face in his hands – Harry was quickly realizing this was a normal Snape-ism.

“Of all the things…” He muttered, “Ariel, can’t this wait?”

“No, Dad, it can’t.”

He dropped the newspaper. Harry wanted to drop to the floor and melt into it.

“Harry has a name.” Ariel said lightly, “And…”

_Oh gods, please not dad please please please don’t say I can call him dad please_

“You have a name too,” Ariel finished, _“Severus.”_

Harry nearly choked. Ariel hit him on the back a couple of times, and when he finally caught his breath, he grabbed his glass of orange juice and began to chug it, hiding his face in it. Harry briefly caught a glance of the glare on Snape’s face.

“You’re pushing your luck, girl.” Snape said icily.

“Fine,” She said nonchalantly, “be that way.”

Snape continued to stare at her like he wanted to Hex her, but Ariel just turned to Harry and started asking about Muggle ways of cooking. He got the impression, from her questions, that Snape usually did what Mrs Weasley did, and let the cooking kind of do itself. Snape stayed hidden behind this newspaper, though Harry noticed that he didn’t flip to other pages.

Harry wondered if he found the conversation interesting, and fought a smirk playing on his lips. Once Ariel had finished, Snape finally stood, throwing down the Prophet, and grabbed all three of their plates

“I’m going to brew.” He gave Ariel an expectant look, “If I return to find the house upside down, they’ll be hell to pay for it.”

“What’re we going to do?” Ariel rolled her eyes, “Whip out Harry’s broom and starting flying around?”

“I put nothing past the two of you.” Snape muttered – a sponge in the sink began to wash the dirty dishes, “and… _Potter,”_ He paused, “let me cook, lest you burn the house down while we’re sleeping.”

Ariel winked at him, and with a tiny smile, Harry took another sip of juice.

“He’ll come around.” She fluffed the newspaper, doing a perfect imitation of Snape just moments again. “You’ll see.”

He sincerely doubted that, but for right now, Harry supposed, it would be enough.

* * *

Summer seemed to reach Spinner’s End differently, like they were in a different region of the world, instead of a few miles from the Burrow. He didn’t know _exactly_ where the Weasleys lived – Harry made a point to ask Ron when he came back from Egypt. He and his whole family had gone down to visit Ron’s brother, Charlie, for the summer. He’d mentioned to Harry, before they’d left Hogwarts, that Mr and Mrs Weasley had hoped it would help Ginny forget about Tom and the diary. Even though Harry was sure they would’ve brought him along, he couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved that Snape had offered to take him for the summer. He would’ve felt like he was imposing somehow on their family vacation.

It wasn’t as warm here as it could get at the Burrow, or even back at Privet Drive. The area where they lived was shaded, and even though the house wasn’t big and drafty, it felt cool most of the time. There was a loud train station somewhere nearby, and a group of factories. Harry saw the workers walking home every evening, usually right before dinner. Other than that, Harry didn’t see any other Muggles walking around. He wondered if they were all recluses like Snape.

Most days, Harry and Ariel spent their time exploring a small creek just behind the house. It wasn’t very wide, but Ariel told him that it led into a larger river a few blocks down. Snape didn’t let them go that far, which didn’t surprise Harry, seeing as he was pretty sure he watched them from the window even though he said he would be down in the basement brewing all day.

Snape rarely came upstairs, and Harry got the impression that was on purpose. He didn’t know if he was trying to avoid Harry – or maybe the both of them – but he certainly didn’t stick around much after breakfast and dinner. Normally, Ariel and Harry would wake up to find breakfast waiting for them with a Warming charm on it. He’d stopped getting up early in order to avoid running into Snape in the kitchen again. Most mornings, Harry waited for Ariel to wake up, flipping through a Quidditch magazine in the meantime. It was… very relaxed, compared to the atmosphere at the Weasleys. There was no urgency, no voices shouting back and forth.

Ariel had searched through her closet – which was filled with an alarming amount of clutter – and had found a crawl space that led up to the attic. They’d successfully hidden it from Snape for an impressive twenty-five minutes, and he’d nearly hit to the roof when Ariel had called down to him. Thankfully, Ariel seemed to know how to persuade him into letting them use it, and so, after inspecting it himself, Harry and Ariel had gone up to explore.

There wasn't much — just junk, really. Ariel had found some old Muggle comics, and Harry had spent nearly an hour trying to explain all the Muggle references to her. They’d found an old projector, though, along with some Muggle film reels. When Ariel had asked Snape about it, he’d told her that they’d probably belonged to his father at some point, since it had apparently been _his_ house before Snape’s. Harry’s head had spun — Snape having a dad was weird enough, but he’d been a _Muggle?_

At night, however, Harry would wake up to find Ariel gone, voices floating in from the hallway. He figured that since Snape brewed all day, she went to go and speak to him at night, when he finally emerged. He didn’t let Harry _or_ Ariel down in the cellar. Harry figured they must go to his study, judging by the direction the voices came from and the light underneath his door. He wondered what they must talk about, since he and Snape had never held a conversation longer than ten minutes. It didn’t seem like something a person could do. 

All July lazed on by, Harry found himself more content than he would have thought he would be, living with Snape, though he didn’t really know if he could call it _living_ when he barely saw him. That changed, however, on the two-week mark until his birthday.

Harry had been having dreams all night, the same one over and over again. He and Ariel had gone to bed early, since they’d decided to go and watch the sun rise from the creek. He’d never done that before — Ariel had insisted they go, saying the view was spectacular. Harry hadn’t believed her, because Spinner’s End didn’t exactly look like her description. She’d proved him wrong, though — there was a small clearing a few paces beyond the creek, where there were no factories or houses in the distance, and the horizon stretched on and on for ages.

It wasn’t a Hogwarts view, but it had been something.

They’d been in bed since nine, and he’d been waking up every hour. Harry kept seeing the same thing… Malfoy, jeering at him, laughing, as he whispered in Parseltongue. The floor shook as the basilisk moved, and Ariel was stuck to the floor, unable to move and Harry couldn’t help —

When he woke up the third time, Harry decided to go and ask Snape for Dreamless Sleep.

The second the thought entered his mind, he’d frozen. Could he go and do that? Would Snape give it to him? Harry thought so — liked to think that Snape wouldn’t just send him back to bed. Snape only seemed to pay attention to him nowadays when he was in danger — if he wasn’t, he was ignored. Harry didn’t know whether or not to be bothered by this. If he asked for Dreamless Sleep, though, didn’t _that_ count as being in _some_ amount of distress since he was having nightmares? Then Snape would _have_ to talk to —

No, that was the _entirely wrong_ reasoning to go and ask Snape for a potion.

Harry decided to put on a brave face and go do it, even if that was Ariel’s department. He almost considered waking her out and making _her_ go and do it, but that was ridiculous. Ariel would do it without pause, but it made Harry feel ridiculous.

He crept out into the hallway, letting out a sigh of relief when he saw the light from the cellar filtering into the hallway, only to have his stomach tie itself in knots again. Did Snape have the entrance Warded? Merlin, _that_ was the last thing he needed — setting off Wards and waking up his sister and probably making Snape _really_ mad for the first time all break. He’d done a good job at _not_ doing that.

As a test, Harry shoved his arm through the doorway, ready to catapult himself back into bed when Snape came flying up the stairs. Nothing happened, and so he silently crept down the stairs, making his breathing deep and even. What was wrong with him? Why the hell was he so damn nervous?

He hit the the landing, finding Snape’s back turned to the stairs. He was bent over a cauldron filled with something yellow — it smelt like honeydew and sunlight. It looked like all of the color in the room was being absorbed into his black robes — Harry wondered if he owned anything else.

“Sir?” Harry called hesitantly.

Snape’s head shot up as he spun around, his eyes flashing. “You shouldn’t be down – what’s wrong?”

He blinked. “How do you know something’s wrong?”

“Your shirt is covered in sweat – or at least, it had better be.”

Harry looked down – his shirt was clinging damply to him. He hadn’t even noticed. “Oh – er, yeah. I um… you wouldn’t happen to have some Dreamless Sleep, would you?”

Snape quirked an eyebrow. “You’re asking a potion’s master if he has Dreamless Sleep in his inventory?”

He bit the inside of his cheek. “Is that a yes?”

“Wait here.” Snape ducked around a corner as he laid the ladle on the stool – just how big _was_ this basement?

Harry tucked his knees under his chin, huddled on the stairs. There was even more clutter down here, somehow. To the right of the staircase, there were boxes of what appeared to be junk. Harry wondered why in Merlin’s name Snape didn’t just throw it all out – was he some kind of hoarder?

He leaned over the railing, peeking into one of the cardboard boxes. It looked like… baby stuff? There was a fuzzy yellow blanket, and what looked like a mobile. Had this stuff been Ariel’s? Harry tried to picture Snape trying to take care of a baby — he couldn't.

When he returned, he was carrying a vial of the purple potion, appearing deeply troubled. He handed it to Harry wordlessly.

“Do you have nightmares often?” asked Snape. Harry shoved the potion into his pajama pocket — he’d wait until he got back into bed.

Harry shrugged. “From time to time, I guess. I haven’t since term ended… they just wouldn’t stop tonight. Every time I closed my eyes I kept having the same one, over and over…” He shuddered.

“About the Chamber?” Snape’s eyes were dark and intense, like he was trying to see inside his mind.

“No… it was just a stupid nightmare.” Harry sighed. “I had a dream Malfoy was the Heir… he was laughing… I couldn’t get him to stop. He was like… a broken record or something.”

Snape gave a ripping snort in response. “I recall his mother telling me that the pictures of the Dark Lord in old newspaper gave him nightmares for a month when he was eight or nine.”

Harry’s mouth stretched into a grin. “Did she really?”

“Yes,” Snape turned back to the cauldron began to stir with the ladle again, giving Harry a pointed look. “don’t you dare repeat that.”

“I won’t.” He snickered, covering his hand with his mouth. “Some Slytherin he is.”

“Careful, Mr Potter.” Snape tilted his head slightly. “There are some who could say the same about you and your affiliation with Gryffindor. Though, your sister falls under that category too, I suppose…”

Harry frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“The two of you are… anomalies.” Snape had begun to stir counterclockwise. “Neither of you seem comfortable in your respective Houses.”

“I’m comfortable in Slytherin!” Harry argued.

“Yes, your sidekicks are a prime example of that.” Snape rolled his eyes.

“I knew Ron before I was even Sorted!” He shot back, cheeks reddening. “And Hermione… she’s brilliant! I wouldn’t have figured half of the Stone business if it wasn’t for her… you wouldn’t have been warned about Ginny and known to come back!”

“I’m not invalidating your friendship with Weasley and Granger. I’m simply stating that _that_ may be why most Slytherins are cold towards you. Do you not see the way they treat the Lestrange boy?”

Harry blinked. “Are you talking about Damon?”

Snape made a noise like sounded like a growl. “Unfortunately.”

“You can’t just call him Malfoy?”

“No – that’s _Draco._ His _cousin_ only holds the Malfoy name because his aunt didn’t want him a pariah for the rest of his life… he’s a Lestrange.”

“Fine,” Harry huffed, rolling his eyes. “What did you mean, then?”

“For lack of a better word, the boy is… bizarre.”

Harry couldn’t help it – he laughed. It was quite possibly the first time Harry knew what Snape was talking about without having to decipher it, or wonder if there was some double-meaning behind it. Damon _was_ strange.

“But he and Draco fight _all the time._ You know that – Flint’s had to come and get you! Draco _hates_ him!”

“No, he doesn’t, Potter.” Snape finally looked up at him. “Draco is _jealous_ of Lestrange – he probably feels like he’s had the rug pulled out from underneath him.”

“Why?” Harry cocked his head in confusion. “I mean, Damon mentioned that he hadn’t told Draco he was friends with Ariel –”

Snape turned to look at him, a ghost of a smirk on his face. He looked like he was waiting for Harry to connect something together, but Harry didn’t know what it was he was supposed to be figuring out. Malfoy hated him because… well, because he was Malfoy. He’d made it pretty clear he didn’t like Harry that much their first train ride…

“Do you really not know?” Snape shook his head, the ends of his lips twitching. “Well, Mr Potter, I regret to inform you that your rejection of Draco’s invitation to be his _friend_ was mostly likely the onslaught for all his animosity.”

“His _friend?”_ His eyebrows furrowed together. “Well, why would I be? He insulted my parents and Ron!”

Snape looked exasperated. “Yes, Potter, because Draco _wanted_ to be.”

_“Me?”_ Harry squeaked. “No… that's impossible!”

“Is it?” He quirked an unkempt eyebrow at him. “Have you not noticed how overly invested the boy is in your extracurricular activities? Your sister told me he’s the one that spotted Quirrell kidnapping you — following you would be a stellar example of jealousy at its finest. He also wanted to be on the Quidditch team. Granted, Draco wanted _your_ position, but didn't you think the boy was simply trying to do something that would align you with him?”

Harry sputtered. “Ariel’s never noticed it! No — everyone _knows_ how much he hates me!”

Snape rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Your sister tends to lack a certain perceptiveness when it comes to discerning others, at times. She also loathes Malfoy infinitely — she holds a great deal of contempt for the Malfoy family because of her friendship with… the _other_ boy.”

Harry tried to hide a smile. “She's protective.”

Snape made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat.

“Is _that_ why you don’t want Ariel friends with him?” Harry asked, surprised by his honesty.

“The _both_ of you.” Snape sighed, dropping in one half of the Valerian root. “He is not someone to align yourself with,”

 “You and my mum were friends, weren’t you? She was a Gryffindor…”

Snape stopped stirring. “We were… but we also had friends within our own Houses. It’s why we grew apart.”

“Well, I don’t want to lose _my_ friends…”

“You don’t _have_ to.” He said, a sharp edge to his voice now.

“I just… get a feeling that Ron would get angry at me.” Harry hung his head. “They’re not _all_ that bad… Zabini and Nott are alright. They don’t hang around Malfoy much. Daphne is okay too… a bit snobbish, but she’s nothing like Pansy.”

“Pansy Parkinson has the personality of a rancid carcass.”

“She’s like the girl version of Malfoy.”

“Slytherin is divided.” Snape sighed. “You’ll see it more as you get older. The older students tend to try and shield the younger ones from it – it’s a layer of protection, until you’re old enough to understand the choices that will be given to you. Find those you know you can plant a seed in, boy. Slytherin united is stronger than all the Houses combined — don’t tell your sister that.”

Harry considered Snape’s words for a moment as he began to sprinkle some kind of blue dust into the simmering potion. He didn’t how much he believed the Malfoy-wanting-to-be-his-friend thing, because it almost made him want to throw up. All Harry could hear was Malfoy sneering that the basilisk would mistake Ariel for his Muggleborn mother, and his hands started shaking. That had definitely been the lowest — well, maybe pushing Harry off the broom, too. But Malfoy hadn’t exactly _pushed_ him… he’d slipped, and if he thought about it, Malfoy’s hand had grabbed his wrist just as —

No no _no —_ Snape was… well, Harry didn’t know what he was trying to get at. Yet.

“Why’re you being so nice to me?” Harry asked quietly.

Snape’s head snapped up. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re… talking to me without insulting me.”

“I believe it’s called a _conversation_ , Potter.” Snape looked mildly offended.

“Yes but… it’s not… _unpleasant.”_

Snape scowled down at the potion. “The moon is known to induce madness.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, thank you… for the _conversation,_ and the potion.”

He stood and reached into his pocket, feeling for the potion to make sure it was still there. His fingers brushed against the acorn, causing a sharp feeling to shoot down his spine.

“Potter.” Snape called quietly.

Harry backtracked two steps. “Sir?”

“I never did thank you.” He said, his eyes on the potion, his face insinuating like if he looked away, the cauldron might tip over. “For what you did for your sister. It is… to deceive the Dark Lord long enough to subdue him is not an easy feat. You may not see or feel it, but Slytherin is your home, despite whatever nonsense Malfoy spews at you.”

Harry was speechless — he didn't know how to respond to that. There was a distant ringing in his ears, one that matched the expression on Snape’s face.

“You… you don't have to thank me for that, sir.” Harry said when he finally found his voice, fighting an unexpected lump in his throat. “She's my sister… she came for me when Quirrell took me… I love her. I’d do it all over again, if I had to.”

“You _did_ shove your arm into a basilisk’s mouth.” Snape muttered. “That’s a bit excessive.”

“Okay, maybe not _that_ part, but —”

“I was being sarcastic.” Snape waved him off. “Go to bed — it’s late, and if you’ve already been up half the night…”

“Right… goodnight, sir.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

It didn’t hit him until he reached the top of the stairs. Harry spun around and stared down at the landing, expecting Snape to be there with a knowing smirk on his face or something, but he wasn’t. All Harry could hear was the sizzling of the potion Snape had on.

He smiled.

Harry reached into his pocket and felt the acorn, and no longer wondered.

* * *

The acorn began to burn against his hand a week after Harry had spoken to Snape in the middle of the night. It weighed like a ball of lead in his pocket, matching the one that had settled in his stomach.

He couldn’t shake the guilt that engulfed him. It had come in little droplets, the prelude to a hurricane, and then it had hit him all at once, in sheets, like a spontaneous monsoon. Harry hadn’t been able to pin why the acorn had been a symbol of comfort… it was really weird, if anything, that junk from Snape’s desk could make him feel two radically different emotions. Maybe there was something wrong with him…

Ariel had begun to notice Harry’s strange behavior — they’d spent one rainy day trying to get one of the Muggle film rolls to work. He couldn’t concentrate, not giving a single damn about it. He felt like curling up in bed and lying there until the end of time.

“Maybe we should take a break.” Ariel suggested after Harry had accidentally ripped the sheet film. The projector was on, illuminating the left wall, dust particles spinning in the air. There was a lot of that up here — dust. Snape refused to come up, so it had been up to Harry and Ariel to clean, but they’d been putting it off. Between the two of them, they sneezed at least fifteen times every hour.

“No, let’s keep going.” He began rolling it up again, only to make the tear bigger. “Dammit!”

“Okay, intervention time.” She grabbed the film from his hands and shut off the projector. “What’s going on? You’re acting like you committed a murder — spill.”

“It’s nothing.” Harry muttered, looking down at his hands.

“Don’t be a pill.”

“I’m _not._ Nothing’s wrong.”

“Yes, there is. I caught you pacing this morning. You don’t pace. You lounge in bed until I decide to get up.”

Harry wanted to know how long she’d been pretending to be asleep when he was awake, but decided that issue was for another time. He didn’t know how to respond to her. He _wanted_ to tell Ariel, and he knew that _she_ wouldn’t dare tell Snape. The Snooping Incident had been _their_ secret.

“Do you not like it here?” Ariel asked quietly. “I know it’s not the Burrow, but…”

Harry looked up, startled. “No — of course not. I’ve had more fun here… well, then I thought I would’ve.”

“Do you miss Ron, then?”

“No… I mean, yes, I do, but that’s not it.” He sighed, reluctantly reaching into his pockets. “It’s _this.”_

He opened his palm to her, and Ariel leaned forward, her dark eyes bright with curiosity.

She frowned. “The hell is that? An acorn?”

“Yes, it’s an acorn.” Harry snapped. “I stole it from Snape.”

A funny look passed over her face, and then, Ariel burst out laughing.

_“What?”_ Harry yelled angrily, standing up.

She immediately sobered, wiping at her eyes. “I’m… I’m sorry. You… okay, give me a second. You stole an _acorn_ from _Severus?”_

“Yes!” He shot back. “What’s so hard to understand?”

“Dad doesn’t… collect acorns.”

“It was in his desk.”

A look of horror passed over her face, and then, grim understanding. “From when Tom was around? Why’d you take it?”

“It was in his junk drawer… I heard you coming… I don’t know, okay? I was an idiot.”

“So, then…” Ariel looked confused now. “What’s wrong? I doubt Dad’s noticed it missing — oh, crap, _wait…”_

“What?” an impending sense of doom fell over him.

“He did ask me about it… I had no sodding clue what he was going on about, but he _did_ ask. He must’ve assumed Tom had…”

Of course Snape would notice a stupid acorn missing from his desk. It was just Harry’s luck.

“Harry… listen, I know we talked about this…” Ariel closed his hand around the acorn so that she was holding his. “but Dad doesn’t hate you… anymore.”

“Then why isn’t he around?” He demanded. “Why is he always in the basement? It’s because I’m here, right?”

Ariel blinked. “No — not at all. Harry, Dad _lives_ down there. This is how I spent most of _my_ time when I was a kid. So… if you feel badly… which I kind of think you _do…_ ”

“You think I should _tell him?”_

“I can tell you feel guilty… I don’t think he’ll be too mad. I used to steal stuff from him all the time when I was little to mess with him.”

“I think that’s a little different, Ariel.”

“Okay, okay, bad example. My point is that… Dad takes a while to get used to. He wouldn’t have brought you home with us if he didn’t like you, _especially_ if he hated you. I think after everything that happened this year, he’s trying to regain some sense of control.”

Harry considered this. He definitely wouldn’t be able to get through the rest of the holiday not fessing up — he’d go mad before he turned thirteen. Maybe if he went about it… if he was just _honest…_ it wouldn’t be so bad. It was just an acorn anyway… though, Snape would probably be madder about Harry going through his stuff. And Snape had been… different since the Chamber. Once he’d calmed down, anyway. He’d been downright terrifying for those forty-eight hours.

“You’re probably right.” Harry muttered.

“I’ll butter him up, if you want.” Ariel offered. “You just kind of have to… what’s that Muggle phrase?”

“Bite the bullet?”

“Er, no, but I’ll take it, whatever a bullet is.”

It had made Harry feel a little better, but not by much. He still felt like he had a guillotine hanging over his head. All he could think of was _Dursleys Dursleys Dursleys,_ but the part of his conscious that wasn’t completely terrified told him Ariel would never let that happen. 

That night, Harry waited in the doorway of their room as Ariel conducted her Nightly Snape Talk. He couldn’t make out what they were saying exactly, but every once in awhile he caught words. Tonight, he’d heard his name four times, Snape groan twice, and something about Hogsmeade.

“Night, Dad.” when Harry spotted Ariel in the doorway he launched himself back into bed. As she walked in, she shut the door behind her and whispered. “I told him I’ve decided not to take Divination, so he’s not as tense.”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

“You’ll be fine.” Ariel squeezed his hands. “You’re doing the right thing, brother.”

“I hope so.” Harry said under his breath.

He felt like he was marching to his death as he padded down the hallway. He stood in the doorway of Snape’s study — he was filling out paperwork of some kind, it seemed. The candlelight bounced off his crow-black hair.

“Sir?” Harry called softly.

His head jerked up, like he’d been disturbed from a deep sleep instead of writing. Harry wondered if he was constantly on the alert for an attack, or if Snape was just wired that way.

“Your sister just went to bed.” He said, setting down his quill.

Harry nodded, “I know. I was waiting for her to.”

“Do you need more Dreamless Sleep?” Snape’s eyebrows furrowed together.

Harry marveled then, as he took another step forward towards the desk. A year ago, if he’d of heard that Ariel was asleep and taken off, not daring to stay alone with Snape. A year ago Snape would have warded his quarters against him. There _was_ something different between them after Riddle, a closeness that wasn’t emotional or physical or anything Harry could put a name to.

He didn’t talk about their mum with him.

He couldn’t live with Snape with the object burning a hole through his pocket.

Harry placed the acorn on the desk.

Snape looked up rather slowly, glancing at it mildly before doing a double take. His head straightened, and then his body followed. His hands disappeared under the desk. Harry stared down, ashamed, and felt the first wave of anger hit him from Snape’s direction.

“I found this,” Harry said, “in your…” He was going to say junk drawer, but decided against it, _“bottom_ drawer.”

“So it was _you,_ then.” Snape said, his voice ice with something burning underneath it.

He looked up, startled, “You noticed it missing?”

“I figured it had been your sister, when the Dark Lord… I thought she – _he_ must have just misplaced it.”

“I didn’t mean to take it.” Harry said sincerely, “I heard Ariel coming and panicked.”

When he gathered the nerve to looked up, Snape’s face was twisting itself between emotions. It seemed like he was trying very hard not to lose his temper, which confused Harry. He’d been expecting for Snape to get angry and yell, for him to retract the offer that Harry could stay with his sister and him immediately, because _no one willingly took him,_ especially Snape, who hated his dad but had loved his mum and loved his sister –

“And _what,”_ Snape asked in a dangerously quiet voice, “were you doing going through my things, Mr Potter?”

“I thought you were lying.” Harry said bluntly.

Now it was Snape’s turn to be taken off guard, though it didn’t stick to his face like it did Harry’s. If anything, it only seemed to add to the boiling anger Harry could see bubbling across Snape’s face.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, “I shouldn’t have done that. You… you let me stay here and I… violated your privacy.”

“What else did you go through?” Snape asked coldly. His face had gone as smooth as fine marble.

Mentioning the chest definitely didn’t seem like a good idea from what Ariel had told him, so Harry simply shook his head, “Nothing… I couldn’t get anything else open.”

“Just _what_ did you think I was keeping from you?” Snape snarled, “Not that you would have any rational reasoning, but please, _do_ continue. I’m rather curious.”

“Mum.” Harry breathed, so softly he cringed, knowing Snape would only get angrier with the lack of a response.

_“What,_ Potter?” He snapped, just as predicted.

“I didn’t think you really knew my mum.” Harry said loudly, green eyes meeting black.

Snape went rigid in his chair. The fury slowly drained from his face, the muscles still taut, though oddly, relaxing, like Harry’s words were washing something away. But the eyes stayed dark and fathomless, and glittered in a way that was not dangerously, but oddly…

“And why, Mr Potter,” Snape said, clasping his hands tightly in front of him, “would I lie to you about something like that?”

“Because it didn’t make any sense to me.” Harry said, his voice thick. He cleared his throat and tried to fight the stinging in his eyes, he would not cry, he would _not —_

“And now it does?” He raised an eyebrow.

Harry blinked back uncomprehendingly. Why wasn’t get screaming his head off, making things shake like he did when Ariel made him mad? Where was the fire and brimstone and the sudden apocalypse?

He didn’t answer Snape’s question, but instead, began a long-awaited staring match with the floor, “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll understand if you don’t want me in here anymore…”

“Potter —”

“I… I’m sorry…” He said again, moving to escape, because Snape was acting… _not_ like he was supposed to. No one _willingly_ took Harry… no one except his sister, but she didn’t count because she was obligated, maybe, and Snape hated him because he looked like his dad and Harry had _stolen —_

“Your mother gave me this.” when he looked up, Snape was holding the acorn up, inspecting it.

Harry’s heart skipped a beat.

“She did?” He whispered, chest growing warm. He’d been carrying around something his mother had held, something his mum had once touched and felt…

“She’d been throwing them at me.” Snape said, “I may have insulted your aunt… she had a nasty habit of calling your mother all sorts of names.” His face twisted with hatred, though Harry could see it was the memory he was recalling and not him, “Petunia was a jealous little thing, very unpleasant to be around, but your mother defended her because she was her sister. And in retaliation for insulting _Tuney,_ Lily pelted me with acorns until I apologized.”

“Did you?” Harry asked, allowing tiny smile spreading across his face.

“No,” Snape snorted quietly, “I wouldn’t apologize for something I thought was justified. But your mother… she handed me this acorn, and told me I’d get worse if I ever called Petunia such names again.”

“What’d you call her?”

“I’m sure you can venture several guesses.” Snape said wryly. His expression hardened then, and he stood, coming to lean against the front of the desk, “You realize that stealing from a professor is punishable by expulsion.”

Harry’s stomach promptly dropped to his feet.

“Relax, Potter.” Snape rolled his eyes and rubbed his temple, “I won’t let that happen. I’m trying to show you the… possible severity of your actions.”

“You mean… I’m not in trouble?” Harry looked at him in disbelief.

“I would like to wring your neck,” Snape said, too casually, “but I believe that… perhaps I drove you to it.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t know what to say to any of this. Snape didn’t… _forgive._ Snape didn’t stay _calm._ He’d seen the way he’d acted after Quirrell and Riddle. He screamed and _broke things_ and got very, quite scary. Harry had _stolen_ from him, _him,_ James Potter’s son, the one who Snape had tried to humiliate and hated because he didn’t look like his mum…

“Why are you doing this?” Harry asked, his throat aching.

Snape gave him a look of exasperation, “Doing _what?”_

“Not yelling at me.” He said quietly, “You can’t stand me. You only tolerate me because of Ariel.”

“Potter,” He said, “the series of events you and your sister have put me through this year makes this transgression pale in comparison.” Snape gave him another long look, “And I don’t think concern and any negative feelings coincide with one another. I would like to think you’d have learned that by now.”

“But…” Harry chest burned, his hands shook, “I _stole_ from you… because I thought you were a _liar._ Just like last year… I… I don’t deserve –”

“You don’t decide what you do and don’t deserve!” Snape snapped, “In case it hasn’t caught your attention, Mr Potter, there are worse things in this world than sticky fingers, and if you think that hinders my plans to make sure you are _safe,_ you are gravely mistaken.”

Harry couldn’t believe his ears. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak.

“I wouldn’t lie about your mother,” Snape said in a quiet voice, very much unlike him, “not to you, or your sister.”

He took the acorn from the desk and held out his hand to him.

* * *

**End of Part I**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’ll be uploading the start of PoA later today — until then!


	54. Escape

**Part II**

**Prisoner of Azkaban**

_“I don’t think people understand how stressful it is to explain what’s going on in your head when you don’t even understand it yourself.”_

_\--_ Sara Quin

* * *

 There was no light to be found, Sirius thought to himself as he awoke with a start. It was his first thought every morning, and before he fell asleep at night. Day and night were synonymous, here, however, the words meaningless to him. The world outside was dark; the world had _gone_ dark for all Sirius knew.

He knew nothing.

_No light no light no light_

There had been light that night, Sirius recalled, as he did every time he awoke from fitful slumber. Thunder cracking across the sky, though no rain fell, and lightning that blinded him as he’d walked up to the house in Godric’s Hollow. Sirius had looked up at the gaping chasm in the roof and thought _Merlin please no not James not Lily not the kids the baby James –_

It had flashed when he’d found James’ body, heard their cries, the light –

He didn’t dream – they weren’t deep enough to even begin to scratch the surface. Sirius had nightmares, yes, he dreamt of James and his family and Remus and Peter –

_Peter_

and reaching for them, running, falling, screaming so hard his throat tore itself in two, weeping –

Sirius shoved his hands through his hair and pulled, pushing and forcing the memory from his mind. But Peter was dead, the thought bringing a twisted smile to his haggard face. Peter was dead and so were _James and Lily –_

Someone yawned obnoxiously, hitting a note so high a professional soprano would be proud.

Sirius really fucking hated Bellatrix.

It was like sleeping next to the entire sectioned-off ward of St. Mungo’s every night since they’d moved him down here. He couldn’t even turn into Padfoot, because if Bella starting fucking talking to him, she’d hear the _POP_ that came along with changing into his Animagus form, and she’d rat him out the second a guard decided to skulk on by. She _hated_ when Sirius ignored her.

Bella had always been like that, always doing things that left Sirius disgusted or so mad he wanted to break something. When they’d been kids, he and Regulus had found her cursing herself in a broom closet, and while Reg had wanted them to go and tell their mother, Sirius had decided to just leave her be. If that’s how Bella got her jollies, he sure as hell wasn’t going to interfere. It was the same situation now, except, it was never ending. So Sirius talked to her, because sometimes, it took his mind off of things, and because it was fun to piss her off. She couldn’t do anything, especially if a Dementor came gliding by. He’d anchored himself to the fact that he was innocent, that he hadn’t fucking lowered himself like Peter had, that those kids were out in the world, that _Harry_ and Ariel were safe, at Hogwarts. Remus, Sirius was sure, would have seen to that.

Then again – Jesus fucking _Christ –_ his life had actually come down to talking to Batty-Bella to keep himself going.

He was so fucked, and Sirius deserved it.

“Good morning, cousin dearest.” Bellatrix called to him in sing-song voice. She was in the cell beside him. This section of Azkaban had thick concrete walls between cells, which meant he didn’t have to look at her ugly mug _and_ hear her blabber on and fucking on. 

Sirius grunted, letting her know she’d heard him. No response meant she screamed, and too much of a response gave her the idea he _wanted_ to talk to her. Sirius wished they’d fucking move her – he _hated_ not being able to find refuge as Padfoot.

“You know, I realize something.” She sighed. It sounded like she was stretching. Sirius hoped she’d somehow dislocate her shoulder or something, crazy bitch.

Sirius didn’t even allow himself to venture a guess. He heard Bella growl when she didn’t get a response, and Sirius fell against the wall and conceded, “And what’s that?”

“He starts his fourth year soon.” Bellatrix told him, that grating, fake dreaminess coating her voice.

Sirius rubbed at his eyes, “Who the sodding fuck are you talking about?”

“Damon!” She whispered, nearly hissed, “My son… my baby…”

“You mean the one you tried to fucking kill when the Aurors came?” Sirius asked dryly. He’d gotten the paper a week or so after Halloween, seen what they’d done to Frank and Alice… they had a son too… saw what Bella had tried to do to her own when the Aurors had finally cornered her and Rodolphus…

“Fourteen… fourteen… fourth year…” She was moaning, like this pained her. The day Bellatrix felt motherly love for her son was the day Sirius began calling Voldemort the Dark Lord.

So did Ariel. Harry, _his_ Harry, would be in his third year.

Third year, James and Peter and him had decided to become Animagi.

“I cast my first Unforgivable when I was his age.” Bellatrix said thoughtfully, ruining the single happy thought he’d had in several days, “Rod was sixteen… took him a while to stomach it. He used to be such a weak thing…”

Sirius decided to not respond to that. A risky choice, but he couldn’t stand to talk to Bella about her Satan-spawn. He didn’t give a flying fuck about the kid. Talking about Damon Lestrange meant that when the boy went to school, he was there, there with _them,_ with his god kids, his godson, his –

“Did you hear me, dear cousin?” She nearly sang. He could hear her hands moving up and down the bars of her cell.

“Shut up, Bellatrix.” Sirius muttered.

“I always said,” She never fucking stopped, “if I had sons, if I had a _son…”_

“Well, you don’t Bellatrix.” He snapped back, _he didn’t have a godson his godson he was out there but he couldn’t go…_

“He’s still mine.” Bellatrix sighed, longingly, “one day… one day…”

“Don’t hold your breath.” Sirius said under his, and tried to squeeze himself into the corner farthest away from her. He wished she’d just shut the fuck up and leave him alone. Talking to her reminded him he was in Azkaban, and if he couldn’t escape reality, couldn’t think of James and Lily and Remus and James James _James –_

“Tell me,” Bellatrix prattled on, “do you ever think about _trying_ to let them know the truth? I imagine you can only swim so far deep into your self pity before you drown.”

“Funny,” He barked a laugh, “I said the same when I figured out you were the maddest of them all, and yet, you’re still kicking, Bella.”

“I have hope, Black.” She giggled, “My Lord will return… and what do you have left to hold on to? Potter and his Mudblood wife are dead, and you’ll never see their children. The second the Dark Lord returns, he’ll finish what he began, and you’ll still be here, helpless. Nothing will have changed, really… not from in here…” 

She was right, but Sirius wasn’t going to fucking tell her that. He hadn’t anything, save the notion that he hadn’t directly led Voldemort to James and Lily and their children, the very ones they were all supposed to be protecting. Sirius could lie in his cell, Padfoot or not, and bask in the truth that Peter had been the one… but Peter was dead. He’d gone and blown himself up along with those Muggles, a fate well deserved. Sirius’ only regret, besides letting Peter take over as Secret Keeper, had been that he didn’t deliver the final blow himself.

Sirius let his mind wander as Bellatrix finally quieted.

_“Harry, fucking Christ – Harry NO!” He’d yelped as the baby waved his wand in his chubby hands, “Remus, will you fucking do something?”_

_“You really shouldn’t curse in front of them.” Remus had scolded, balancing Ariel on his hip as he made tea._

_“C’mon, Remus, this isn’t funny! Lils is going to walk through that door any second, and if she sees that I let the baby get my wand again –”_

_“Well, who’s fault is that? I always tell you and James that you shouldn’t leave them lying around when they’re running about…”_

_“It’s not my fault James’ kids are growing to be kleptomaniacs.” Sirius had growled, and then had put on his cheesiest grin for Harry, “C’mon kiddo, give Padfoot back his wand.”_

_Harry had gurgled and waved it some more. Somewhere from behind him, a plant vase had shattered, and Remus and him had winced –_

The door at the end of the hallway was opening, the metal _ca-clink_ jarring Sirius back to the present. As he opened his eyes, his usual plate of shit, which they claimed was food, appeared beside him. He grabbed the dirty cup of water and raised it to his lips as a tall, blonde figured flew by his cell.

Another twisted smile crossed his face. Lucius Malfoy? Well, _those_ visits must be interesting to hear.

“It’s been a long time since you’ve come, brother.” Bellatrix sounded angry, but it was covered in that hunger that always changed her voice in a scary kind of way. It didn’t phase Sirius, but the hairs on the back of his neck automatically stood up.

“My apologies.” Lucius drawled back, sounding anything but, “Things have been rather… _busy,_ at the manor lately. Narcissa is redecorating.”

“Redecorating takes priority over my _son,_ then?” Bellatrix shrieked, and Sirius couldn’t help but jump. He swore under his breath. He wondered if she got loud enough, he could quickly change into Padfoot and find a bit of peace for a bit.

“Of course not.” Sirius didn’t know how Lucius did this so calmly, “I was simply offering an explanation to –”

“I don’t care!” She hissed, “How is he? You're still privately tutoring him, yes?”

“The boy has no interest.” Lucius sounded… annoyed, “We stopped last summer.”

“No _interest?”_ Bellatrix snarled, “Impossible! He’s a Black! You’re obviously doing something wrong. If I were there, he’d be more talented – stronger than half of our own! The Dark Lord taught me _himself.”_

“I’m aware, yes, Bella. Damon has been rather… he’s a distant boy. He doesn’t show the same… _enthusiasm_ you did.”

“You’ve gone _soft!”_ She screamed.

“I have _not.”_ Lucius finally snapped, “Your _sister_ has made it very clear that she wants the boys kept away from our work until they’re of proper age, anyway, and since Damon hasn’t shown any curiosity…”

_“Why?”_ She bit out.

“Maybe it’s because you tried to fucking kill him.” Sirius muttered, low enough that she couldn’t hear.

“Patience, Bella.” Lucius sighed, “He’s doing well, in all other regards. He does well in school – high marks all around.”

“And how is… Draco?” _Not that I care,_ her tone finished.

“He takes about the Potter boy far too often for my taste. He complains of him in every letter he writes to Narcissa.”

Sirius’ heart swelled and twisted. He leaned forward hungrily, alert and eager to absorb.

“Ah, what does he say of _them?”_ Bellatrix asked in a dangerously curious voice, “I _do_ look forward to learning more about them some day, from our Lord.”

“The boy was with Muggles, or so Draco says. He tells me he’s insufferable, much like his father.” Lucius drawled, “The girl, however– _that_ little tidbit hasn’t reached most ears. She was raised at Hogwarts, but I know that Severus has fooled the old man into letting him raise her, primarily.”

Sirius dropped the metal cup with a clatter, the sound echoing around in his body. His teeth rattled, his entire body seemed to vibrate as he began to shake. There was a roaring that sounded like the ocean, like waves crashing with such force that they would surely rip open the ground and suck him back with the tide.

_No no nononono_

It

wasn’t

_possible._

Not fucking _Snivellus._ He couldn’t have heard him correctly. Snape was a Death Eater – they hadn’t seen him since school ended, but where else would he have gone? Why the fuck would he have James’ daughter? Snivellus hated James’ fucking _guts._

_“SNAPE?”_ Bellatrix shrieked, echoing Sirius’ thoughts.

“Do calm yourself, Bella.” Lucius sounded bored, “You must recall that he has a cover to keep, don’t you?”

_COVER?_ What the sodding _fuck –_

_“Malfoy!”_ Sirius stumbled towards the bars, reaching his head out as far as it could go, “Malfoy, what the fuck does that mean?”

Lucius’ turned slowly, an arrogant smile already plastered across his face as Sirius’ panicked eyes met his. He was dressed as ridiculously as ever – in robes Sirius’ mother would have wept with joy over, probably worth more than his pathetic existence ever would be.

“Oh, hello Black.” Lucius purred, “I do forget that you’re still skulking around here most visits.”

“I always knew he couldn’t be trusted!” Bellatrix was practically foaming at the mouth, “Traitorous little Halfblood bastard!”

“Bellatrix – shut the _fuck_ up – _answer me,_ Malfoy!” Sirius snapped.

“To what are you referring?” He raised a blonde eyebrow, “The girl? Ah, yes, I bet you wonder quite a bit about your godson and his sister. Unfortunate, really.”

“What do you mean she’s with Snape?” Sirius demanded, his heart triple its regular rhythm, “He’s one of _you!”_

Lucius’ lip curled back in amusement, “Did nobody think to tell you? Well, I suppose not, seeing as you _betrayed_ their parents – but yes, you heard me correctly. Snape has the girl. The boy grew up with some filthy Muggle relatives.”

His mind began to race. Sirius fell away from the bars, landing on his bum. Remus wouldn’t have… no, he… he was… _Remus…_ how could… they… given her… _separated…_

_Snape._

Over his dead _fucking body._

“You’re lying.” Sirius croaked out, “You – Dumbledore would have never let her go with a Death Eater! _Never!”_

“Oh, but he did.” Lucius was clearly enjoying himself, “He asked Dumbledore himself – spun a tale of repentance and redemption. The chit is miserable, from the looks of it, but to have the Girl-Who-Lived under his thumb…”

“You’re LYING!” He roared, throwing himself against the bars, wanting to rip that smug smirk off his fucking lying Death Eating face, the pretentious fucking _prick –_

“And of course, the boy as well.” Lucius mused, “With a Potter in Slytherin… well, I suppose they’re right where Severus wants them.”

Sirius’ vision blurred. He _had_ to have been lying… trying to get a rise out of… pulling his fucking already short chain…

What if he wasn’t?

Oh Merlin, what had he done? What had he done oh gods what had he –

He had to do something. Malfoy’s words echoed inside his head as Sirius fell against the wall. He was going to be sick. His head felt like it was inflating, like something inside of him was going to explode. Not the kids. He’d… he’d…

He could hear Bellatrix saying his name – _Black Black Black dear cousin Black –_ but Sirius wasn’t present. He was…

Lily Harry Ariel _James Harry James_

A Potter in _Slytherin._

_HARRY_

The wards blared hours later, Bellatrix shrieked, but Sirius Black was nowhere to be found.

A black dog made landfall miles away.

* * *

“I need a favor.” Ariel said as she plopped herself down on a stool beside her father the day before Harry’s thirteenth birthday.

“Do you?” He was brewing in the basement of their home, a batch of Blood Replenisher, from the looks of it. The sounds of the potion simmering were calming, though the smell was rather horrid. She hated when he brewed potions that smelt bad. Dreamless Sleep smelt nice, like fabric and sun, but anything medical for Madam Pomfrey usually made Ariel want to gag.

“It’s Harry’s birthday tomorrow.” She gave him a pointed look, “I know we’re going to the Weasley’s, since they’re coming back and all, but I think it’d be nice if we did something too. I _have_ missed out on nine of them, mind you.”

“The boy is turning thirteen,” said Severus, “not returning home from war.”

“I want to bake him a cake or something.”

He snorted, “You’ve never baked so much as a piece of toast.”

“That’s not true!” She scowled, “I can cook! How much different can it be from brewing a potion?”

“Very,” Severus smirked at her, “a cake is _supposed_ to taste good.”

“Yeah?” Ariel challenged, “and how many cakes have _you_ baked before?”

“None, because it’s a ridiculous tradition.” Her father rolled his eyes, reaching for what looked to be a pile of chopped of Valerian roots, “Blowing out a candle on a cake and making a wish is one of the most ridiculous –”

“It’s the thought that counts, but while you’re at it, why don’t you have a go at Christmas?”

Severus gave her a look that was a borderline glare, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Instead, he carefully dropped the roots into the cauldron and began to stir counterclockwise.

“A _cake?”_ He sighed, deeply.

“He likes chocolate!” Ariel beamed, sitting up straighter, “Cake _and_ frosting, and maybe we could –”

“Ariel,” He grabbed her chin, “child of mine, light of my life –”

“Green letters.” She leaned toward him eagerly, “He likes green – you should too, Slytherin and all.”

“Are you ready?” Her brother’s voice called impatiently from the top of the stairs, “We’re going to be late!”

The Weasley’s had been in Egypt since the third week of June, so this would be the first time Harry and Ariel would be seeing them since holiday had begun. She was eager to see Ron, and Ginny, for that matter, who she hadn’t been able to successfully corner when she’d returned at the end of the school year. Mrs Weasley had written to Harry and insisted, like last year, that she host a dinner for his birthday, though he’d, for some reason, wanted to do it the day before instead of his actual birthday.

“Don’t you say a word!” Ariel hissed at him as Severus pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, and ruin the surprise?” He gave her a one-eyed look, “The thought _pains_ me.”

“Severus?” Harry called, the sound of feet descending the stairs, “Is Ariel down there? Either she’s ignoring me, or she got lost raiding the fridge before.”

“I’m afraid the latter can be eliminated.” Her father said with a dry smirk.

“You’re both hysterical.” Ariel rolled her eyes as her brother came into sight, “Really.”

Harry gotten a bit taller in the past few months, she’d come to realize as he came into their view. He was her height now, and not as skinny as he had been when her and Severus had rescued him from the cupboard. Ariel feared the day Harry became taller than her, because for some reason, she seemed to always be looking _up_ at everyone.

“Alright, Mr Impatient.” Ariel sighed dramatically, “I’m ready. I was just asking Dad for a tranquilizer for when you didn’t want to leave.”

Severus snorted, putting a Stasis charm on the potion.

“Early is on time,” Harry said in mock seriousness, “on time is late.”

“Who said that one?” She rolled her eyes.

“Professor McGonagall.” He grinned, looking at her father, “You didn’t _actually_ give her anything, right?”

“I’m sworn to secrecy, but I wouldn’t let your drink out of your sight tonight.” Severus replied sardonically.

Ariel giggled, but wiggled her eyebrows at her brother.

“Let me grab my shoes.” She said, giving him a playful shove, “And my broom.”

“You’re going _flying?”_ Her father asked, sounding surprised, and yet, as always, wary.

She stopped on the stairs, shrugging, “Might as well. I know Harry’s been itching to fly, and I’d like to have a go at Quidditch if they decide to play a game.”

Harry was grinning, almost proudly.

“You’ve created a monster.” Ariel heard Severus tell Harry as she bounded up the steps and into her room, quickly slipping on her shoes.

She heard the Floo roar to life, and the sound of footsteps entering their living room.

Ariel immediately froze. She nearly fell over, for she was in the process of slipping on a shoe, but caught her balance on her bed and listened.

“Severus?” An old, but strong, voice called to the house.

She let out a sigh of relief. It was only Dumbledore. Ariel kicked on her shoe and peeked out of the doorway, just catching sight of her father ascending from his lab, Harry right behind him. She got a flash of orange robes behind her father’s dark frame.

“Albus?” Severus appeared just as taken off guard as she was.

“I apologize for the unexpected visit,” Dumbledore said, his voice urgent, “but I need to speak with you.”

“What is –”

_“Alone,_ if you please.” The Headmaster interrupted. Ariel had crept to the end of the hallway to stand beside her brother. His eyes were narrowed.

Her father turned to look at them, eyes flashing.

“Do not leave,” Severus told them, “until we’re finished.”

Ariel nodded. Harry sighed, looking dejected, but it didn’t reach his eyes. She could tell he was just as curious as to what was going on as she was.

Severus jerked his head at Dumbledore in the direction of his study and gave Ariel one last meaningful look, one she didn’t understand, but made her feel a sense of dread, as the door closed.

* * *

Dumbledore was waiting for him with an air of purpose when Severus entered the study, closing the door behind him firmly. He could still feel Ariel and Harry’s eyes on him, asking a million questions he did not yet have the answers to.

“What is it, Albus?” Severus stepped further into the room, his voice steadier than his mind as thousands of thoughts flashed through it.

He seemed to struggle with the words, like he wanted to handle whatever it was delicately. It only made Severus angrier – couldn’t he just spit it out, whatever it was? Why did the old coot try to soften blows with him anymore? He’d lost that right, anyway, twelve years ago.

“Albus?” Severus asked in a snappish voice.

Dumbledore sighed, and his blue eyes pierced right through him, “Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban.”

It took several breaths for his answer to register. When they did, Severus felt his lungs seize, oxygen suddenly scarce. The room seemed to tilt out from underneath his feet, the light suddenly took bright and burning his skin like boiling oil. Severus felt all of his hatred, buried in the notion that Black was suffering, explode and spill over the edges. His gums itched, and when he felt himself inhale again, it burned.

_I thought you were going to keep her safe_

“How?” He asked through bloodless lips.

“We don’t know.” Dumbledore leaned on the back of the desk chair, looking just as disturbed, and yet, calculating, “It happened just this morning – early.”

“You don't know _how?”_ Severus demanded through bared teeth, “A man escapes _Azkaban_ and you’ve no clue as to how he accomplished such a feat?”

“I’ve been assured that every Auror employed is looking for him at the moment.” He said seriously, looking grave, “However, if one is able to escape Azkaban, it raises concerns about locating him in a timely fashion.”

Severus couldn’t speak for a long moment. He leaned against the bookcase beside the door, mind racing, murderous rage growing. Black… it wasn’t possible... _Black…_

A thrill of fear clutched at his worn and weathered heart.

“He’s escaped to find them.” Severus finally spoke, the truth, the only logical explanation for this random act, after all these years…

“That’s what I suspect, yes.” Dumbledore gave him a long look, “To finish the job.”

His stomach rolled. Severus felt his spirit tug him in the direction of the door, to _them,_ to the girl. He wanted to grab them and disappear somewhere far away, flee the country. That would, of course, all be in vain. They’d be protected at Hogwarts, better than Severus ever could with every ward and spell and curse in his arsenal.

“You’ll need to strengthen the wards,” Severus said quickly, beginning to pace, “around the school, I mean. He… he shouldn’t have a clue that they’re here… no one, except you do… they’ll keep a low profile until terms begins, no outside contact.”

“I agree.” Dumbledore nodded, “Though I’d like to ward your property myself, if you’ll allow me to, to clean up at spots I feel are particularly lacking.” 

Severus nodded – yes, make sure everything was failsafe, make sure no one could get to them, no one, not even Black Black _Black –_

“You’ll warn them, I trust?” He asked, blue eyes full of pity, and Severus could feel that it was for the children, whose peace and freedom from fear was already being ripped from them once more.  

“I’ll speak to them, yes.” His mouth felt dry at the prospect of the boy’s eyes widening in dread, Ariel’s face crumpling like paper held to a flame. The notion of Harry’s _godfather –_

His blood boiled and reeled, and then froze over, crystallizing and burning his skin.

“I went to see a friend before I came here.” Dumbledore went on, “I believe he’ll aid us in protecting them against Black, should it come to that.”

Severus paused, a wary look passing over his face, “Who?”

“Remus Lupin.” He was watching him carefully, the way Fawkes did whenever Severus entered the Headmaster’s office, “I’ve asked him to accept the Defense position, come September.”

Something roared against his eardrums, and deep inside his heart.

“NO!” Severus snarled, his hand slamming against the wall.

“Severus,” Dumbledore held up a hand, “I trust Remus. I’ve hired him to _help_ keep Black away from them.”

“I don’t want Lupin anywhere _near them!”_ He hissed, “He is… he is…” _An abomination, a monster, a Potter-worshipper, a distrustful, lying piece of –_

“That may prove difficult,” He interrupted, “seeing as Remus is Ariel’s godfather.”

The world went white once more. Something inside of him yelled and tried to wrestle free, but he pushed it down down down, where he kept everything, though it did not stop the wave, a combination of horror and homicidal fury, from washing over him, soaking and wrapping itself into his bones.

“Her… _what?”_ Severus felt his lips form the consonants.

“Remus Lupin was named Ariel’s godfather.” Dumbledore said calmly. “Though, I believe he’ll act as both of theirs, in Black’s stead. I don’t want Harry to know. I fear he’ll go after Black, if he was to find out.”

A savage desire for strong emotions and sensations burns inside of Severus – he’d barely heard the rest of whatever it was Dumbledore was rambling. A rage against this… a mad craving to smash something –

“I want it rectified.” He hissed, _“Now.”_

“I can’t do that.” Dumbledore shook his head, “What’s done is done. He’s been her godfather all these years, Severus. He _does_ have a right –”

“No _werewolf,”_ Severus shouted, “especially _that_ one, is going to be godfather to my child!”

“Apparently, Lily thought it so.”

Severus couldn’t help it – he flinched.

“And they made Black the boy’s!” He hissed, “Look how well _that_ worked out!”

“He agreed the second I told him of the threat.” Dumbledore said, reasoning in his voice that Severus didn’t hear, “It’s been many years since he’s seen them, Severus. He wishes to help in any way he can.”

“The only thing he’ll be _helping_ with is getting Black into the fucking school!” Severus roared, “How could you even _think_ to trust him?”

“Remus is just as concerned as anyone. You will recall, that he was as close with the Potters as –”

“I don’t _care_ if he was so close that Potter had begun to call him _brother!”_ Severus was vibrating, he couldn’t see straight, “He is, as far as I’m concerned, going _nowhere_ near my daughter or Harry!”

“He is a good man, Severus.” Dumbledore’s voice lost a bit of it’s sympathy, “Remus has spent many years alone, engulfed in grief and guilt. He’s only trying to make right what he let go. He has a right to see them, and as much as a reason as you do to protect them from Black. Do not make the mistake of thinking you are the only one who cares for their wellbeing.”

“If he cares so much,” Severus sneered, “then why hasn’t he made an effort to see them? Tell me where he was when his _godchildren_ were orphaned, when his _friend_ gave up her mother and Potter?”

“And where were you, Severus,” Dumbledore asked quietly, “when Ariel was born?”

It felt like a hand had reached inside his chest and tugged everything out. The words slowly hollowed him, eating their way through his heart and mind. The voice laughed at them, ate them up gladly, and smiled, while Severus fought to crush the guilt into fine powder.

“I don’t trust him.” Severus rasped, “If they get _hurt_ because of him, Albus, I swear to Merlin, I’ll kill him.”

“The one person you should worry about is Black, Severus,” Dumbledore told him, “and of course, Ariel and Harry.” He clasped a strong hand on Severus’ shoulder, “Do not make the same mistake when it comes to Remus and Ariel as you did with young Harry, my friend. I’ll be outside inspecting the wards, and then, I’m afraid I need to return to the Ministry to help the search.”

Severus nodded numbly, not hearing the door open. He heard nothing, save his ragged breathing.

The _werewolf…_ the fucking _werewolf…_

Black.

But _Black…_

_James and Lily put their trust in the wrong person, Severus, much like you did_

The memory pushed itself up through his layers of Shields, the meaning of those words now doubled. Severus could not fathom, of all the things his conversation with Dumbledore had revealed, how he could _trust Lupin._ There had been Black, who Potter had worshipped to the ends of the fucking _earth,_ and then Pettigrew, a waste of a thing, the fan in the stands watching Potter and Black’s games, and Lupin –

The last time Severus had seen Lupin had been the night he’d been with Lily.

_Godfather._ Of all the _things…_

“Christ, Lily.” He moaned into his hands.

Ariel would trust him; Severus could see it already. She’d latch onto him, and Lupin would let her, and the _boy –_ forget it. He couldn’t let her put her faith in someone who Severus didn’t trust, because if she did, Black would find them he’d find them how the _fuck_ had he _escaped –_

“Dad?” A small voice called from the doorway. He turned, to find both Ariel and Harry (the boy’s name still sounded strange, aloud and within the confines of his mind) staring at him from the doorway.

“You’re staying here.” Severus hissed, and then wordlessly, slammed the door shut.

* * *

The kitchen had begun making a shepherd’s pie around the usual time they ate, though her father had yet to make an appearance. When it served itself, Ariel and Harry had barely touched it. The food tasted like ash in her mouth, and her stomach had burned against her father. Ariel could tell Harry was a lot more upset than her – he’d been looking forward to seeing Ron all summer, knowing that their birthdays were probably the one day they’d get. For her father to cancel minutes before they were going to leave without explanation… cruel didn’t seem like the proper word, but it sure as hell _felt_ like it.

Harry and Ariel had barely spoken a word since her father had practically slammed the study door in their face. Whatever Dumbledore had said to him had obviously left him in a foul mood. Her father hadn’t been that way all summer so far. Ariel, or at least in her mind, might have considered them all to be – dare she say it – _happy,_ but, as always, it was short lived.

They were sitting in their bedroom now, across the room from one another on their beds. Ariel was pretending read, secretly waiting for her father to open his study. She had an ambush planned.

She glanced at her clock. It was thirty minutes to twelve. Severus hadn’t even emerged to go to bed yet.

“Great day, huh?” Harry mumbled from across the room. He’d been flipping through a Quidditch magazine Ron had sent through the Floo went they’d told him they wouldn’t be coming.

“I’m sorry, Harry.” Ariel sighed, “Really.”

“Not your fault.” He muttered, “He’d better have a sodding good reason. _We_ didn’t do anything.”

“This is ridiculous.” She sighed, jumping off her bed. “I’m getting to the bottom of this.”

“You’re just going to make him mad.” Harry called, though it was halfhearted. She knew he wanted to know what the hell was going on as much as she did.

She ignored him and stalked down the hallway.

“Dad?” Ariel knocked lightly, preparing herself from the door to be thrown open and make her stumble back. But she heard no noise – the doorknob did not twist, and there was no response from her father.

Growing annoyed, Ariel turned the knob herself and peeked into her father’s study. He was sitting at his desk, hunched over, a hand rubbing his forehead. Ariel hadn’t seen him look this stressed since between Riddle had taken her and Harry down to the Chamber.

She slowly approached him, her anger fading at his demeanor. Her heartbeat began to speed up – what could Dumbledore have said to put him in such a state, cancel their plans and keep them here without offering any kind of explanation? Severus was a man of few words when something was troubling him, but Ariel couldn’t fathom why he’d simply shut himself away without giving her and Harry _some_ kind of answer.

“What’s wrong?” Ariel crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

Her father had a glass half filled with dark liquid. Drinking meant he was probably mad about something.

“If you’re angry with me,” Severus finally said in an icy voice, “I suggest you _leave,_ because I am in no mood to bicker with you.” 

“I’m not mad,” She was – she was _very_ mad, “but we’d like to know what’s going on.”

“You realize…” Severus hesitated, “I wouldn’t have stopped you both from going before if I didn’t have a very good reason not to.”

Ariel shrugged and looked away.

“My verbal articulation seems to have not been passed down to my offspring.” He gave her a look.

“I’d figured.” Ariel murmured, “We just want to know what’s going on, Dad. We’ve been going a bit mad.”

Her father’s mouth parted, but then his eyes flickered to the doorway. Ariel followed his gaze. Harry was standing in the doorway, leaning against it, like he was the audience to some kind of show.

“It seems I have no choice.” He said flatly.

Before Ariel couldn’t retort, he stood, corralling her and Harry into the living room. She noted that he’d brought the glass of alcohol with him.

Harry and her seated themselves on the couch, while Severus sat on the coffee table right in front of them.

He downed the rest of the glass, and set it down with an audible _clink._

“Sirius Black.” Severus said, and Ariel noticed how his hands spasmed when he said the name, “I’m certain I’m correct in assuming you both have no clue who that is.”

Ariel blinked, but followed her brother’s motion in shaking her head.

“Twelve years ago,” His black eyes were fierce and intense, “when the Dark Lord was defeated, enraged by his master’s loss, Black murdered thirteen people on a street full of witnesses. Twelve Muggles, one wizard. He was sentenced to life in Azkaban prison, where he has remained, until the early hours of this morning.”

“He _escaped?”_ Ariel choked out, “How do you escape _Azkaban?”_

“Precisely the point.” Severus growled, “It is a… remarkable feat, as much as it is disturbing.”

“Wait, what’s Azkaban?” Harry asked, looking puzzled.

“It’s a wizard prison.” Her father explained, the lines in his face harsher. “It’s inescapable – or, it was, until this morning.”

“Why’s he escaped after all this time?” Harry asked, eyes narrowed, “Why now?”

Her father didn’t answer right away. His dark eyes, as dark as his face had turned, looked between the both of them. From the corner of her eyes, Ariel saw him reach for the empty glass, as though he’d forgotten he’d finished the whiskey.

“We believe it’s to find the both of you.” said Severus.

Ariel felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured down her spine.

“What?” She bleated, “Why _us?”_

“Can you think of nothing that would constitute him wanting revenge?” Her father’s jaw clenched tightly, so much so that it appeared painful.

It had hit her like a ton of bricks.

_Oh._

“So… he’s escaped because we defeated Voldemort?” Harry asked, his face paling.

“Precisely.” Her father nodded shortly, “Which means you’re both not to leave this house until we depart for Hogwarts. I could not let you go to the Burrow before… not with such a high level threat. We have to assume that if Black could escape Azkaban without being caught, that he has a way of finding you both. Which brings me to my next point.” Her father’s face seemed to meld into the shadows, and for a split second, filled with so much hatred that Ariel felt her chest grow cold, “The Headmaster has found a new Defense professor.”

She and Harry shared a look. With their luck, this one would probably have Voldemort hiding in his armpit or something.

“Who is it?” Her brother asked cautiously.

“His name is Lupin.” Severus looked directly at Ariel, his eyes hollow, “And Professor Dumbledore has just informed me that he was named your godfather, Ariel.”

She couldn’t have heard him correctly. Ariel looked back at her father blankly, and tried to wrap her head around the context of his words.

“What?” She asked, feeling stupid.

_“Godfather?”_ Harry repeated with disbelief. It seemed it had clicked with him before it had with her.

“Yes,” Severus seemed to regard with word with so much disgust that any flicker of happiness that popped into her mind at the idea was gone in a puff of smoke, “your _godfather.”_

Ariel’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times, not knowing how to process this information. Harry looked troubled. Severus still looked like he was more likely to breath fire than that dragon Hagrid had harbored her second year.

“What…” She had a million things she could have said, a _billion_ things she wanted to ask about him…

“You’re to stay away from him.” Her father said, a bit impatiently, “I want you nowhere near him, unless it’s Defense related.”

_“What?”_ Ariel looked around wildly, _“Why?_ You’ve just said he’s my –”

“I know what I’ve said!” Her father snapped, “I don’t trust him!”

“But Mum and Dad made him my godfather!” the words flew from her mouth before Ariel could think on them.

She couldn’t ignore the slight flinch her father gave in response to referring to James as _dad._

“There are things,” He said, “you don’t have the capability to understand.”

“Why would Professor Dumbledore hire him then?” Harry demanded.

“Because _he_ trusts him.” Her father near-snarled, _“I_ don’t.”

“Why?” Ariel asked, “What’s wrong with him? Why bother telling me he’s my godfather if you don’t want him around us?”

Severus seemed to struggle with the words. Ariel got the feeling he was trying not to say something too scathing against him, too profane, “I didn’t want you blindsided. You have a right to know, as I’m sure he would have _enlightened_ you to his so-called title eventually.”

“But… if he’s her godfather… he was friends with our parents!” Harry looked a bit bewildered, like the conversation was making as much sense to him as it was to her, “They wouldn’t have made him her godfather if they didn’t trust him, right?”

A funny look passed over her father’s face, like Harry had said something terrible.

“You will learn,” Severus said in a voice that sounded like it came from somewhere deep and cold, “that people are not always as they seem.”

“Do _I_ have a godfather too, then?” Her brother asked, looking suspicious. “Why is he just _hers?”_

Now Severus looked like he’d been told that Lily had come back to life.

“I don’t know. Dumbledore only told me about Lupin since he’s now under his employment.” He said tonelessly, standing. Ariel’s mind whirled – they couldn’t be done _already –_ she had so many questions. “I won’t be signing your Hogsmeade permission slips when they arrive.” Severus said, “Not until Black is found. It’s far too much of a risk.”

Ariel wanted to argue that sentence – she’d barely gone this past year, between Tom’s control and her recovery, but she seemed to have lost her voice. Harry just looked disappointed, and angry, like Severus was keeping a huge piece of something from them, which he probably was. Ariel didn’t even know where to begin guessing _what,_ but she had a pretty good idea that it had to do with both this Sirius Black and her Stranger Godfather Lupin. Did he have a first name? She didn’t think it was a good idea to ask Severus at the present moment – every word that had come out of her mouth only seemed to make him angrier and angrier.

“It’s late.” Her father said. Harry was making noises of protest, like he didn’t know where to begin with talking either, “Go to bed, the both of you.”

And then he was gone. Ariel silently noted that if she had nightmares tonight, which she probably would, that she wouldn’t be seeking refuge with him. Severus was about as comforting as a basilisk when he was in this frame of mind – obviously livid about this godfather-thing, and panicking about Sirius-Black-The-Convict.

“What the hell just happened?” Harry asked her.

“You’re asking _me?”_ Ariel shook her head tiredly, “I have no clue.”

“Are you going to listen to him? About this Lupin bloke, I mean.”

“Do I have a choice?” She sighed, “I don’t know, Harry. I’m still wrapping my head around the fact that I _have_ a godfather.”

“Yeah.” He said, and Ariel could have sworn there was something bitter there.

“Let’s go to sleep.” She mumbled, wanting to lie in darkness and clear her mind. She almost wished she hadn’t made her father tell them what Dumbledore had said.

Once Ariel was in bed, she glanced over at her clock. It was fifteen minutes after midnight.

She quietly slipped out of bed and sat on the edge of her brother’s.

“Harry?” Ariel whispered.

“Yeah?” He muttered, turning to look at her.

“Happy birthday.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I was really nervous about this chapter and starting it off with Sirius’ POV. If you didn’t catch on to why Lucius was saying what he did… we’ll get there, I promise. Please let me know what you thought! Predictions and comments and what you’d like to see are really helpful. (I obviously changed dates/facts of events around here, if anyone is like ???what???)
> 
> I also want to point out that things may be a bit tense for a while, because of – take one wild guess – Snape. It’s nothing like CoS, rest assured, but keep in mind that Remus is coming, and so is Sirius, and Snape doesn’t like sharing. Just some food for thought, to old reader and new.
> 
> Please review! Xx


	55. Wilder Mind

The darkness was bright with the sounds of the night, and they drove Sirius onwards.

It truly was great to be Padfoot again — to be able to feet the earth beneath his paws, to force the irrational, the man in him, to somewhere apart from him — to be kept for safekeeping.

Sirius had forgotten a dog’s senses, how every little noise made his ears perk, how every smell distracted him. How the grass felt soft and reassuring underneath his paws — how every new unexpected sigh of the wind caused his head to jerk up in attention without being able to stop himself.

On the idea of safety – James’ kids weren’t.

Sirius had begun his journey north — to Hogwarts. It would take him a least a fucking month to get to the castle by foot, and Ariel and Harry would _definitely_ be there. He’d no sodding clue where Petunia lived, if Harry was even still _with_ her, and even then, _that_ wasn’t guaranteed to work.

Forget looking for Snape’s — Sirius didn’t have a _wand._ He’d nothing but Padfoot as a weapon, and his protection.

He wondered what month it was.

It had to be late summer – the air smelt sweet, like something clean and fresh and young. Sirius could see a group of poppy’s even in the darkness – his eyesight was quite good at night, better than his human form — 

_“Fourteen,”_ Bellatrix had hummed, her voice famished, _“fourth year…”_

Perhaps it was Harry’s birthday today. Maybe Ariel’s.

Maybe Sirius had missed them again, as he had for the past twelve years.

* * *

 

Waiting for the Hogwarts Express left Remus with an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia, and dread.

He knew he shouldn’t be, but he couldn’t help but scan the throngs of students and parents and look for a redhead and raven haired paired together. His efforts, as they always seemed to be, were in vain, and Remus sighed as he lugged his belongings – all of his belongings, in fact – onto the train.

Albus had found Remus in a little shack of a building forty minutes outside of London working as a bartender. The building didn’t even have a name; it was simply known as “The Bar” to those who lived in the surrounding area. Remus hadn’t a clue how Albus had even found him after all these years – he’d all but dropped off the face of the earth when he’d come to tell him James and Lily had been killed. Isolated and secluded and away from society Remus had mourned those he’d come to call his closest companions – dare he say it – his _family._ James and Lily and the kids… the baby... and Peter… and Sirius, who had ruined everything in a single moment.

After hearing of Sirius’ escape, how could Remus have said anything but no? He owed James’ children at least the decency to protect them when their safety was in jeopardy. Remus could at least do _that_ right, when it was asked of him. He’d failed miserably as a godfather, disappearing when his title was waiting to be claimed.

And… though Remus hated himself for hoping, it gave him the opportunity to see his goddaughter and by extension, godson, after twelve long years.

He’d thought a lot about them since Albus had come to see him. He’d thought about Sirius, who, even after all this time, to Remus, still didn’t seem like the kind of person who would have murdered his best mates and tried to kill his own godson. The bitter truth continually twisted his organs every time he questioned it, and then reality would set in, and Remus would be left with nothing but the harsh reality that Sirius _had_ to have willingly given up the Potters. It just hadn’t made any _sense…_

Then again, many of the things Sirius did had hardly made a lick of sense. After twelve years in Azkaban prison, he’d be mad anyway.

(It still made absolutely no sense, because Sirius had been with him for every moment, more than Peter, more than anyone, he’d watched those kids grow in the short time they’d known them)

Ariel had arrived on the third of August, just fifteen minutes after midnight. James and Sirius had been off on a mission for the Order since the baby wasn’t supposed to be due until the ninth. She’d come early, though, and as each hour had passed with Lily descending further and further into labor, Remus had spent the time trying to locate James. He’d been unsuccessful – no James, no Sirius… he hadn’t even been able to get a hold of Peter.

When the time had come for Lily to push, Remus had been the only one to be with her, holding her hand as she screamed and cried. James had arrived with Sirius an hour after Ariel had been born, excited and eager. It had confused Remus – he’d expected James to be torn to bits… but he’d simply…

They’d only been nineteen… nineteen, and they were huddled in a hospital room with a baby. Nineteen, and fighting, even when two of them were parents, and nineteen and _unknowing –_

It had been strange, when Lily and James had sat him down to tell Remus they were expecting. Not a month before Lily had cold feet about marrying James, and now they were engaged and had a baby on the way. Remus hadn’t believed his ears at first. It was all happening so suddenly, that by the time Ariel _had_ arrived, he felt like he’d somehow missed those nine months in between.

Remus remembered Lily’s forehead had been coated with sweat, her scarlet hair tied back in a messy bun, but the smile on her face made her glow with happiness. Remus could see a small bundle cradled against her chest, a small patch of red on the top of the child’s head. He’d left her alone to go and track down James, only to find him running down the hall towards their room.

“Remus,” Lily had rasped, clearing her throat and giving him a watery smile, after James had held the baby. “how’d you like to hold your goddaughter?”

Nothing could have prepared him for those words. Remus had stood there, stunned, his legs and arms suddenly void of feeling as James clapped him on the back, giving him a small push forward.

_“Me?”_ He’d whispered, making no move to receive the child that Lily was holding out to him.

He couldn’t have unseen the cracking look of hurt that flashed across Sirius’ face, even if he wanted to. Even after what he’d done, it’d haunted Remus, because making him godfather over their firstborn over Sirius hadn’t made a lick of sense.

His mind had later justified it as Lily being the one who had wanted him, had probably fought James for it. Lily had become one of his closest companions over the years. Sometimes, Remus thought, even more than James, Sirius, and Peter. She had a kindness that made everyone gravitate towards her. Remus could recall many a night while Lily had been pregnant when she’d expressed her worries, as she had when James had first proposed, nights when the sun would come creeping over the horizon and they realized they hadn’t slept a wink. James had often been with them on those nights. They’d been young, thrust into the middle of a war, and terrified, but Lily and James’ children had shed light in the midst of all the darkness and the unknown.

Remus had taken the bundle hesitantly – he’d be the one to drop the baby, he told himself _not_ to think –  and sat down at the edge of Lily’s bed. The baby had burrowed closer to the warmth, and in that moment, Remus had felt a sense of importance, like he’d some kind of role in the world that was clearer than the most pristine river or lake or cloudless sky.

Six months past, and then, Lily had announced that she was pregnant, _again._ Remus had nearly passed out, looking over to Ariel, who had been happily gnawing away at the edges of James’ scarf, and wondered how the hell they were going to handle _two._ There were four of them around, always on the clock, working in shifts. Peter hadn’t been around much those days because his mother had been sick. Usually it Remus with Lily and Sirius with James, which he’d continually reminded himself was a _terrible_ idea, but since Ariel had yet to crawl into the fireplace in their care, he’d reluctantly taken the Lily-shifts when James was away.

And then, Harry had been born.

Lily had only been alone an hour or so with the baby (suddenly Ariel had stopped being _the baby_ in that moment and had begun to be called by her given name) before she’d asked Remus and Sirius to bring her in. Ariel had been cranky, Remus recalled, her head nestled in his neck and little arms wrapped tightly around him as he’d carried her in to meet her new brother.

He remembered the pure _joy_ that had welled up in James’ eyes, of how he’d scooped him up when Lily had handed Harry to him and held him close like the new baby had been the most precious thing in the world. He’d watched James cry as he sat in that rocking chair, big, fat tears rolling down his face as a head full of black hair had burrowed itself against his robes.

James had looked happy when Ariel was born, had cried right alongside Lily, but his son’s birth had been something Remus would never forget. It was like… this was his firstborn… but it _hadn’t…_

“Love, look who’s here!” Lily had crooned, reaching up for her as Remus handed Ariel to her. She’d be a year old in just three days, Lily had been crooning to her for the past week. Sirius had been betting they’d share a birthday, but Harry had come right on time, instead of later.

Ariel had cried out, squirming a bit at the loss of contact, clinging to Remus.

“Moony’s been holding you all night.” Sirius had rolled his eyes as James handed him the new baby. _His_ godson – Lily and James had told him a month prior, unlike Remus, who they’d surprised.

Ariel blew a raspberry at him then, making Lily laugh. She had always found it funny when Ariel had given him a hard time, saving herself half of the fights. There was no way for Sirius to win an argument against a soon-to-be-one-year-old, though he’d tried time and time again. 

“You have a new baby brother.” Lily had whispered softly as Ariel reluctantly settled into her lap, shoving a thumb into her mouth.

Ariel had pointed at the baby, gazing around them room, confused. They’d laughed.

They’d decided on Harry a month or so ago, after one of James’ relatives, who had fought for Muggle rights. At first, Lily had said she’d wanted the sex to be a surprise again, but as the war raged on and things became more and more uncertain, Remus had found her sobbing in her bathroom one day about the future of her children. She’d done the spell when James had come home. They’d already had names picked out – Holly for a girl, Harry for a boy. Ariel hadn’t been able to pronounce the _H_ in _Harry_ once she’d started talking _,_ so she trailed after Lily and the baby, calling him _Ree._ Lily had thought it was adorable, but James had spent _hours_ with her trying to get her to say it the right way.

And then they’d gone into hiding, and taken his goddaughter and Harry with them.

And then Sirius had killed them.

In his grief, Remus had disappeared, not opening a wizarding newspaper for five years, not knowing anything about where Ariel and Harry had gone. Over the years, his guilt had slowly crept over him –  perhaps he should go and check on them, just make sure they were alright, but he’d lost that right. It’s wasn’t like he would be able to do anything if Ariel and Harry were unhappy. The Ministry would never let a werewolf…

He remembered, but nothing was the same anymore.

Remus sighed, and boarded the train.

* * *

 

The second half of Ariel’s summer had been significantly less enjoyable than the first half.

Her father had been on edge since the day Dumbledore had come to warn them of Black, so much so, that he didn’t even go down into the basement to brew anymore. He sat in the living room, or his study, all day. He checked in on Ariel and Harry, who found their haven in their bedroom, at random times, scaring the living daylights out of them if they were in the middle of doing something. The attic had even been banned. There was one instance in particular when Harry had been feeding Hedwig and Severus had thrown the door open to check on them. Hedwig, who hadn’t been allowed out of her cage, had decided to make a run for it.

Needless to say, the recapture of Hedwig and been _extremely_ unpleasant, and had ended with Severus threatening to cook her instead of the roast they ended up having that night. Harry and him had even had a row, since, according to Severus, letting Hedwig out could alert Sirius Black to wizarding activity. Harry had been forced to stop writing to Ron and Hermione until term began. Ariel had asked what the odds of Black finding them in the middle of a Muggle town were, and Severus had said the odds of her being grounded were much more likely.

Ariel hadn’t been able to get a single detail out of him about the mysterious Lupin bloke, though it was a rare occurrence when she tried to ask, because all it did was make Severus _very_ angry. It was the kind of anger that flared up when someone mentioned James around him, and so, Ariel was about to venture a guess that Lupin had been mates with him, and her mum, at some point. It made her stomach hurt when Ariel thought about it, because something told her that this year may just turn out a whole lot like her second year all over again. Maybe she’d get lucky and have a reason to hate this Lupin guy like Severus seemed to… or, maybe Voldemort was hiding on the back of _his_ head.  

She didn’t know how to feel about someone who may or may not have been close to her at some point –  been close to her _mum._ Merlin knew she drank up every detail her father let slip. It was so very rare for him to talk of Lily at all… and there was so much Ariel still didn’t know. Perhaps… this Lupin fellow…

Well, Ariel wouldn’t be getting much of anything, good _or_ bad, if her father continued to act like the disciplinarian on bloody steroids.

She and Harry had a countdown going until term began – they’d made a collage of it out of these things called Sticky-Notes in all different colors that Hermione had sent in a package to Harry for his birthday _(You know, Harry, you should really be more organized,_ her note had read, bossy as ever _)._ They’d covered the entire wall in between their beds with it, switching it daily to mark the days as they went by. The first time her father had saw it, Ariel was quite sure he was going to make them take it down, because it looked rather ridiculous if she was being honest, but Severus had just glared with enough force to _almost_ incinerate it on the spot, and said nothing more on the matter.

It seemed that even he was looking forward to going to back to Hogwarts. Ariel figured that at least there, the wards were impenetrable. Harry had, however, voiced going to at least Hogsmeade, for this would be his first year where he’d be able to go, but Severus had been _very_ vocal about _that._ He continually refused to sign their forms, although, Ariel noted that he never got rid of them. They were sitting on his desk in his study, where all their other school papers were. He’d sent away for their supplies by owl as soon as their letters had arrived, because apparently, not even Diagon Alley was safe from Sirius Black.

Term couldn’t come fast enough, and when it did, Ariel nearly fell out of her bed trying to get ready the morning of. She couldn’t wait to see Damon and Ron and Fred and George – hell, even Hermione sounded better than sitting around Spinner’s End for another day. Ariel would take a lecture on _Hogwarts; A History_ over this slow, very boring, very tense, torture. Part of her even dared to hope that _Severus’_ demeanor would brighten a bit once they returned to Hogwarts. 

Her father, unlike years past, stayed with them until he saw them get on the train. Severus didn’t stand with them, but stood nearby, under Polyjuice, sneering at students. He looked like a guard dog warning off potential intruders.

Ariel had quickly said hello to the Weasleys and dashed onto the train, eager to get away from her father for a couple of hours. She understood a lot better than Harry did why he was acting like such a nightmare, and loved him to death for it, but not being afraid of him billowing into a compartment was a welcome sight. It also gave her an opportunity to see if anyone had heard of this Lupin fellow that she’d be meeting in a couple of hours.

She didn’t know why, but the possibility of Stranger Godfather Lupin approaching her made her insides twist more than the idea of Sirius Black did.

Her luck seemed to pick up the second Ariel stepped onto the train, for the first person she saw was Damon.

… and Draco.

_Eurgh._

“Hi,” Ariel greeted Damon, a bit breathless. Harry was right behind her with Ron, who were eyeing Draco with warnings in their eyes.

He’d gotten taller over the summer. Damon ran a hair through his hair, which had also grown out quite a bit, and smiled sideways at her. Draco was eyeing her like she was something found on the bottom of his shoe, but when he caught sight of Harry and Ron, it turned into a full of sneer.

“Down, boy.” Ariel muttered to her brother.

“Hello yourself.” Damon smirked at her, “Great timing – I was just about to start looking for you.”

Behind him, Draco made a sound of revulsion. Ariel’s eyes flashed at him, and before she could open her mouth, Harry was at her side, his green eyes narrowed into slits and asking Draco to give him a reason. 

And then, he did something that was very un-Draco Malfoy-like; he gave one last withering glare to them, and disappeared down the corridor of the Hogwarts’ Express.

Harry blinked, like he was almost disappointed. Ariel nudged him and he seemed to come back to himself, giving Damon a sheepish grin that suddenly reminded her very much of James Potter.

“Oi, what’s the holdup?” The twins called from behind them, “Let’s move, Potters!”

“Thanks for not Hexing him.” Damon gave Harry a knowing look as they walked on, “Because I’m pretty sure if you had, I’d have gotten caught in the crossfires.”

“There’s this handy thing called shields.” Harry said lightly.

Hermione’s cat, Crookshanks, who reminded Ariel of Pansy Parkinson, hissed, as his owner gave Harry a disapproving look. Ron looked at the animal like he wanted to throw it off the train. Ariel didn’t blame him – the cat was about as friendly as his appearance.

There was someone in the compartment as they all piled in. Ariel could tell it was a man, but there was a tattered woolen cloak covering him so that they couldn’t see his face. He seemed to be sleeping, and when Ariel got a closer look, she, for a moment, thought a homeless man might’ve climbed on board.

“Who’s that?” Ron voiced the question they were all thinking aloud.

“Professor R.J. Lupin.” Hermione said.

Ariel froze. She saw Harry look at her from the corner of her eye, the curiosity and surprise lighting up his green eyes. Something clogged her throat, and she was unable to say anything for a long moment.

“How the hell does she know _everything?”_ Ron asked.

“It says it on his suitcase, Ronald.” Hermione rolled her eyes. Crookshanks’ meow sounded like he was saying _“idiot.”_

_Shit shit shit_

“I’m… going to go find another compartment.” Ariel said when she found her voice, backing out of the compartment with her eyes trained on the sleeping figure. Lupin didn’t stir, or make any move to let them know he was awake and listening.

“What, why?” Damon asked, bewildered. He grabbed her arm as she ducked into the corridor, “Where are you going?”

“Ariel…” Harry began, “C’mon, _wait!_ Don’t go!”

She grabbed Damon’s arm and tugged him down the narrow corridor. She could send him sending Harry a questioning look, but her brother made no move to follow. Ariel growled under her breath. Let curiosity kill the cat, then. She wasn’t ready to meet this Lupin fellow, no matter how much she wanted to know where the hell he’d been for the past twelve years.

“What the hell is going on?” Damon was demanding as Ariel ducked into a compartment at the very back of the train. It was empty, but much too far away from her brother than she would have liked. But at the same time, if this Lupin bloke woke up, there was a good chance he wouldn’t come looking for her back here.

“That man in the compartment,” Ariel fell into a seat, disoriented and exhausted, “is my bloody godfather.”

Damon blinked, “Why is your godfather on the Hogwarts’ Express?”

“He’s the new Defense teacher.” She rubbed her face tiredly.

“He’s not going to try and kill you this year, is he?”

“This isn’t funny, Damon!” Ariel snapped.

“Neither is his wardrobe.” He made a face, “He looks like he just crawled out from under some godforsaken rock.”

“Please shut up.” She buried her face in her hands. Severus wouldn’t have let her on the train if he’d known Lupin was here – she was quite sure of that. With all her bad luck, of _course_ he’d be sitting in the compartment they’d chosen. She wondered why Harry hadn’t come with her.

“I’m sorry.” Ariel heard Damon softly as he took the seat across from her, “I’m only trying to lighten the mood.”

“I know,” She sighed, lifting her eyes, “I’m sorry… it’s just miserable around here since this Black guy escaped Azkaban.”

“Sirius Black?” He looked confused, “What’s he got to do with you?”

Ariel spent the better part of the next twenty minutes explaining everything to him. He’d listened, like he always did, quiet and observant. She didn’t bother asking Damon if he knew him – it was obvious he didn’t.

“So this Sirius Black,” He said slowly once Ariel had finished, “wants to kill you two… because you got rid of the Dark Lord?”

“Apparently.” She said, finding that statement strange, because they _hadn’t_ gotten rid of Voldemort. Not really.

“Do they have any idea of how he escaped?” Damon looked nervous now, wringing his hands in his lap, “Not just anyone escapes Azkaban, you know. It’s where they lock up the wizards who… you know.”

_It’s where my mum is locked up,_ his face told her.

“Has Lucius ever mentioned him?” Ariel asked quietly.

Damon’s face went blank, and had she not been searching his eyes, she wouldn’t have seen how they paled.

“No,” He said quietly, “which… you’d think he would. He’s my cousin, actually, if he’s a Black.”

Now it was Ariel’s turn to blink, “What? Wait… really?”

“My mother’s maiden name was Black.” He shrugged, “She didn’t have any brothers, so I’m assuming so.”

“That’s… a strange coincidence.”

“Everyone’s related one way or another in the wizarding world, especially if you’re a Pureblood. Snape’s never mentioned it?”

She shook her head, “His mother was a Pureblood, apparently. He didn’t tell me that until recently, though.”

“Really?” Damon looked surprised, “What’s the name?”

“Prince.”

A funny looked passed over his face. Before she could ask him what, the train began to slow. Ariel peered out the window, and noticed that it had begun to rain. It was pounding against the glass, like it was trying to break through.

“We can’t be there yet.” Damon frowned, “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” Ariel stood, standing to open the compartment door. Other students, it seemed, had the same idea as her, several heads peeking out to look about the empty corridor.

“Maybe we’ve broken down.” He called from behind her.

The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.

“I’m getting Harry…” She crept forward, but was thrown back into her seat when the train gave a wild jerk.

“There’s something out there!” Damon whispered loudly, his face pressed against the glass, “I see something moving!”

“Coming _aboard?”_ Her stomach dropped to her feet, _“Who?_ We’re in the middle of nowhere!”

“I don’t know; I can’t see…”

The compartment shook again. Damon spun around, about to say something, but then his eyes went to the space behind her, his eyes widening in fright.

Ariel turned.

Standing in the doorway was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Ariel’s eyes darted downward, and what she saw made her stomach contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, grayish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water…

But it was visible only for a split second. As though the creature beneath the cloak sensed Ariel's gaze, the hand was suddenly withdrawn into the folds of its black cloak. And then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings.

An intense cold swept over them all. Ariel felt her own breath catch in her chest. The cold went deeper than her skin. It was inside her chest, it was inside her very heart… hollow and harsh, forcing her eyes shut as it dragged her down. It felt like she was drowning, the way Tom had grabbed her airways and strangled them, forced them –  

Then Ariel heard a terrible cry that pulled at her insides, that expressed agony of a kind that neither flame nor curse could cause, and as she struggled to reach the surface, swaying, more frightened than she had been with Tom, more frightened, perhaps, than she had been in her whole life…

A woman was screaming, and then, there was a deeper sound – a man howling, crying, the sound of sheer agony, like one’s soul being ripped from their body…

And then someone was shouting.

It sounded like Damon. The screaming had stopped, the crying, the cries that burrowed their way through her heart like worms…

Ariel opened her eyes slowly, wincing. There were lanterns above her, and the floor was shaking – the Hogwarts Express was moving again and the lights had come back on. She seemed to have slid out of her seat onto the floor. Ariel felt very sick, like someone had reached inside her chest and taken out of stomach. When she put up her hand to push her hair out of her eyes, she felt cold sweat on her face.

There was a tall figure standing in the doorway when Ariel looked up. It was a man, as tall as her father and just as skinny. He was neither handsome nor ugly – there was something rugged in his face that Ariel didn’t know how to categorize. He appeared to have never experienced a good night’s sleep, for there were deep circles under his eyes, and flecks of grey in his brown hair. His robes were –

Her nauseated stomach leaped all the way up to her throat. Or perhaps it was simply her breakfast.

“Here,” No Longer a Faceless Stranger Lupin was handing her something, “eat this.”

“Wha…” Ariel still felt groggy, “What happened?”

“You passed out.” Lupin said. He had a hoarse voice, “Please, eat this. You’ll feel much better.”

She looked down. He was handing her chocolate – a particularly large piece, actually. Her Inner Severus told her that she shouldn’t, because candy was disgusting and would surely lead to cavities. Ariel warily took it from him, but didn’t eat it.

“Is she okay?” an anxious voice was asking from behind Lupin, “Is she awake?”

“She’s fine.” Lupin said to what Ariel presumed to be Damon.

“What was that thing?” She whispered.

“A Dementor, one of the guards of Azkaban.” Lupin seated himself across from her, opening up her line of sight to the corridor behind him. Damon was standing there, biting his lip and looking worried. He’d gone pale.

“Who was screaming?” Ariel asked, her ears ringing, “Is Harry –”

“Eat, it’ll help.” Lupin commanded again. She narrowed her eyes and looked down at the chocolate. It seemed like he’d given her half of an entire bar. Lupin was watching her with a look that made her chest hurt again.

Ariel took a small nibble, and something warm heated her toes. “Who was screaming?” She repeated.

“No one was screaming, Ariel.” Damon said, “No one said anything.”

“B-but I heard… a woman… someone was crying...” Her eyes widened, “Where’s my brother?”

“He passed out as well, but he’s fine.” Lupin said gently, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and speak to the driver.”

He got up and left, and Ariel simply stared after him. It didn’t even occur to her to even thank him.

“What happened?” She rasped as Damon sat back down, “After I passed out?”

He looked down, “I… I didn’t know what to do. You started twitching… I started yelling for help and Lupin showed up… something silvery white stuff came out of his wand and the Dementor went away.”

Her ears still rang with the woman’s screams. Whoever it had been sounded like they’d be terrified, the kind of fear that Ariel had when she’d seen Voldemort on the back of Quirrell’s head, when Tom had first spoken inside her head… and the man weeping…

Ariel shuddered, took a giant bite out of the chocolate and stood, “I want to see Harry.”

* * *

 

When they’d first entered the compartment, Remus had internally groaned and felt his entire _being_ sigh. He’d spent the entire night lying awake, not that he got much sleep nowadays anyway, contemplating what returning to Hogwarts after fifteen years would yield.

Apparently, it yielded Dementors. Remus would had been disturbed by the sight of Harry dropping to the ground like a rock if he hadn’t been so angry. Had someone given _orders_ for the Dementors to board the train? Who in Merlin’s name thought _that_ was a good idea, when the compartments were full of _children?_

Remus rubbed his face tiredly. Really, he shouldn’t be surprised. When he’d attended Hogwarts, they were training children for war. Back then, in the height of fears, Remus had thought nothing different, hadn’t stopped to think _“just what are we doing?”_

The girl and the boy had looked at him like they knew him, but they couldn’t _possibly_ remember.

Ariel looked _so muc_ h like Lily.

Nothing like James.

And Harry looked like… well, he was the both of them. The eyes, surprisingly enough, were the first thing Remus had noticed. They were as green as holly, bright and expressive and held more than the boy did in his face.

Ariel had always looked like Lily, especially now. Her hair was a deep red, like a fine wine, that fell in waves past her shoulders. She had the same smile, the same nose, ears, height. Looking between her and Harry, Remus could have sworn he was seeing their spirits, had it not been for their eyes.

But something was different about his goddaughter from the toddler he’d left behind. At first, he’d waved it away as Ariel simply being older instead of a baby, but he still couldn’t shake it. There was sharpness in her face Remus couldn’t ignore… something _so_ infuriatingly familiar about it that rang distant bells.

Harry had the unruly raven hair, the crooked James-Potter smile. He was tall for his age, and lanky, like his father had been. He even _sounded_ like James when Remus had heard him joking, but his sense of humor differed from his father’s. It wasn’t until Remus passed by their compartment later on and saw the boy in his Slytherin robes and thought, _“that’s not James,”_ and wondered if that was a good, or a bad, thing.

There was a kindness in the boy’s face that was Lily’s, one that he hadn’t seen in Ariel’s. No, with her, there had only been caution, shining from coal black eyes.

Ariel didn’t look a thing like James. She’d eyed him with an air of… had fear been the correct word? It definitely hadn’t been gratitude. It was… odd, to say the least, after all these years. He could find them both in the boy without speaking a single word to Harry, but Ariel…

Perhaps Remus was simply over thinking. After all, she’d awoken after being attacked by a Dementor to find a strange man shoving chocolate in her face.

Remus hurried up to the castle, hoping that Albus and at least McGonagall would be waiting for his arrival as Ariel’s Head of House. He’d no clue who the head of Slytherin was – Remus had heard Slughorn retired just as the war had ended – but assumed he or she be there as well. His letter had mentioned the both of them… or at least, he thought it had, he’d written it so quickly…

He caught sight of three figures standing at the main entrance, looking tense. He immediately recognized Albus and McGonagall, whom he didn’t dare call Minerva yet – he hadn’t even called her that when he’d been in the Order… and who was –

Was that –

It was…

_Snape?_

Remus was so taken aback that he actually stopped short, looking up at the three figures in unabashed shock. He hadn’t seen him in nearly… fifteen years, had it been? Surely not since their Hogwarts days. Lily had been convinced he’d become a Death Eater, though they never saw him, and his name had never been revealed when the trials had begun, months after Voldemort had been defeated. Remus had never seen him during battles, but then again, all Death Eaters wore masks, and even then, he was quite sure Albus would never let Snape around _children_ if he wasn’t sure their well being, physically _and_ mentally, would be preserved.

He’d also been a nasty little thing, even when they’d been children. Remus had never quite been able to understand how Lily could stand him, how Snape had won the title of her best and dearest friend. He’d always been an oddball up to his eyes in dark magic. It had driven James mad.

The idea of Snape being around _children_ in general was disturbing enough. The idea of Snape being around _James’_ children was… unnerving.

“Where _are_ they?” Snape snarled. Remus had forgotten had rude he could be, even if unprovoked. He could only imagine how thrilled Snape was to see him. Probably as much as Remus himself was.

Remus could do little more than blink uncomprehendingly, _“Severus?”_

It was Snape’s turn to look surprised, though it was quickly replaced with smugness.

“You didn’t tell him you employed me as well?” He looked at the Headmaster.

“I thought it a welcoming surprise.” Albus said, and Remus nearly burst out laughing.

“Surprise indeed.” He smiled politely, “How are you, Severus?”

He looked… disgusted, and a bit disappointed, like he’d hoped for some scathing insult in response so he’d have an excuse to curse him. Remus supposed it was better than his usual response, which was _automatically_ utilizing dark magic, like they had in school. But they couldn’t do that here – now. No, now _they_ were the teachers, the adults –

How quickly the simplicity and haven childhood had held had crumbled to dust.

They were all still standing above him, on the steps, with Remus looking up at them. It felt like he was a child, looking up to his elders and awaiting his punishment.

“They were fine once I sent the Dementors away.” Remus answered Snape’s question from earlier.

“And you didn’t think to _bring them?”_ Snape snapped.

“Severus, I’m sure Remus made sure Harry and Ariel were just fine.” Dumbledore put a restraining – at least, it _looked_ like a restraining – hand on his arm.

“Why were there Dementors on the damn train?” He demanded.

“They were searching it for Sirius Black.” Remus said calmly.

Something flashed in Snape’s eyes – hatred so strong, so great that Remus was reminded of just how frightening he could turn when he was angry. James could be just as bad, though it had never been directed at Remus. It was _always_ at Snape, and it was never pleasant. Their rows had been entertaining to most, as long as James was there, but for one to approach Snape alone was… unadvisable – borderline suicidal.

“Will you wait for them, Minerva?” Albus asked McGonagall, who was watching the exchange with wary eyes. When she nodded, and Dumbledore motioned for Remus to come forward, “Come, Remus –  Severus, I’m sure you’ll want to –”

“My office.” Snape looked at McGonagall, “Bring them there.”

Remus finally let some of his pleasantries fall. He looked at Snape, raising an eyebrow. Why the hell did _he_ want to see them? Well, perhaps Harry was a bit more justifiable, since he was in Slytherin – did that make Snape a Head of House? Good grief, that sounded strange…

“If I may,” Remus said instead, pausing as Dumbledore entered the castle, “I’d like to go with Severus and make sure Ariel and Harry are alright.”

“I’m sure Severus would enjoy the company.” Albus said, smiling with that comforting twinkle in his eyes, “I’ll see you both at the Feast, then.”

Snape, who seemed to loathe being talked about as if he wasn’t there as much as he enjoyed Remus, looked more likely to put himself under the Cruciatus than walk with Remus down to the dungeons.

“After you.” Remus gestured onward, flashing him a smile he knew would annoy him.

Snape’s lip curled, and Remus could practically feel the resentment leaking from every surface of his face. He flicked his cloak, which was far too large for his thin frame, and stalked forward, throwing Albus a terrible look as he passed. Remus followed.

They were silent as they descended into the dungeons. Remus almost stopped, for he’d never been down here, unless, of course, it had been for Potions. It seemed strange that his first minutes back at Hogwarts after all these years were being spent making sure Severus Snape didn’t disembowel James’ kids.

“Albus said something about you, assuming you are the potion’s master.” He began, trying to lighten the mood.

He waited, expecting for Snape to nod or agree or do _something_ to show he’d heard him. His robes snapped as the air billowed behind him, giving Remus his answer. He didn’t know why he bothered, honestly.

Snape also looked ridiculous in those robes, but Remus wasn’t going to hint at that today.

“He said that you’d be brewing Wolfsbane for me.”

“Yes.” _Do drop fucking dead,_ Snape’s voice finished.

“I have some questions, if you wouldn’t mind, while we're waiting –”

“Actually, I do.” He said snidely, throwing open the door to his office.

“We can discuss it later, then, I suppose.” Remus said mildly, following him inside.

“I have questions of my own for you.” Snape said in a smooth voice, and Remus automatically tensed. He stopped just short of the doorway, watching as Snape leaned against the front of his desk.

“Oh?” Remus tried to say without letting any of his growing irritation leak into his voice.

“Where is Sirius Black?” Snape asked, voice so deep that he didn’t hear a bottom.

His hands cracked as they balled at his sides.

The door opened before Remus could respond, and then, Ariel and Harry were standing in the doorway, clutching each other’s hands. Remus moved to greet them, but then something black moved out of the corner of his eye.

Snape swooped forward

and knelt down in front of Ariel and Harry,

and _took the girl’s face in his hands._

Remus nearly fell over.

“What happened?” Snape was asking her. Remus was trying very hard not to stare, because the girl was leaning into him, like they were about to embrace, but that couldn’t be, because Severus Snape was about as approachable as a Blast-Ended Skrewt.

“Mr… er, Professor Lupin said they were Dementors.” Ariel squirmed a bit, “I don’t really know what happened… I was fine…”

“He gave us chocolate.” Harry said, “It helped, a lot.”

Snape’s face hardened even more, if that was even possible. If Remus wasn’t seeing this for himself, he never would have believed it.

“Dad, we’re fine.” Ariel sighed, looking like she wanted to make a run for the door. Remus didn’t blame her.

_Dad?_

He was stupefied. Well, it explained her distant behavior on the train. Snape must have told her…

_… ah._

Yes. Now it made sense.

He hadn’t been expecting this.

 “Can we just go to the Feast?” Harry asked him in a softer voice.

“You were attacked by Dementors,” Snape’s tone would have been condescending had it not held so much worry, “and you want to go waltzing about the castle.”

“He only mentioned the Great Hall.” Ariel rolled her eyes, “Last I checked, there was no waltzing mentioned.”

Snape growled. Remus felt like they were acting, that this must be some kind of prank, because Severus Snape did not act concerned about anyone or anything. He’d never even seen him act that way around _Lily,_ but then again, seeing them together without one of them throwing Hexes at James was a rare occurrence.

“We’re okay, really.” Ariel reassured him, “We’re just hungry.”

Snape was looking at the girl like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time. The sharpness in his face –

Ariel had the same look, the same –

No… he had to be wrong… no –

_You have been blessed with a wilder mind, Remus_

Remus stood there as Snape straightened up. He couldn’t hear whatever the hell he was saying. He must have told them yes, because they were heading out the door a second later, and Severus was giving him a look that said _get the fuck out of my office, werewolf._

Suspicions mounting, Remus followed, with a fire burning in his heart that yearned to know the truth he hadn’t realized he’d been doubting.

That was, after all, what fifteen years after Hogwarts had brought with it, apparently.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Alright, if you follow me on tumblr – lupinlaughed wow shameless promoting ANYWAY (I have a whole tag for Red Sorrow on my page I swear it’s relevant) – you know Remus is my heart and soul, so this chapter is probably my favorite one, because it’s his intro. I hope you like it, so enjoy, friends! I may upload another chapter tonight, depending how far I get on packing to go back to music major madness.
> 
> Please review! Xx


	56. It's About Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Alright – because we are almost caught up, I thought I’d put this note here:
> 
> PoA is going to be structured into two parts, if you will. The first part is going to be tense, and a lil angsty, but it’s nothing like CoS. You’ll see what I mean, but this first part moves really quickly in terms of plot. Things are going to be bumpy, initially, but once it settles down, it’s going to be pretty tame for the rest of the book. I know that was a concern last time, but trust me, I got this mapped out.
> 
> There are ten/eleven chapters until we’re back (I think). Almost there!!

“He gave you chocolate.” Ron was pointing out, “He can’t be _that_ bad.”

Harry sneaked a glance at his sister, who was stabbing away at her plate, not even bothering to look up to acknowledge the conversation. He sighed and glanced up at the High Table, finding that Severus was regarding his own dinner similarly. Lupin seemed to be trying to make conversation, but wasn’t getting far, because Severus was treating his carrots like they’d been cooked by Lockhart.

Harry and Damon were at the Gryffindor table, as usual, gaining their customary strange glances from the new first years. Dumbledore’s welcoming speech had mainly been about Black and the Dementors – Harry and Ariel had felt everyone’s eyes on them, though he couldn’t figure out if it was because they’d heard they’d fainted on the train, or because Sirius Black had been a Death Eater. Or both.

“He also saved you from the Dementors.” Damon pointed out, nudging him.

Harry had heard the woman screaming too, but he hadn’t heard the man sobbing. Something about the way Ariel looked when she talked about it told him that the man was bothering her more than the woman. He hadn’t the slightest clue as to why, but then again, Harry didn’t understand what they’d heard, and why no one else had, either. It seemed to have disturbed Ariel that she’d heard more than he had.

He’d hated it – hated waking up and finding everyone staring down at him like he’d grown a second head. He hated that his sister had felt the same thing, because if something happened to her too, there was a pretty good chance that something abnormal was going on. Harry couldn’t stand feeling helpless and weak – powerless against something that hadn’t anywhere _near_ the same effect it had on him and his sister.

“Can we move on from this?” Hermione said in a small voice. She’d been shaking like a leaf when Harry had finally come around – Ron had whispered to him later that he’d given her quite a fright.

“Please.” Harry sighed, “At this point, History of Magic is beginning to sound more appealing.”

At the mention of school, Hermione immediately perked up. Ariel rolled her eyes and sunk her fork deeper into a stalk of broccoli. Harry’s eyes fell to the Slytherin table behind her, and found that Malfoy was staring at them. He was about to narrow his eyes and make a comment to his friends, but Malfoy gave a slight tilt of his head, and looked away.

_What the –_

“I’m rather disappointed neither of you signed up for Runes and Arithmancy.” Hermione began to spread butter on a roll, raising her eyebrows at both Harry and Ron, “They’re really fascinating subjects.”

“But electives are supposed to be _fun,_ Hermione.” Ron said, sounding offended.

“They’re _supposed_ to make you more well rounded! I’m not saying Magical Creatures isn’t important, _I’m_ taking that too –”

“Wait,” Damon frowned, “you’re taking _three?_ How?”

“I’m actually taking all four.”

Ariel gave her A Look, “Hermione, you _can’t_ be talking _every_ elective. Divination is at the same time as Runes.”

“Professor McGonagall helped me find a way.” Hermione said loftily.

Harry, Ron and Damon all glanced at each other. The day the Ariel-Hermione rivalry ended was the day that Draco started being polite to Harry. Or Severus gave out sweets.

“Okay.” She said in a disbelieving tone, rolling her eyes, “Let me know how that works out for you.”

“I will.” Hermione snapped back.

 _“Anyway,”_ Harry said quickly, “how was your summer, Damon?”

He snorted into his pumpkin juice, “Just peachy, thanks.”

“And Lucius?” Ariel asked, finally drawing her full attention away from her pulverized dinner.

Damon flinched, like he hadn’t been expecting that. He set down the glass, “He was in Austria for the majority of it. He and Aunt Cissy had this terrible row when we came back from school. I guess the idea of setting a basilisk lose in the same building where your son and nephew sleep wasn’t as appealing to her as it was to him.”

“Well, she sounds better than your uncle.” Ariel offered.

“Anyone’s better than Lucius.” Damon muttered, and then looked to Harry, “How was _your_ summer?”

He shrugged, “It was alright. I had to room with some strange redhead that snored like a lawnmower.”

Ariel chucked a baked potato at him – from the corner of his eyes, Harry saw Severus’ glare nearly split said potato in half.

“What’s a lawnmower?” Damon asked, chuckling.

“Shut it, the both of you.” Ariel said, though there was a smirk playing on her lips.

“How did you and Snape get on?” Ron asked, with a shudder, “Flooing you was like rolling dice.”

“We’re on a first name basis, actually.” Harry said lightly, grinning. His heart, for some reason, warmed at his words.

Ron snorted, “Yeah, right.”

* * *

After the Feast ended, Ariel had taken one look at the girls in her year crouched together and decided that spending the night in the dungeons was probably the safest bet. Not to mention that if Hermione asked her one more question about what to expect from Runes and Arithmancy, Ariel was going to light her hair on fire. That _definitely_ wasn’t the way she wanted to start off this year, _especially_ after all the Chamber business last term. She and Harry had already made agreement to stay out of trouble. They weren’t going to go looking for it, and if it found them…

Well, they’d cross that bridge when they got to it.

She walked Harry and Damon down to the Slytherin dormitories, something inside of her itching to go with them. Ariel loved Gryffindor with every fiber of her being, but some days, she wondered if she should have just let the stupid Hat put her in Slytherin, like it had wanted to. It certainly would have made her dad happy, and she’d have been with Harry and Damon…

When she opened up the door to her father’s rooms, she found that he wasn’t in his usual spot behind his desk.

“Dad?” Ariel called into the seemingly empty quarters. “Are you here?”

His head appeared in the doorway of his private potions stores. His face was tight – stone cold, but it didn’t completely reach his eyes. They seemed to soften when they saw her.

“I don’t know why I expect you to stay in Gryffindor Tower every year.” Her father sighed, “Your arrival was exactly the time I anticipated you.”

“I’m too tired to deal with the girls in my year.” Ariel muttered, “Sally and Katie would be up past midnight talking about wand curling technique for their hair. Not to mention that Hermione would have made me tell her what to expect for all the Elective classes she’s taking this year.”

“Are you feeling unwell?” He frowned.

“Exhausted.” She said, the hollowness in her bones and inside her heart weighing down on her.

Severus exited the storeroom and billowed over to her, pressing his hand against her forehead. Ariel hadn’t realized just how cold she was until she felt his body heat warm her own. She leaned into him, burying her face against his robes. Comfort was all she sought – Ariel could still hear the cries in her ears…

“What is it?” Her father murmured against her hair, his arms wrapping around her.

“Someone was screaming on the train, when the Dementors came.” Ariel said into his chest, “I heard a woman… and then there was a man crying like he was in pain…”

Severus went very still. His grip tightened, and Ariel welcomed it. He’d been so unapproachable the past month with all the Sirius Black business that his embrace felt like they hadn't seen each other in years.

“There was something familiar about it.” She whispered, “I don’t know what… I can’t explain it. I hated feeling so helpless...”

His hold around her had become very uncomfortable. It was as if he were purposefully trying to squeeze all the air from her lungs, which in her opinion, wasn’t much better than the invisible water that had filled them when the Dementor had come into her and Damon’s compartment.

“Dementors are the embodiment of the worst of humankind.” Her father told the top of her head, “For one to faint has no bearing on a person’s inner strength. You and your brother are far from weak.”

“Speaking of the worst of us,” Ariel looked up at him, “am I allowed to ask why you hate Professor Lupin _now?_ We met him on the train, and he helped us. He seemed awfully nice…”

He pulled away from her, his hand gripping her shoulder as he gazed down at her. His eyes reminded her of a lighthouse – holding the answer far off in the distance, where he kept everything, even her, sometimes.

“I hate everyone.” Her father said, turning away in the same breath. His robes made an audible _swoosh_ sound.

 _“Dad,”_ Ariel said in a loud voice, following him as he stalked into the kitchen, “don't do that.”

Severus didn’t answer. Instead, he rapped the counter, and something steaming in a cup appeared. He picked it up swiftly and held it out to her.

“Hot chocolate?” She could smell it, scrunching her nose as she received it.

“You still look pale.” His eyes flickered towards the door, “Your brother didn’t look any better.”

Ariel sighed and sat herself down at the kitchen table, “Harry’s alright – he would have come with me if he wasn’t.”

Severus took the seat next to her, leaning his chin against his propped up elbow, unkempt eyebrows furrowed together in thought. He made a disagreeing noise.

“Dad,” Ariel said again quietly, “can you _please_ tell me about Lupin. I don’t even know his first _name,_ for Merlin’s sake.”

His face was suddenly gone, hidden by a curtain of inky black hair. She sighed, frustrated, and set the cup down with more force than necessary. The chocolate wasn’t helping anyway – her skin still prickled and chest empty.

“He was friends with Potter.” Her father finally said, like it was a confession.

“And Mum?” Ariel leaned towards him.

“Yes.” Now it sounded like he was being tortured for information.

“And let me guess,” Ariel sighed, “as my _real_ father, you wouldn't have made the same decision.”

“It was your mother’s.” His black eyes flashed, “And Potter’s. I dislike it… but I won’t contradict your mother’s judgement. I’m sure at the _time…_ she thought it was a… _beneficial…_ appointment.”

It was hard to ignore how much force was put into making those words pass through his lips. He sounded like someone who was trying to saw off one their own limbs.

Ariel didn’t know what it was, but there was something in Lupin’s face that reflected in pictures of Lily. It was a kindness – a sad happiness that she felt every time she looked in the mirror. He could see someone like him, even if they’re conversation had been incredibly brief, being friends with her mum.

It made Ariel feel guilty, because she had never been able to picture Severus friends with her.

“I think that it was just Mum.” She said quietly.

He tensed, and a hand began to massage his temple, “And how do you know that?”

“I don’t know… I wasn’t James’… Her eyes fell to the floor. “I just have a feeling.”

“And do you feel better for it?” Severus’ tone was sharp, like cracks in a frozen pond.

“Yes and no.” She looked back up, “I don’t _want_ to hate him like you do. If he was Mum’s friend –”

“He was _Potter’s_ friend.”

“Are you going to make this about James again?” Ariel finally snapped, “Because if you are, then I’m going to go absolutely mad, which would be rather anticlimactic, seeing as last year I was possessed by a talking diary.”

“Watch your mouth!” Her father grabbed her chin, his lips pressed into a tight line.

She tore away and glared, “I deserve to know! If you won’t tell me –”

“Then what?” He sneered, “You’ll go to _him?”_

Ariel lifted her chin defiantly, “Maybe I will.”

His eyes were blazing, and they made her cringe away. Out of the corner of her eye, Ariel saw his fists ball underneath the table. She could tell he was really about to let her have it – he’d been holding back all summer for her sake. Ariel could tell he was afraid to get angry with her after the Riddle incident, but with a month of no outlets, of boiling rage and paranoia, the prospect of Ariel “jeopardizing her safety” was bound to send her father over the edge.

“I do not trust him,” Her father finally said to her surprise, his voice so brittle that Ariel was quite sure it would split in two, “in regards to Black.”

She frowned, “Why? Did he know him?”

“That is all I am telling you at the moment.” Her father stood, and disappeared into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

Ariel sighed, and the man inside her head wept.

It seemed she’d never be free of voices.

* * *

Harry had thought a lot about what Snape had said about being a Slytherin since their talk in the basement, and decided that, maybe, just this once, Snape had meant well by it. That didn’t happen often, so Harry decided to take his advice to heart to try and talk to his Housemates without arguing. He hadn’t told Ron, for fear he’d disprove, or Hermione, because she’d bring it up in front of everyone, and that was the _last_ thing Harry wanted.

There was far too much foot traffic in the common room tonight, but there always was the first few days. First years were bewildered – Harry had noticed one in particular that looked like she was going to burst into tears any minute. The older students seemed to be doing their best to reassure them, but Harry felt… oddly bad about it, like _he_ should be doing something. Slytherin was very particular about that kind of stuff though – there was a hierarchy to it. Harry had tried explaining it to Ariel over the summer, and she’d been baffled. It was one of those things you couldn’t explain – you just kind of understand that it was there and how it worked without asking.

Instead, Harry took a deep breath and marched forward and up to his dorm. He prayed Malfoy wasn’t there – he didn’t have any desire to try and entertain _that_ part of what Snape had said. Harry wished he’d been more specific about that. Lucius had tried to kill his sister and Malfoy had laughed at the idea – what screamed _friendship_ about that?

Thankfully, and to Harry’s immense relief, only Zabini and Nott were in the dorm, and it seemed that they were bickering about something. He’d never heard them argue before. It was a pandemic that seemed to spread around the Slytherin dorms from time to time.

“I’m _telling_ you, Theo – I’m not making it up!” Zabini was insisting. He looked incredibly insulted – the same way Hermione had every time Ron said something rude about Crookshanks.

 _“Please.”_ Nott snorted. “You’re being overdramatic, and quite honestly, it’s nauseating.”

“Look, Potter had something happen to him!” Zabini gestured to him, and Harry shut his mouth, suddenly on guard.

Nott rolled his eyes, looking Harry up and down. He was a few inches taller than him, with sandy-blonde hair and brown eyes. Zabini was shorter, about the same height as Harry, with dark hair and eyes.

“Oh, c’mon, you heard what he did last year!” Zabini looked annoyed now. “We all did – well, mostly everyone.”

Harry didn’t really care much for this – them speaking as though he wasn’t there. He frowned. “What are you talking about? If you’ve got something to ask me, then ask it.”

“We heard you fainted on the train.” Nott was studying him intently, a skeptical look in his eyes. “Is that true?”

Harry swallowed roughly and crossed his arms. “Yeah, it is. What about it?”

“What about your sister? We heard her too.”

 _“Yes.”_ He ground out.

“Told you I’m not mad.” Zabini muttered. “It could’ve –”

“Oh, stuff it. You’re all obsessed with this Azkaban business. Don’t think I didn’t hear you and Draco discussing it at dinner!”

“Discussing _what?”_ Harry broke in, getting annoyed. Were they purposefully acting like he wasn’t there?

Zabini and Nott both looked at him, and then exchanged a look themselves. Harry was about to give up and find Damon – vent to him about how Snape didn’t know what the bloody hell he was talking about, when Zabini sighed.

“We kept the compartment door open – it got stuck because Pansy kept coming in and out.” He grimaced. “So when the Dementors boarded the train, there wasn’t anything between us and them. I got really dizzy, like I was going to faint. When that weird light lit up the hallway, I felt better afterwards, but Theo here thinks I was faking it.”

Harry blinked back, stunned. “You… really?”

“Yeah,” Nott answered for Zabini. “so? Did you feel something too, before the Dementor scared you?”

“I didn't _scare_ me!” Harry shot back. “I… felt the same way. It just didn't back off in time, alright? Professor Lupin —”

“Professor Lupin?” Nott frowned. “What, the new Defense guy?”

“Yes — he gave me chocolate. It made me feel better.”

Zabini snorted. “Go figure.”

“You mentioned Azkaban.” Harry raised his chin, and tried to look confident instead of terrible awkward. “What about it?”

“Well,” Zabini hesitated. “You know about the whole Sirius Black business, don't you?”

Harry nodded, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Well… there's some in Slytherin… they wonder if maybe… if Black could get out… then maybe their parents could, too.”

He immediately wished he hadn't asked. Nott was watching him with a strangely guarded glare… like he was expecting Harry to automatically object. He didn't know what it was like to have parents, so he couldn't imagine what it was like to _have_ them, but for them to be kept away from you. If Harry’s parents were being held away somewhere, he’d have done whatever he had to —

“Maybe.” Harry inclined his head slightly, and to his surprise, they returned the gesture, though they looked… curious about it. He could’ve sworn their eyes had begun to glitter in the firelight.

There were footsteps outside the door, then, and when Harry turned, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were all piling through the door. Malfoy stopped short when he saw Harry standing in the middle of the room, which caused Crabbe to smash into Goyle, and Goyle into Malfoy. They went flying to the ground, and Zabini quickly spun around – Harry briefly caught a smile stretching across his face.

When Malfoy looked up and saw Harry, something he didn’t know how to identify in his eyes. – it was like the look on someone’s face when they missed a step on the stairs.

“Potter.” Malfoy said curtly, standing and brushing himself off.

There was nothing after that – no jeering, or making fun of him for fainting because of the Dementors. There was even a _sneer._ Malfoy simply threw open his trunk, dug threw it, and grabbed a bag, no bigger than the size of his hand.

Harry blinked, stunned. “Um.”

“Eloquent as always.” Malfoy rolled his eyes, and tossed the bag to Goyle. “Hold onto this – we’re going to need it.”

Harry didn’t respond, but instead, looked around for Damon. Had he put him up to this to mess with him? No – Damon wouldn’t do that – the Malfoy cousins didn’t get on that way.

Neither did he and Harry.

They left before Harry could shoot something clever back. When he looked back to Zabini and Nott, they were sitting on Nott’s bed, looking amused.

“I wonder what that was about.” said Zabini.

“Maybe he’s giving them the marbles they’ve lost.” Nott tapped his temple.

Zabini snorted. He reached under his pillow, revealing a deck of cards. “Loser has to ask him – I doubt he’ll tell, but that’s part of the fun, I guess. Want to join, Potter?”

Harry blinked – he’d never been invited to do anything with the Slytherins before. After he’d punched out Malfoy last year, they’d been guarded around him… or maybe it had been because the school thought he was the Heir, and no one in Slytherin was close enough to Harry to confirm that he wasn’t.

_Plant a seed –_

Harry shrugged. “Why not?”

* * *

Remus hadn’t bothered to unpack. He’d tried, but when his plant had ended up where his toothbrush should have been, he’d realized that his _head_ wasn’t where it should be, and decided that the bed was probably the safest place for him before he hurt himself unintentionally.

He was… was shaken the correct word? Remus was beyond confused – bewildered.

Snape had… _adopted_ Ariel. Albus had mentioned it briefly over dinner, in a low voice only meant for him. Snape had glared at them the whole time, like he could hear them, but that was impossible over the din in the Great Hall.

… No, repeating it didn’t make any more sense. It hadn’t when he’d asked Albus about it, and it certainly hadn’t when he saw Snape hold the girl’s face in his hands like he was cradling something precious.

Remus struggled to wrap his already limited mind around the truth. Snape had _loathed_ James – had he taken Harry too? No – he’d heard word that he’d been with Muggle relatives, though it seemed like they were on good terms as well. Severus had put a protective hand on his shoulder… Remus had watched his every move as they’d walked back up to the Great Hall… the way a _parent_ would have done. The way _Remus_ should have.

_(He was a coward)_

James’ children… calling Snape _dad…_ didn’t… make…

which meant…

… that he must have done it for Lily.

Remus laid there and let his mind do the wandering, he, a simple passenger for the time being. It flashed from scene to scene from earlier that same evening – of the wary glint in Ariel’s eyes, to the kind, lost look in Harry’s. There was James and Lily in their children… and someone else.

The suspicions Remus battled against couldn’t _possibly_ be what his mind had concluded. It was… the thought…

It felt like a betrayal to Lily.

He remembered the day after their fifth year OWL’s.

Dorcas Meadows had come down to the common room in a frantic state because Lily apparently hadn’t moved from the stone floor of their bathroom since she’d returned from the Snape-pantsing incident. Marlene McKinnon had stayed with her while Dorcas went to go and get McGonagall.

James had been ready to charge into the girl’s dormitories to go and make sure she was alright, but Remus had quickly talked him down from it and told him that Lily probably didn’t want to see him right now. All James had talked about was how _he_ would _never_ call anyone a Mudblood, about how stupid _Snivellus_ had deserved it, and he’d _known_ he’d deserved it, because Snape had done what James had said he was – a wannabe Death Eater. Sirius, as always, seconded his every statement, while Remus and Peter had shared looks that displayed their annoyance at the never-ending James-Snape rivalry.

He remembered talking to Lily days after.

Remus had found her near the Astronomy Tower – the sounds of someone crying had drawn him there in the first place.

“I’m not crying.” She’d snapped at him, turning her head away. He’d never seen her in such a state. Lily had always been one to put on a brave face. She was never weak, or at least, she’d never been in front of James, who Remus had always been with.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He’d asked quietly, not wanting to be rude, but not wanting to just walk away either.

“Do you know what it’s like to hear your best friend say you’re worthless?” Lily had whispered, shaking her head in what appeared to be disbelief, “I… I knew Sev was getting involved with… with _them,_ but I never thought he’d call me…” She had laughed, a cold sound that had fallen against Remus’ ears like a waterfall, “I was stupid to think I’d somehow _I’d_ be the exception.”

“You’re not worthless, Lily.” Remus had sat down beside her.

“We live in a world where I am, Remus.” Lily had said, tears dripping from the tip of her nose and down to the floor.

“If you’re talking about all the stuff going on with You-Know-Who…”

“My sister thinks I’m a freak.” She’d said, “And half the wizarding world doesn’t think I belong here. And now, the one person I thought I could rely on… he thinks it, too. Sev _knew…_ he was my…”

She’d come across as someone that’d had their heart broken. Her and Snape had never been a… _thing –_ Lily had told James that when his head had swelled down. It had been James’ greatest fear, though Remus had never been able to tell if it was simply because of his jealousy, or because he was genuinely afraid for Lily’s wellbeing around Snape.

She never talked to Snape after that, or at least, from what Remus knew. As time went by and Lily became closer and closer with Remus and his mates, had begun dating James, it occurred to him that _he_ had somehow assumed the role of Lily’s closest friend. He’d come to trust her as much as he’d trust James and Peter… Sirius. It had turned out that she’d had a terrible temper – just like he did, when he was _really_ pushed to the brink. There was something oddly comforting in knowing that Lily Evans, Head Girl and quite possibly the most popular girl in school, could swear like a sailor and so loudly that her voice would get hoarse.

But one thing Lily never did with Remus was talk about Snape. She never mentioned him, though she never tried to hide the pained glimmer in her green eyes, her son’s eyes, that appeared if someone mentioned him. From what Remus had guessed, they hadn’t any contact since they’d graduated Hogwarts – James had _sworn_ he’d seen a flash of him during a battle one day – the same battle that Bellatrix Lestrange had nearly killed Lily. It hadn’t been confirmed, but Remus was sure that Albus… he’d of never…

Snape wouldn’t have Lily’s baby if Albus questioned his loyalties.

But… the idea brewing… eating away at the happy faces preserved in his memories… it would have made _sense._ Lily had been so hesitant to marry James straight out of school – how many times had they met to speak of it? And then the next thing Remus knew, James and her were sitting him down… she hadn’t even _voiced_ changing her mind to him… and then they were having a _baby –_

_“A fucking BABY, James?” Sirius had looked dazed, “A real life fucking baby?”_

And then when the baby _had_ been born… not looking a thing like James. Remus was suddenly reminded when Ariel had caught on to all the adults calling James by his first name, babbling _James James James!_ instead of _daddy…_ how James’ eyes had flashed in hurt, just for a fraction of a second before he’d scooped her up –

 _“You have your father’s eyes.”_ Remus had heard Lily croon to Ariel the day she was born.

But that was a lie. She hadn’t James’ eyes –

Coal black, glinting like marble and glittering, had always been…

Ariel’s eyes matched _Snape’s._

Lily had cried like she’d had a broken heart.

Severus had taken the girl in and looked at her like she was –

Remus jolted upright and ran a shaky hand through his hair. If it was true – _if if if_ – it wouldn’t have any bearing on him. Ariel was still Lily’s daughter, and despite the fact that he’d been the Worst Godfather in History, he was going to make sure that she and Harry were kept safe.

From Sirius Black, Harry’s godfather. That poor boy…

He fell back against the pillows, and remembered.

* * *

The next morning, Severus had awoken to find the girl already gone. He’d sighed, lingering in her doorway for longer than necessary and wondered what he was going to do about the werewolf. For Merlin’s sake, Severus had assumed Lupin had crawled into some hole and died there – that the remnants of anyone who still held James fucking Potter as a god had left this damn world.

And then there were the Dementors.

 _And_ Sirius Black.

_I heard a woman screaming_

Well, Severus could only guess who _that_ was. Surely the memory of your mother being murdered in front of you was enough to provoke such a response from someone – especially from a defenseless thirteen and fourteen-year-old.

_a man crying like he was in pain_

It couldn’t be… _that_ part… she _had_ to be have been mistaken.

“Is this seat taken?” the last voice Severus wanted to hear at the moment asked just as he sat down to eat breakfast in the Great Hall, or rather, keep an eye on Ariel and Harry.

He turned to find the werewolf standing behind him, his face practically radiating with kindness and politeness and any other emotion that Severus would never in a million years’ force into his own for the sake of being decent.

“Yes.” He told Lupin shortly.

“That’s funny,” Lupin said, sounding nowhere near amused, “the rest of the staff is accounted for. I believe I’m the last to arrive.”

“Ah, so the resident werewolf can count.” Severus said condescendingly, “A skill I’m _sure_ he will need in order to teach children Defensive Magic.”

He sighed, though it wasn’t an exasperated sound, to Severus’ disappointment. It sounded more like he was weary.

“So,” Lupin began as he sat, and Severus’ fork nearly ricocheted off the plate, “judging by your reaction to my recent employment, I assume you might not know about another title I’ve been given.”

Ah, Severus had been wondering when he’d bring _that_ particular issue up. He’d been surprised that Lupin’s head hadn’t exploded all of the dungeon wall last night when Ariel and Harry had come to see him. It had all been a fraction of a second, but Severus had seen the way the werewolf’s eyes had bulged at the sight, and he’d felt a twinge of satisfaction to know that James bloody Potter’s friends had no bearing in their lives the way he did. The wolf had soon composed himself into that infuriating mask of politeness – it made Severus want to Hex him – and he’d said nothing more on the matter. He’d been waiting for Lupin to approach the girl, or even the boy, but he hadn’t.

Yet.

“As far as I’m concerned,” Severus said through gritted teeth, “you have _neither.”_

Lupin went very quiet, pausing in the middle of piling some sausage onto his plate. His eyes seemed to be searching for something he’d lost.

“You’re not the only one who has concerns.” He said softly, but with enough force that Severus understand the meaning behind the words.

“Excuse me?” Severus asked in a dangerous voice.

“You’re a smart man, Severus.” Lupin sighed, “You know how this must… the way you and James…”

His heart thundered inside of his chest. Something cold slid down his spine.

“You question me,” He said, “when you did not step up to claim her yourself. Her _or_ the boy.”

“How long have you had her?”

“As long as you have been away.”

“The Ministry never would have let… someone like _me_ take them.” Lupin said, and there was something that sounded like misery in his hoarse voice, “You know that as well as I do, Severus.”

“Then don’t act like you have any business inquiring about her!” Severus growled, his eyes immediately going to his daughter. She was trying to mess up Harry’s hair as the boy dodged – Granger and Weasley were laughing –

“Is it because you don’t trust me, Severus,” Lupin said, raising his goblet to his lips, “or because you think you’re her father?”

He felt his hands spasm under the table.

“I believe those both fall under the same category.” Severus hissed.

“You asked me yesterday if I knew where Sirius Black was,” Lupin looked him directly in the eye, “and I’m telling you that I’d rather die than see anything happen to those kids.”

Severus glared right back, utilizing his Occlumency as well as skimming the surface of Lupin’s. He couldn’t get a gage on anything – a Halfbreed’s worked differently from a wizard’s – and Severus blinked, breaking the connection.

“So what do you want?” He snapped, “My _blessing?”_

“I’d like to get to know Ariel and Harry, yes.” The fucking werewolf said.

“And I’d like you to go to hell.” Severus replied.

“Severus,” Lupin rubbed at his face, “please. We have the same goal here –”

“No, I don’t think _we_ do.”

“We both want to see them safe.” Lupin said, “I _do_ have a right to see Ariel and Harry. I might have failed James and Lily –”

He felt his insides twisted together, like metal being shaped, like shrapnel shooting through them.

“– once, but I’m not going to let it happen again.”

Neither was Severus. He’d rather choke on his own bile then risk them getting hurt after what had transpired last term.

“A pity then,” Severus stood, “that you’ve decided to make your life unnecessarily unpleasant during your tentative stay here.”

* * *

After a morning of Runes with Damon, Ariel felt groggier than she had that morning. Her head felt like it was full of fog, and for some odd reason, she felt afraid that the mist hid Dementors. She hadn’t slept well – her dreams were riddled with the scabbed hand reaching for her, and a man and woman yelling in tandem, a bright green light –

“Divination is a disaster!” Harry was complaining. Hermione had her head buried in an Arithmancy textbook, mouthing equations like she was reciting the alphabet.

“I told you not to take it.” Ariel told him, giving him a knowing look as she bit into an apple.

“I’m horrid at math.” He grumbled back, “And Runes sounded boring.”

“Trelawney is nothing but a fraud.” She said, “Do you know how many times she told me I was going to die as a kid? Dad nearly killed _her.”_

“Wish he had.” Ron muttered, “She’s a nutter, she is.”

“Have you ever heard of the Grim?” Harry asked, biting his lip.

Ariel shook her head. “If it's Divination related, I can't say I have. If it's something bad, it's rubbish.”

“That’s what McGonagall said…”

“So then, what's the problem?”

“The _problem_ is that Sirius Black is out for our heads!” Harry snapped. “And I just got an omen of death!”

Ariel sent a quick glance to Hermione, hoping for once that she’d interject and agree with her, but she stayed silent, her mouth moving as fast as her eyes. Ariel wondered if she was trying to memorize the text.

“I’ll give her an omen of death.” She muttered. “I’ll have Dad spike her tea again.”

“Miss Potter?” A tired, but kind voice, called from behind them.

Ariel turned to find Lupin standing behind her, with something akin to a smile on his worn face. He looked worse than he had yesterday – she wondered if he’d slept at all, but what would be keeping him awake at night?

She quickly set a glance up at the High Table – her father was watching the scene with a glare that would have singed the ends of her hair had he been looking at her, but Severus was glaring straight at Lupin.

For a second, Ariel didn’t know how to respond, which was rather odd, seeing as all he’d said was her name.

 _“Hi,”_ She said, uncertainly, and a bit dumbly. She saw Damon roll his eyes at her tone from the corner of her eye and fought the urge to hit him.

“I’d hate to take you away from your friends,” Lupin smiled at Harry and Ron, who were behind her, “but I was wondering if we could have a quick word in my office, that is, if you don’t have class soon?  I only have a couple of minutes myself, but I’d like to speak to you, if that’s alright?”

She wondered why he kept asking the same thing using different words. He looked… nervous? And why was he asking just _her?_

“Uh,” Ariel felt her face turn red, _“sure._ Am I… in trouble?”

“Oh no, nothing like that.” Lupin shook his head.

Neither of them said anything. Ariel could feel the awkwardness of the situation growing exponentially. Lupin cleared his throat awkwardly, and gave her a tiny motion to follow.

She sent Harry a look – he didn’t see it – he was too busy staring at Lupin with narrowed green eyes.

Ariel quickly scrambled after Lupin, careful to keep behind him and not next to him. She didn’t think she could handle any small talk – her heart was pounding against her windpipe and she felt as if she were about to sick up the soup she’d just eaten.

A familiar sense of dread overcame her as she approached the Defense classroom, though it quickly dissipated. Lockhart wouldn’t be waiting for her with that sickening smile and false tales of grandeur _this_ year.

“I apologize for the mess.” Lupin gestured to the classroom as they entered, “I’ve only arrived last night, like you. I’m afraid I didn’t have much time to… er… _decorate._ I’m not sure I’ll be much of a comparison to the other Defense teachers in that regard…”

It was indeed a mess. Things were covered in cloth, and there were boxes scattered about. The room even seemed to need a good dusting.

“Well, the others were awful, so you don’t have _that_ much of a competition.” Ariel muttered to herself. She almost didn’t realize she’d said it aloud until she saw Lupin’s eyes dancing in amusement, though he still looking dreadfully tired.

“That bad, huh?” He chuckled, gesturing for her to take a seat in front of a large desk. Ariel couldn’t ever recall being in the Defense professor’s office — Merrythought had never summoned her, nor had Quirrell, and she’d avoided Lockhart like the sodding plague.

“Our last one had pictures of himself everywhere.” She told him, “And set monsters on us. _And_ turned my brother’s arm to mush.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Lupin said, something genuine in his voice that made Ariel think, _“he really meant that.”_

“Thanks.” Ariel mumbled, a cup and saucer filled with tea levitating itself over to her. She hadn’t even asked, but not wanting to be rude, she thanked Lupin and took a small sip. He was stirring his own with his finger before settling himself behind the desk.

More awkward silence and shifting of their bodies. Ariel felt like she was going to implode. Lupin looked like he was…

Well, she didn’t know why he was looking at her the way he was.

Lupin finally cleared his throat and leaned forward, “Ariel, I… I wanted to speak with you about something that I realize… might seem…” He was struggling to find the right word.

“You want to talk about how you’re my godfather.” Ariel set her tea down.

He looked… very taken off guard, or like she’d just spoken fluent Latin or something. It was the same way he had looked when she’d caught him staring at her and her father last night. She wondered if Lupin and Severus had spoken yet, and if Dumbledore had told him anything. That seemed like something one should probably tell another — _“hey, your god kid went to the man who hated your best mate!”_

“Did you not want to see me?” She asked, willingly her voice not to shake.

Lupin seemed to have recovered, because he was shaking his head, “No! No, Ariel, of course not —”

“Then why did I learn about you a month ago?” Ariel demanded, “Where have you _been?”_

He let out a deep breath, like a great gust of wind, and let his eyes close for a second. When they opened, they were full of sorrow, and made Ariel’s chest tighten, despite the fact that she suddenly felt angry at this man.

“I wasn’t in a position to take care of two small children when your parents died.” Lupin said softly, in the same voice that rang true in her ears for some strange reason, “I was… weak. I disappeared for a very long time.”

“And when you came back?” Ariel demanded, “You didn’t wonder? Because I only found out about you recently, and all I’ve thought about… was…” She broke off and swallowed the lump in her throat. Her _parents,_ her mum had known this man, and he hadn’t even bothered to see her or Harry…

_It felt like a betrayal somewhere deep down, somewhere where that part of her heart that loved her father yelled out in protest —_

“If I had the chance to redo everything,” Lupin’s voice lifted her eyes to him, “I would have taken you both in a heartbeat.”

Ariel swallowed at the sorrowful expression on his face — she didn’t know this man — her dad didn’t trust or like him. Why did she _care_ so much? Was it simply because this was someone who must have been close to her mum? Was that it? A doorway to her that Severus wouldn’t dare open unless he really had to?

“Why are you here now, then?” Ariel asked him, wringing her hands in her lap.

She heard Lupin shift in his chair, “I came because Professor Dumbledore needed someone to fill the Defense position he could trust — someone he knew wouldn’t help Sirius Black get to you or Harry. And…” He paused, and when Ariel finally looked up at him, his amber eyes were warm, “I wanted to meet you two. I’ve… I realized I’ve stayed away long enough, and if you’ll allow me, I’d like to get to know you both again.”

“Did you know who we were when the Dementors came?” She asked him instead of trying to even _attempt_ beginning to answer his question.

“I recognized your brother.” Lupin leaned forward, “And you, of course. You look just like your parents.”

“Everyone says that.”

“I can only imagine.” He gave her a tired smile, “You’re both more like them then you know.”

She wished that was true. Ariel wished she was as beautiful as her mum, as witty and brave as James, as witty and strong as her dad…

“I heard a woman screaming on the train.” Ariel told Lupin.

“You said.” He nodded.

“What do you think it was?”

“Dementors force us to relive our worst memories.” Lupin said kindly, “The more traumatic the memory, the worse the reaction. The mind can only handle so much.”

Ariel considered this, trying to think of a memory so terrible. She had loads of them — there was Quirrell-Mort, _Tom_ (months and months of him), her father’s memories and his pain, watching Harry at the Dursley’s her first year — but none of a woman screaming like _that,_ or of a man weeping like he’d lost the love of his life —

“Speaking of terrible memories,” Lupin paused, and then chuckled, “pardon my prying, but you and your brother wouldn’t happen to have an Invisibility Cloak in your possession, would you?”

Ariel blinked, “Harry got one his first Christmas here. I’m pretty sure Dumbledore was the one that gave it to him.”

“James used to leave that miserable thing around the house.” He was smiling now, and it reached his eyes, making them look brighter, younger, “There was one instance in particular when you must have snagged it and thrown it over Harry – we couldn’t find him for hours and you refused to tell us where you’d hid him. James had been a mess – Lily would have killed him if she’d come home to find that he’d lost the baby.”

Ariel couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, “Did he find him?”

“It was hard not to.” Lupin said, “He started hollering just as your mum walked in the door.”

“Sounds like dad.” She said quietly, imagining the scene all too easily. James’ eyes wide, sloppy grin on his face as he scooped Harry into his arms, Lily’s joyful smile as she caught sight of them…

 _“Lupin.”_ A voice cracked through the air, making it sizzle.

Ariel stifled a groan. Sure enough, when she turned, Severus was standing in the doorway, looking like he was the Angel of Death. She couldn’t tell if he was here to reap her, or Lupin.

“I believe I expressed myself to you this morning.” His voice could have curdled milk. It probably had done _something_ to the undrunk tea on the desk.

“And I believe _I_ expressed myself to you.” Lupin replied in a mild voice, like her father _wasn’t_ moments away from disemboweling him.

They were staring each other down now. Ariel’s head whipped back and forth between them, having absolutely no clue how to handle this situation. Why was Severus even _here?_

That was a stupid question — he was here because he was in Panic Mode, and when her dad thought her and Harry’s safety was in jeopardy, he was insufferable.

“Ariel,” Her father’s voice was like whiplash, “come – _now.”_

She quickly glanced at Lupin – who gave her a wink and nodded. Ariel gave him a smile, and hopped off the chair, making her way over to her father. As he led her away, Ariel found herself craning her neck to look back at Lupin, whose first name she still didn’t know, but was no longer faceless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Please review!


	57. Anagram

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Alright, friends, here’s the deal – I’m back at university, and from what I’ve edited/read through, I should be good to continue daily uploads throughout the week since I’ll have nothing but syllabus’ to go through. We should be (hopefully) be where we left off within a week!

Why was it that when Ariel got in trouble, somehow _Harry_ ended up right there with her?

Severus had grabbed him, and grabbed was _precisely_ the right word – he’d probably have bruises on his shoulders – as soon as Lupin had walked away with his sister. Harry had tried to ask what the hell _he’d_ done, but Severus had silenced him with that same glare he’d been giving Lupin up at the High Table. Ron and Hermione had looked bewildered — Damon had hidden his head behind a Transfiguration textbook.

Harry knew why without having to ask then — he was furious about Lupin, even though he had yet to give a single valid reason as to why — well, besides the fact that he’d been friends with his dad. It seemed about as rational as Severus’ reasoning for hating him his first year, and somewhere deep inside of him, Harry felt like Severus’ hatred towards Lupin might as well have been directed right back at himself. Did Severus hate _everyone_ associated with James Potter, or just those close to him?

That little, dark voice inside of his mind hissed that once again – Ariel had something Harry didn’t. Granted, having a godfather who had basically abandoned her was… sort of worse than having none at all, but Harry couldn’t help but wonder why _he_ didn’t have one. Unless, maybe, this Lupin fellow had been named both of theirs and there had been some kind of a mistake… no, that didn’t seem likely at all — Harry sounded pathetic for reaching so much. How was it that _Ariel_ had a godfather and _he_ didn’t? Severus had said he hadn’t known about Lupin — he’d spent the rest of the summer brooding over it — which meant the chances of him knowing if Harry actually had one or not were slim…

Harry had thought they were freaking _past this._

_(Had hoped)_

Severus had deposited him in his quarters, snarled _“stay,”_ at him, and left. Harry silently prayed that Lupin was a fast talker, because he’d have bet his Nimbus that Severus was going to get Ariel and haul her back here too.

Now, Harry could hear them coming down the corridor, even with the door closed.

“— you _deliberately_ disobeyed me!”

“He came up to me and asked me to come to his office! What was I _supposed_ to do?”

“You were _supposed_ to stay away from him, Ariel!

“I wasn’t going to be rude!”

“No — you did exactly what you wanted, as always —”

“You don’t have a real reason to hate him! Just because he was —”

The door swung open — Severus, a mess of black and anger, stalked inside, Ariel close behind him. Her mouth was set in a tight line, like she was biting back a scream.

“— James’ friend doesn’t give you a reason to keep us from him!” Ariel was finishing. She didn’t even seem to notice Harry standing there.

Harry heard himself sigh, and then, mentally braced himself. It wasn’t often he got caught in the crossfires of an Ariel-Severus fight, but when he did, it was best to duck and cover, when possible. _Both_ of their tempers were absolutely horrible to be the focus of.

“You think because he told you tales of your _father_ that my word must mean nothing?” Severus sneered down at her. They’d stopped in front of the fire, Severus towering over his sister liked a bull ready to charge.

Ariel went as red as her hair, “Overheard that bit, did you?”

“I heard everything.” Severus said flatly, and Harry sighed.

“Just because he was friends with James,” Ariel repeated again hotly, _“doesn’t_ mean he has some evil plan to turn Harry and I against you. Why the hell would he do that? If he was friends with mum and dad —”

Ah, it was _this_ argument. Harry suddenly had an overwhelming urge to flee the room — but some tiny part of him he long thought forgotten yearned to hear something about his dad, even if it was something bad.

“You don’t know enough to say such things.” Severus was flexing his hand like he was trying not to break something — or strike her, even. Harry tensed, but Ariel didn’t seem to realize just _how_ angry her dad was, because she was leaning _towards_ him with all usual Gryffindor-defiance she held in her posture when she was mad.

“Why is _your_ point of view the only one that counts?” Ariel demanded angrily, “You don’t think I have a good sense of judgment?”

 _“Last year,”_ Severus hissed, “your judgement nearly got you and your brother _killed.”_

Harry watched as his sister’s face crumpled, like burning paper in the fire. Severus seemed to realize the gravity of his words as soon as they’d left his mouth, his anger melting away, falling from him like droplets.

“Fine,” Ariel said coldly, “I’ll leave, and stop putting everyone in harm’s way. Maybe you’ll get lucky and Professor Lupin will off me before I do something else stupid.”

 _“Ariel…”_ Severus reached for her, but then curled his hand away, like he hadn’t meant to.

She stormed from the room, her robes whipping behind her thin frame, and threw open the door. Ariel left it open instead of her usual dramatic slam, and Harry started after her.

“Harry…”

He stopped in the doorway at the sound of his name and turned. Severus looked… _pained,_ and then, surprised, like he couldn’t believe he could have _possibly —_

“That was cruel.” was all Harry said, and then, he left Severus to stew in his words. He wanted to punch him in his hooked nose. _That_ wish hadn’t changed over the summer, when Severus was being an insufferable git, at least.

He hadn’t said a word about Tom or the Chamber all summer. Harry could tell, beneath the smiles and bright eyes, that Ariel still hadn’t completely put it behind her. She still did that thing were she watched the ink spread across the pages before writing— some nights, Harry had woken up to find her gone, presumably to find her father.

Ariel hadn’t gotten far by the time Harry caught up to her— she was sitting on the stairs leading up and out of the dungeons, glaring murderously at the wall. Harry was surprised she hadn’t taken off for her rock.

“He didn’t mean that.” Harry said, wanting to comfort her— not to put Severus back in her good graces.

“It’s true, anyway.” Ariel mumbled, “He’s just never said it before. Stupid Ariel, disturbing the peace.”

“You’re not disturbing the peace.” He rolled his eyes and plopped down beside her, “Sirius Black is.”

“I didn’t ask to have a godfather.” She fumed, “And I didn’t go _looking_ for him either! He acts like… I go trumping about, searching for trouble!”

“We don’t.” Harry said, leaning his head on her shoulder, “Trouble finds _us.”_

They’d figured out, in their months together, that sometimes, silence was the best way to communicate. Harry knew all too well that he hated when his sister hounded him when she thought something was bothering him. She was usually right — they had an intuition about each other that way, but his anger differed from hers. Ariel exploded everywhere — _liked_ having someone to rant to to blow off some steam. Harry… didn’t.

He kept silent until her unsteady breathing evened out, and then, he felt her hand grip his wrist.

“Thanks.” Ariel mumbled to him.

“Are you ready to go?” Harry asked her, “My legs have fallen asleep.”

She snorted, “Yeah, let’s go.”

Ariel helped him up — Harry had to lean on her for a moment before the feeling came back to his calves. They began heading up the stairs to the Great Hall. Harry sent one last look down to the base of the stairs leading to the dungeons, and wondered why Severus hadn’t come after him, or Ariel, for that matter.

“I asked Dad and Lupin about the Dementors.” Ariel said once the sunlight hit their faces, “One guess who gave me the best answer.”

“What _did_ Lupin want to talk to you about?” Harry asked her, curious.

She shrugged, the sadness not yet gone from her eyes, “Godfather stuff. I… wasn’t expecting for him… I don’t know.”

“What?” He nudged her.

“I like him.” Ariel admitted, “But… Dad doesn’t, because of _actual_ Dad. But I can’t get over the fact that… if he was such good friends, why would he just have _left us?_ Isn’t that the point of a godparent? To take over if the parents can’t?”

Harry had about as many answers as she did. He had more questions, if anything.

“What about the Dementors.” He asked quietly.

“He said Dementors make us relive our worst memories. The worse the memory, the worse the reaction. That’s why we fainted.”

“But _what_ memory?” He frowned, feeling the memory of the cold, the hollowness and helplessness seep deep inside his bones, _hated it._

“I don’t know.” Ariel told him, “I… it must be the _same_ one… since we heard the same thing.”

“I didn’t hear the man crying.” He pointed out.

“But we heard the woman.” She sighed, “Maybe I was unconscious longer than you. Lupin _was_ in your compartment, after all. It took him longer to get to me once Damon started yelling.”

“Library, then?” He quirked an eyebrow, channeling his inner Hermione.

Ariel rolled her eyes, like she’d read his mind, “As long as the bookworm isn’t around.”

They decided to split for a couple of minutes — Harry went to the Great Hall to grab food, and Ariel went to the library to begin searching through the card catalogue. When he returned with sandwiches, Ariel already had five thick textbooks laid out, and she was combing through the first one entitled _Soul Searching: A Wizard’s Guide to Dementors._ Harry grabbed one dramatically named, _Those Clad in Black._

He suddenly realized that they might be a bit in over their heads — he felt like he was reading Aristotle within the first three pages. He could hardly get his mind to focus, for the entire thing seemed to be written in one giant metaphor. Harry made a mental note to show the book to Severus, when he apologized to his sister, and ask what the author meant. It was as though he was trying to describe the nature of Dementor, but it was only confusing Harry instead of clarifying.

Ariel, on the other hand, seemed to be having more luck. 

" _Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them…_ yeah, yeah, yeah.” Ariel muttered, flipping through another couple of pages, “They’re dark and twisty and terrible, we get it. Sounds like Draco, if you ask me.”

“Keep going.” Harry urged, “See if it says anything about memories. My book is useless.”

 _“Get too near a Dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you.”_ She read, _“If it can, the Dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself... soulless and evil. You will be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life._ "

“Charming.” Harry sighed, “You think Hagrid keeps any as pets?”

“I hope not.” Ariel shuddered, “I’d take fifty dragons over a Dementor any day.”

“Wait — here’s something!” Harry grabbed the book and propped the it up, sneezing at all of the dust that formed a small cloud above the pages, _“Dementors sense and feed on the positive emotions of both wizards and Muggles alike in order to survive, forcing their victims to relive their very worst memories over and over again.”_

“That’s what Lupin said!” Ariel said excitedly, leaning over him to look.

“So then, whoever we heard screaming —”

“Well, how far back can they make you remember?” Ariel frowned.

“I don’t think there _is_ a limit.” said Harry.

He racked his brain for a memory of someone screaming like they were dying — there had been when Quirrell had put Ariel under that curse, just after Voldemort had fled, and then, when he’d found her in the girl’s bathroom fighting Tom. But none of those _sounded_ like the person he heard in his head — no, she was older, someone Harry had never heard before —

The light left her eyes the same time he felt a roar of thunder rip through his chest.

“Mum.” Harry said.

They sat in silence for a very long time, the word echoing for all eternity

* * *

Severus’ fingernails dug into the desk and scraped away at the thin layer of wax covering the desk. He glared into the fireplace, not feeling the warmth emanating from it.

He rubbed at his face tiredly. He’d missed dinner — Dumbledore would undoubtedly be by at some point to remind him that as Head of House, he needed to be present for such things, to make a good impression on the newest batch of little cretins. Severus couldn’t stand to sit near Lupin tonight — he’d have Cursed him in front of the entire Great Hall the moment he’d gotten that pathetic, blood-boiling _smirk_ from the werewolf. He’d of tasted ash in his mouth when the girl had looked up at him, betrayal from his words shining from every each of her face — pain and hurt and anger. And then the boy, with the Lily-eyes and Potter-hair would glare and glare and Severus would most likely have impaled himself with a fork at that point.

Severus had to hand it to the wolf — he’d shown _some_ form of courage, as well as arrogance, strutting up to _his daughter_ right before his eyes and whisking her away. Dumbledore had given him a pointed look, ordered him to stay for several minutes before Severus could take it no more. He’d grabbed Harry where Lupin couldn’t get to him, and then, gone to get _his_ child.

The fucking _nerve —_ the sheer _arrogance —_ as if Lupin had a _shred_ of knowledge of that girl —

As if he had _any_ kind of claim to her.

_Lily had made him her godfather but Lily hadn’t known she’d fallen in love and once you fell in love with one it was all of them —_

And then he’d thrown all of his hatred and loathing back into Ariel’s face, watching her defiance wash away like summer rain, leaving behind only despair and the guilt he’d tried so hard to snuff out last term. Gods, he was such an _idiot —_ how Lupin had ruined things so quickly in such a short time —

He could not let her get hurt again, because if she did, by God, Severus would —

The werewolf needed to be dealt with.

Severus threw himself from his desk, grabbing his cloak on the way out, and stalked up to the main floor. The night air stung at his face, but it felt good, for he’d felt nothing sitting and brooding inside of his quarters, without the girl or the boy there. He almost wished that one of them would run into him — but the hour was already quite late, and they’d have undoubtedly retired to their dormitories for the night.

He eyed the door to the Defense classroom with enough revulsion to turn it to cinder, and knocked.

“Who is it?” that annoyingly pleasant voice called.

“Open the fucking door, Lupin.” Severus snarled back.

There was no reply.

He was contemplating whether he should burn the door down, or Hex it out of the way in hopes that it would impale the wolf when it opened. Lupin did not speak, but only held the door wide enough to allow Severus to enter. The room was dimly lit, still looking like it was uninhabited. There were boxes scattered about, the walls peeling from the Lockhart posters Filch had to scrape off at the end of last term.

They stared each other down, Lupin still at the door. The tea he’d caught them drinking from earlier was still sitting out.

“You know nothing.” Severus spoke first, baring his teeth, “You think that after twelve years, you can assume the role of _loving godfather?”_

Lupin closed the door. His hand lingered on the doorknob.

“You’re right,” The wolf said, “in saying I know nothing. I thought I did, but then, when I saw you and those kids, I realized that everything I held to be true was suddenly not so.”

“And so,” Severus said, “in your arrogance, you thought you should continue to believe you did?”

“The last time I saw those kids, James was their father.” Lupin’s eyes flashed, “Not you.”

“Potter is not mine.” He said stiffly, “But he is under my protection as much as Ariel is.”

Lupin blinked, “They… I assumed when I saw you with… Harry went to the Muggles, then?”

Severus nodded curtly, “There were still Death Eaters are large. Separating the two of them ensured their safety.”

“And you took the girl?”

“I am not here to rehash what you have missed all these years.” Severus sneered, a pang of guilt flaring inside of him, “I am _here,_ tolerating your presence as my patience wanes, because I don't believe I made myself as clear as I should have this morning.”

“I’m not here to try and take her, and I’m _certainly_ not here to do her or Harry or harm.” Lupin said in a sincere tone. Severus nearly believed it.

“They have been through too much for me to be wrong again.”

“You’re referring to their parents’ murders?” Lupin’s eyebrows furrowed.

_It’s me I opened the Chamber of Secrets it’s Quirrell he’s after that Stone_

“Stay away from them,” Severus said, without answering his question, “or you’ll find that I will be _unable_ to brew a certain potion the Headmaster has promised you.”

Lupin’s eyes widened, “You would —”

“I would.” He said coldly.

“You’d be putting the entire school at risk!”

“Oh, that I doubt.” Severus’ thin lips curved into a cruel smile, “I’d like to imagine that the Headmaster would remove you himself every full moon. And who knows? Perhaps some of the students would catch on — perhaps they would put the pieces together, write to their concerned parents, ask what on _earth_ could be ailing their Defense professor so much so that he goes missing for days at a times. People talk, in the magical community, Lupin. I’m sure it wouldn’t take them much time at all…”

Lupin had turned grey, but his eyes were nearly glowing. Severus felt a twinge of triumph, and with one last disgusted look for the wolf, he began to stalk out of the room.

“And if you _still_ don’t get the message,” Severus said, stopping in the doorway, black eyes glittering, “I will tell Ariel myself just what you really are.”

“She has your eyes.” Lupin said.

Severus did not hear him at first, ready to throw another insult behind him —

and then —

and _then —_

Severus did not turn to look back at the him. He did not so much as breath. A foreign sound crescendoed in his ears, like the rush of a tide, the way the wind whipped through trees in a forest, the roar of the earth splitting open and dragging everything down with it —

_You have your father’s eyes, you know that?_

“Before you go losing it,” Lupin’s voice sounded a thousand leagues away, “know that I… I’ve always suspected James wasn’t her father. There was just… the circumstances never seemed to line up the right way.”

The blood in the ends of his fingers turned white hot. He felt his wand tucked away in his sleeve.

“And how,” Severus felt the syllables of his words break the air in front of him, “did you come to _that_ conclusion so swiftly, when you’ve known the girl for barely twenty-four hours?”

“It’s hard to ignore the resemblance, Severus.” Lupin said with a sigh, “As someone who knew James well —”

At the sound of Potter’s name, Severus felt all of his rage, all of his loathing come rushing back to him, slamming into his chest —

He whirled around, wand out, and advanced on Lupin, wand out. The wolf glanced at his it, but kept himself braced against the desk, unarmed, chin held high — the arrogant fucking prick — he could _not —_

Severus saw his hands grip the wolf’s jaw.

“I knew it.” Severus hissed, long and slow, “I knew you couldn’t be trusted —”

Lupin’s eyes narrowed, “You haven’t heard what I have to say yet.”

“I don’t _care_ about what you have to fucking say!” Severus shouted, red sparks flying out of the end of his wand, “I _knew_ your intentions could not be so pure —”

“I _will_ keep your secret,” Lupin finally snapped, a creeping look of annoyance passing over his face, “because I _care_ about her wellbeing.”

“Then where the _hell_ have —”

“You’re going to tell me that if I _had_ come to see Ariel, you’d have let me anywhere near her anyway?”

“Of course not!” Severus snarled, ripping his hand away from the werewolf’s throat, “But I find it just _fascinating_ that after all these years, when Sirius Black escapes, who you and Potter worshipped to the ends of the _earth —”_

“He _killed_ James and Lily!” Lupin shot back, his amber eyes blazing, “Did you know that it was I they suspected? There was a mole — Black must’ve told the lot of them that I’d been talking to other wolves — Greyback — planted doubt. And then, just when they thought they were safest…” His speech cut off, strangled, and Severus felt his own throat constrict.

“A moving tale.” Severus said coldly, compassion nowhere to be found, for he had none when it came to Lupin, “Did you share it with Dumbledore as well?”

“He came to me, Severus.” Lupin said quietly, looking defeated. He sagged against the desk, “I didn’t ask for the position. All I’m asking now is that you let me get to know my godchildren.”

“Ah, that’s the catch, isn’t it?” His eyes glittered, “You’ll keep your mouth shut as long as I let down my guard.”

“I plan on keeping your secret either way. I was hoping you’d see it more as a gesture of good faith on my behalf.”

“If you’re going to blackmail me,” Severus sneered, “at _least_ have the courage to call it that. Are you a Gryffindor, or are you not?”

“It is _not_ blackmail!” Lupin finally snapped, “Do you think me heartless as well as a coward? Or am I simply as soulless as one of the Dementors who are just outside these walls? I could never do that to Ariel — it would… for the world to know…”

Severus studied him — watched the way his chest rose and fell. He couldn't recall ever seeing the werewolf so worked up, even when Potter and Black had obviously been getting on his last nerves. But there was also a desperation in his face, like him revealing that he _knew —_

How was it that Lupin had figured it out, had uncovered Lily’s secret, in the course of a day, and Severus hadn't all those years ago... 

The werewolf was… telling the truth.

At least, in regards to this.

“You say you’ve known.” Severus’ narrowed his eyes, “How?”

“I…” Lupin hesitated, his eyes falling to the floor. Growing impatient, Severus felt a Hex on his tongue, his Inner Dumbledore telling him that attacking a colleague was unadvisable, but then the wolf sighed again and looked back up, “I suppose it was when she was born. You remember how… how Sirius—”

Severus felt the name echo inside his mind and his body tremble —

“— and James were closer than any of us were to them. I walked into that hospital room, and Lily looked at me—”

_You have your father’s eyes._

“— and told me _I_ was her godfather.” Lupin shook his head, as if he still couldn’t wrap his mind around it, “As their first born, it only seemed right that _Sirius_ should be… Lily later told me that she wanted her daughter to have someone… more responsible to be her daughter’s godfather but… it hadn’t made sense—” He looked saddened by this. Severus was puzzled by it.

But only for a moment.

“And let me guess,” He said softly, “you don’t want the title anymore, since Snivellus is nowhere _near_ the honor of being godfather to _Saint Potter’s_ daughter.”

“No!” The wolf looked horrified — insulted, even — Severus scoffed at it. “No, Severus, that has… absolutely _nothing_ to do with this. My point is —”

“Then why bring it up at all?” He hissed back, “Surely this changes things on your behalf?”

“Lily was still my friend.” Lupin said, more strongly than he’d spoken thus far, “You really think I’d abandon her over something so — it’s unimportant to me who her father is.”

“You didn’t have a problem doing just that when Potter was still her father.” Severus said coldly.

“Then tell me, where were _you?”_ Lupin asked in a soft voice, the accusation in his words, but not his tone.

_You have your father’s eyes_

He saw himself approaching that hospital bed, and then the girl in the crib that night — _there was a man crying like he was in pain —_ and then the Headmaster’s office in the light of day —

His heart twisted itself and adjusted, fighting the guilt and the —

But Dumbledore had said just that when he’d first told him of Lupin.

Severus turned his back to Lupin, resting the palms of his hands against a table to the far right of the room, by the windows. There was a tea set set up, some of it still in boxes. He could tell it was expensive china the moment he saw it — white as snow, with sapphire blue designs swirling about — where the fuck had he gotten _this —_ the werewolf was dirt poor —

“I could ask questions.” Lupin asked quietly, “But I won't. That is… a matter between you and Ariel. I won't intrude on that.”

“No,” Severus said flatly, “but you have no reservations about invading everywhere else.”

He could not let anything harm her… harm _them —_ again.

“You will not tell her you know.” Severus said finally, “Or the boy. And if you do, I will know, and I swear it, I will redefine your pathetic Halfbreed anatomy.”

Lupin flinched — though Severus could tell it wasn’t at the threat — it was at the derogatory term. Hitting below the proverbial belt was his specialty, and doing so with Lupin bought him a sliver of joy, the kind that Ariel and Harry didn’t understand.

“Does she not know?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed, like his pea-brain mind was _now_ trying to wrap his head around the situation.

“Of course she does!” He snapped, the images of that day flashing to his mind — how she’d fallen against the back of the couch and cried, the sickness in her face his memories had put there —

“And Harry?”

“No.” He felt like an icicle had been lodged down his throat, “And it will _stay_ that way.”

Lupin still look troubled, but nodded. He turned his back, like he was trying to grab a bearing on all of this. Severus’ eyes went back to the teacups — the very ones Ariel had been drinking from before. He picked it up, inspecting it with this tips of his fingers.

“Those were a gift from the Potter’s.” Lupin said quietly, thought Severus did not turn to look at him as he spoke, “Harry broke one by accident right before they all went into hiding.”

Ah, there it was, once more. Tales of them as infants, flashing before Severus the two years he’d missed himself — the hospital room and the everything in between. Web after web being spun —

“I do not trust you.” Severus traced the design with the pad of his thumb, “But if _any_ part of you, even if it’s the monster you hide and pretend you can control, cares for her, or for her brother, you will keep this between us. In return… I will _allow_ her to make her own decisions in regards to you.”

“I… Severus, I can’t begin —”

“And if you _hurt them,”_ Severus said softly, a razor hidden beneath soft velvet, _“well…”_

He crushed the teacup in his fist.

* * *

The next day, Remus decided to find Harry and speak with him.

He’d decided that this was now deemed Somewhat Safe – he’d sought out Ariel first primarily to annoy Snape, and had thought it better to speak to her one-on-one. Remus was also still trying getting used to seeing James’ son in Slytherin colors. He’d understood, to a certain extent, the House prejudices when he’d been a student, and tried to imagine James’ reaction if he were alive to see it. Remus wondered if one’s upbringing had a significant effect on their Sorting – it depended on the individual’s experiences, he supposed.

James would have been crushed that Harry hadn’t been Sorted into Gryffindor, but not that he was a Slytherin. Lily would have been happy wherever he was. She’d told Remus in confidence one day that she’d rather Harry and Ariel in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, away from the House rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Remus hadn’t understood it back then, but after last night, he did. A lot of things were coming together… but even then, they were still backwards.

He watched Harry from the High Table that morning, trying not to look too much like Snape as he stared. Harry looked… happy… but sad, at the same time. There was a lost look in eyes Remus’ caught flickers of. It was like holding glimpses of a lighthouse in the middle of an ocean. Remus had noted that Harry seemed to have more Gryffindor friends than Slytherin – one of the Weasley boys had been in the compartment on the train. He recalled Fabian and Gideon Prewett at Order meetings, all those years ago, and saw them echoed in two other identical redheaded boys sitting at the Gryffindor table. The boy laughed and smiled along with them, but every once in awhile, his eyes would flit up to the High Table to look at Snape.

It was almost disconcerting to see Harry laughing with Ariel — her hair was hiding her face, like a curtain, so Remus couldn’t see her well enough. It certainly wasn’t Ariel’s responsibility to tell Harry the truth — for Merlin’s sake, the poor girl was only fourteen — but Remus couldn’t help but marvel at how they’d kept it a secret for this _long._ He could imagine the reaction of others…

When Harry finally rose to leave the hall, did Remus move. He noticed how Snape’s eyes followed him as he stood, bidding Albus a good day, and trained his eyes on Harry. He was carrying a broom – a Nimbus, by the looks of it. Remus tried to stifle a smile. Of course the boy flew – he’d flown around James and Lily’s house on a little plastic room Sirius had bought him… he’d gone so fast that James had been nearly _weeping_ with joy. Ariel hadn’t liked the broom one bit – she’d been content to sit in Lily’s lap and watch from a safe distance.

“Harry!” Remus called once they were both outside the Great Hall. Harry had already gotten to the main entrance, undoubtedly in a hurry to go fly. James had done the same thing, sometimes cutting class in order to do so.

He turned, his green eyes glittering in the morning sunlight. They were so bright, that for a moment, they reminded Remus of stained glass.

“Going for a spin?” Remus gestured to the broom.

“Uh, yeah.” Harry clutched the broom to his chest, like he was protecting it. “I haven’t flown all summer. Is… is that, alright?”

Remus blinked, and then he realized that _he_ was a person of authority. He briefly had a flashback to a lost child coming up to him in a Muggle supermarket to ask for help a few days after he’d left Hogwarts. He’d told the child to go and ask an adult, and the boy had looked up at him, bewildered, and said, “but _you’re_ an adult!”

It was like that but… more surreal, because Harry, in his mind, had gone from _baby_ to _boy._ There wasn’t any time in between. It was like falling asleep without meaning to, to wake up and find time gone.

“Yes, of course. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I was reprimanding you.” Remus apologized. “I was wondering if you’d mind the company? I thought I’d go and stretch my legs before my class.”

“Oh!” His face stretched into a smile, and every inch of it was James. “Uh, sure, I guess.”

Remus nodded, a relieved smile passing over his face. He hadn’t expected Harry to say _no,_ but he was still… glad to see that he was welcome. Ariel had stared at him so cautiously… like he was going to bite her. He wondered if that was a Snape-Habit she’d picked up on, or because he’d told her to be wary of him.

As they began their way down the path to the Quidditch pitch, Remus tried to stop equating everything the boy did to James and Lily. He wondered if Snape did the same to Ariel – no, he’d had years and years to get used to the familiar mannerisms he must see reflected in her. Harry was going to be tall for his age – as much as Remus thought the boy was small, it wasn’t really true.

Once they were a good way away from the castle, Remus began to notice that Harry kept glancing over his shoulder, like he was expecting someone to be behind them. Remus raised an eyebrow after the third time, causing Harry to grin sheepishly.

“Snape follows sometimes.” Harry explained, like this was a something any normal professor would do. “With this… Black business… he’s been on edge.”

“Ah,” Remus tried not to sound disturbed by this information. “is this… something he does often?”

He shrugged. “Only if he thinks Ariel and I are in danger.”

Remus blinked. “And is _that_ a frequent concern?”

“Sometimes.” there was something in Harry’s voice that contradicted him.

He wanted to ask more, but decided against it. Remus didn’t know what Harry did and didn’t know, after all. Ariel and Harry… _seemed_ to be close, but he wondered if that was because Harry had friends in Gryffindor, and his sister just so happened to be in that House. Growing up apart… Lily would have strung them all up by their toes. They’d _talked_ about… what should happen, if James and Lily weren’t able. It would have been the three of them – Sirius and Remus and Peter, with Sirius having sole custody, since werewolves couldn’t adopt children…

Somehow, telling them that he’d run (which he had) was easier than admitting _that._

“Well,” Remus gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m sure whatever his reasoning,

“Do you and Professor Snape get along well?” Remus asked, unable to hold back his curiosity. “You sound…upset that he worries.”

Another shrug, and this time, Harry looked away. “He didn’t like me much at first… but he’s… alright. I spent the summer with him and Ariel, and he was… well, he was horrid after Professor Dumbledore told him the Azkaban thing.”

That didn’t surprise Remus in the least, and it made him feel worse. It was like avoiding being Hexed, only to turn in the other direction and see a bolt of red flying towards you, too late to raise your wand in defense. Remus noticed the way Snape watched Harry, though it was different from the way he watched Ariel. He supposed that was expected — your own child must take precedent in certain ways, Remus supposed. He wasn’t a parent — had thought of what it might be like to have one — but the idea of cursing a child with his infliction frightened him beyond comprehension.

If anything… now, all Remus felt was a surge of guilt that James had this one child… that Harry was truly all that was left of him in the world.

Remus turned a corner in his mind, and tried to push that thought somewhere it would not bother him again. 

“It was because of my dad.” said Harry. _Did you know him?_ his voice finished.

He cleared his throat. “Has Professor Snape specified _why?”_

“Ariel just told me that they hated each other…”

Remus felt like he’d been slapped — that kept happening, and didn’t show any signs of letting up. “I see.”

“Snape wouldn’t say,” Harry looked up at him with heart-wrenching green eyes. “He doesn’t say a lot of things. He said you’re Ariel’s godfather… did I have one?”

His heart skipped a beat. How could he tell this boy… this scrawny person that was Not-James and Not-Lily, the truth?

He couldn’t.

_Coward_

“You did,” Remus said. “he’s no longer with us.”

It was the truth, in a way. The Sirius that Remus had known all those years ago wasn’t anything like the man everyone called Black during meals, huddled in tight groups around a cover of the Prophet. He’d died, along with James, and Lily, and Peter.

“Can I ask you something?” Harry looked up at him, his eyes matching the trees around them.

Remus nodded, stopping in the middle of the road. He shoved his hands in his pockets in an attempt to try and hide how terrible he felt, and instead, look a bit more casual.

“Why doesn’t anyone talk about them?” Harry asked. He suddenly looked so much like Lily that Remus had to force himself to blink – the expression was the same as the one he’d seen her wear at Order meetings.

 _“Why did it have to be Marlene?”_ Lily had whispered, right after they’d received word that the entire McKinnon family had been kidnapped and murdered.

It was the same face, the same hunger and lack of knowledge… innocence.

Remus cleared his throat and tried to compose himself. “It’s… different for us, Harry. You didn’t know them…”

“I know that!” He was holding the broom so tightly that the tendons in his hands were sticking out.

“It’s hard for us to talk about them,” Remus said quietly, putting a hand on his shoulder. “because we _did._ You don’t know what you’re missing. We do. I can’t speak for Professor Snape, but I imagine it’s… similar.”

Harry wiped at his face – if Remus hadn’t known his parents, his would have thought he was just itching his nose, but he could see he was trying to compose himself.

“Snape knew my mum.” Harry mumbled. “But you… you knew her, too?”

Remus was stunned – he hadn’t expected Harry to know anything about Snape and Lily since he hadn’t told Harry the truth about Ariel. He… didn’t know how to feel about Snape talking to Ariel about Lily. It wasn’t any of his business, he supposed but, it seemed… perfectly normal. Why should her father _not_ speak to her about her mother?

(no, it wasn’t getting any easier to think about)

He cleared his throat. “I was. Your mother was there at a time for me when no one else was. Your dad, too… he was my best friend, Harry. I was practically living with you four before your parents went into hiding.”

“Really?” Harry whispered. He sounded famished. It was so unlike the way Ariel had responded… there was a hopefulness in his voice, twisted with sorrow. “I… I only have one memory of her. Ariel and I realized that… the voice on the train…”

Remus felt shiver run down his spine. Harry’s words sent him around another wall in his mind — how backwards it was, that one’s memory of Lily was tainted with her terrified screams. Lily would have never lowered herself to scream, to cry, to beg…

Unless it was to save the lives of her children.

“They loved you very much, Harry.” Remus knelt down, and he wondered why _he_ was having to explain this to him, with Snape around… but really, should Remus have expected _that_ much from him? For James’ child? Was it too much to ask of him —

Yes… Remus supposed it was. That didn’t make it right, though.

“That’s what people keep saying.” Harry muttered. “I just… I wish Snape… or _anyone,_ really, would… they don’t seem real to me, sometimes.”

It was the words of child, but Remus couldn’t help but marvel. They — James and Lily — didn’t _seem real to the boy._ How real they’d _been…_ all those years, their lives stretched out before them on these very grounds. Their lives had intertwined here, had lifted up off the ground, only to be dragged down by the War, by Voldemort, and by all of the death surrounding them. It had driven them apart, in the ends, in more ways than one. James and Lily had left to go into hiding with the kids, and Sirius had avoided Remus because he believed him to be the spy, and Peter had been listening…

He remembered their faces, and for the first time since he’d come back to Hogwarts, Remus looked at Harry, and saw him as he was.

“Have I got stories for you, then.” said Remus.

* * *

Squirrel was not nearly as appetizing as Sirius had thought it would be — it had looked better sitting in the tree and staring at him with black eyes than dead and it’s fucking hair sticking to his tongue.

It tasted like shit after a couple of bites — maybe Azkaban had done something to his sense of taste, but then again, Sirius had never had the pleasure of eating fucking _squirrel._ It was the only thing he’d been able to catch in this sodding Forest — everything else was a magical creature — far too fast for him to catch, even as Padfoot. Sirius didn’t dare turn back into his human form yet. He’d be even more fucking useless as a man than a dog— he hadn’t a wand, and was there really even a point to changing back if he couldn’t do any magic?

This had to be the worst thought out plan he’d ever fucking had.

Goddamn _Snivellus —_

Well at least he was out of Azkaban. That _was_ a start. And away from Bellatrix. He hoped she’d chipped her teeth biting away at the bars — crazy bitch.

Sirius spat out the remaining squirrel he was chewing at and padded away, looking for the break in the tree line. The students must have arrived to Hogwarts by now— he’d been traveling for _ages—_

He didn’t even know where to start— he didn’t even have a plan. Merlin’s saggy balls, he didn’t even have a surefire way of getting into the fucking school. He could only imagine the professor’s reactions of Sirius sodding Black walked through the front door— he’d be Kissed before dinner, and then, they’d probably throw a Feast in celebration.

He needed a fucking strategy.

Sirius had spent years twelve years locked away from a crime he hadn’t committed— surely he could wait a week or so for Ariel or Harry to make an appearance. It wasn’t like Snape was _here,_ at Hogwarts. No— he was probably in whatever shit-infested hole he’d dug for himself and up to his greasy little nose in Dark magic.

 _Just a while longer,_ he told himself. Here, they were safe.

A little while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Please review! Xx


	58. Little Lion Man

_“Weep, little lion man, you’re not as brave as you were at the start.”_

* * *

It was late when Ariel returned to Gryffindor Tower that night, though not late enough for her to be considered breaking curfew. That was the _last_ thing she needed at the moment, between her baffling godfather, infuriating dad, a homicidal maniac, and a dead mother.

A hurting brother. A burning heart.

Each step up to the dormitory felt like she was trying to scale a mountain. More than anything, Ariel wanted to spend the night in the dungeons with her father and tell him what she and Harry suspected they’d heard on the train two days ago. But what was the point, if all Severus thought was that she was a reckless danger-magnet? He’d close himself off at the mention of her mum — he wouldn’t offer her anything right now. Tonight, she wished now more than ever than her brother had been Sorted into Gryffindor, and that she didn’t have to leave him in the dungeons.

Ariel knew her father well enough to know that he hadn’t meant what he’d said. It didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. He deserved to stew in guilt, which he was undoubtedly feeling. Ariel felt a twinge of triumph at that, though in the same stroke, that thought made her want to cry.

But Ariel wouldn’t cry — if Tom had taught her anything, it was that tears wouldn’t solve the problem. No, tomorrow, she and Harry had decided to see what they could do about the Dementors so that they wouldn’t have to hear their mum dying over and over again every time they got near. Ariel hadn’t any memories of Lily’s voice — save the ones her father had showed her, but those were _his_ memories. They weren’t her own, of her own recollection and experiences. The only one she apparently _did_ have was of… it had been…

Her first reaction when she’d read the textbook and heard what Lupin had said had been that her worst memory would be about Tom. Ariel couldn’t recall a more horrific, a more terrifying and painful time in her life. She supposed her mum dying made more sense —

Well, Tom had been there either way, though much older. Ariel shuddered. Of course he’d be a part of her worst memory, the same way he haunted the corners of her nightmares and shadows in the night.

She barely felt the warmth radiating from the common room as she stepped past the Fat Lady’s portrait. The usual hustle and bustle that the Gryffindor Tower was infamously known for was afoot — the Quidditch team huddled by the fire, Oliver Wood giving a seemingly intense speech, no doubt about having to bump up their game, figuratively and realistically. The girls in Harry’s year, the Patil girl, and Lavender Brown, were doing each other’s nails with nail polish that changed color. Percy Weasley was scolding a group of first years that looked like they’d just been beaten with wooden spoons by their mothers.

Hermione and Ron were seated on a couch by the entrance to the girl’s dormitories. Ron noticed her first, blue eyes lighting up as he nudged Hermione. She looked up from the textbook in her lap — the Divination textbook, but the looks of it — and stood, strutting over to Ariel.

She sighed — all she wanted was her bed. And a vial of Dreamless Sleep.

And her brother.

_(And her father)_

“Where have you been?” Hermione demanded as she approached, Ron beside her. She hugged the Divination to her chest like it was a shield of some kind.

“Battling Dementors.” Ariel replied sarcastically. She went to move around Hermione to head up to her dormitory, but the third year side stepped and blocked her escape. Ariel’s eyes narrowed, _“Excuse_ me, Hermione.”

“Were you with Harry?” She demanded.

 _“Why_ do you _need_ to _know?”_

“It’s just a question!” Hermione bristled. “Why are you so _rude_ all the time? Can you _ever_ be bothered?”

“Is there something you wanted, Hermione?” Ariel snapped, “If not, I’d like to go to bed in peace.”

“I wanted to ask you about Divination.” Hermione said, her jaw setting, obviously trying to reign in her temper over Ariel’s annoyance, “Harry said you didn’t like Trelawney much, and I was wondering why.”

She blinked, “What? Why?”

Beside her, Ron groaned, “Oh, c’mon Hermione, this is ridiculous!” He looked at Ariel, “Trelawney said she _sensed_ that Hermione didn’t have the _third eye_ or whatever the bloody hell it is we’re supposed to be opening up. She’s looking for reasons to justify probably not doing well in her class —”

“That’s not true!” Hermione went redder than Ariel’s hair.

“I told you it was a waste of a subject.” Ariel smirked at her, crossing her arms, “Her class is… open to interpretation, but after years of being told I was going to die from her, I learned that having her as a professor probably wouldn’t be the best idea.”

“What would she say?” Ron was frowning. Hermione was looking at him smugly.

“Some nonsense about my heart.” Ariel rolled her eyes, _“Your heart, at it’s best, will do wonders when you are put to rest.”_

“She told Harry he had the grim!” Hermione was giving Ron a look now, “I _told_ you both it was rubbish! It was just like Professor McGonagall said —”

“The grim?” She raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that what Harry was worried about at breakfast?”

“It’s an omen of death.” Hermione rolled her eyes, and Ariel’s stomach rolled along with them, “We were reading tea leaves, and she said Harry’s was the grim.”

Why hadn’t he told her that before? Had he brushed it off like Hermione was? Harry would have said something if it had upset him. He didn’t know Trelawney — not like the other professors here.

“It’s not a joke!” Ron said angrily, “My Uncle Bilius saw one, and just a few days later—”

“Yes, you told us.” Hermione cut him off. Ariel half expected steam to start coming out of Ron’s ears.

They began to bicker, and Ariel suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for her brother when she and Damon left him in these situations. She was glad it was only her and Damon, no third party involvement, though with the way Pansy Parkinson looked at him sometimes, Ariel wondered if that would change someday. She really hoped not. She hated conflict, even though as of late, that was all her life seemed to consist of.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow, then.” Ariel said quickly as Hermione ripped open the Divination book in search of textual evidence to throw back at Ron. Neither of them seemed to notice her slip by and up the stairs.

The dormitory was silent, to Ariel’s relief. Sally and Katie, the loudest, and the most popular girls in Ariel’s year, were nowhere to be found, as well as only other girl in her year — Sarah. Ariel didn’t think she’d spoken three words to her, ever.

Ariel quickly rummaged through her trunk, finding her more casual pajamas folded neatly at the top. She kept her old t-shirts and sweatpants up here, where her father couldn’t threaten to burn them. Her nightgowns were all down in the dungeons, but at this point, Ariel couldn’t cared less what the other girls thought about her fashion choices.

She threw on the first things her hands touched, ran a comb through her hair, brushed her teeth, and fell into bed twirling a piece of hair around her finger, letting her mind wander. Her hair wasn’t as curly as it had once been — as she’d gotten older, it seemed to be waving out. She really should have showered, but she didn’t have the strength to get up now.

It was nice and quiet, Sally and Katie down in the common room with all the other Gryffindors, and it felt nice to have the room to herself for once. Ariel wondered, as she curled further into herself, if her mum had slept in one of the beds in this very room at one point. Maybe _her_ bed. Ariel had once checked the bedposts in all the girl’s dorms for the name _Lily_ etched into the wood, like many names were in the boys’. Ron had told her one time that someone with the nickname _Padfoot_ had carved his name into his post.

She’d longed for as far back as she could remember to know more about her parents. McGonagall had given her the tales of James, the stunts and pranks he’d pulled, making her sides feel like they would split open from laughter. Harry had loved hearing them over holiday — she usually saved them for when Severus had thought they’d gone to bed. They would lay there, wide awake, and talk until long after her father went to bed.

Severus had given her the parts of her mum she hadn’t known had existed, and then hidden her away again.

Ariel wondered if Lupin would tell her about her mum if she asked. Would he still want to be her godfather if he found out the truth? Not that it mattered to her — Severus wouldn’t let her near him in a million years after today. Lupin couldn’t have cared _that_ much if he’d disappeared all those years ago. If Lupin had been _that_ dedicated to James, or even her mum, he’d have been around. Ariel was sure of it.

Then who had been the man crying?

It was driving her mad that Harry hadn’t heard him — only she. Ariel racked her mind, trying to figure out who on earth it possibly could have been. Who else had been there? James? No, that couldn’t be. Voldemort had told them he’d killed him first when he’d been living off the back of Quirrell’s head. James had died before their mum. It couldn’t have been him, and even then, would he of had time to cry? To mourn their inevitable fate?

Ariel swallowed the lump in her throat. The hairs on the back of her neck rose, and she peered over her shoulder and out the window to make sure there weren’t any Dementors lurking outside.

The only other person Ariel could think of was Voldemort, but she nearly laughed aloud at the idea. No, it _definitely_ hadn’t been him, which meant…

Someone else could have been there, after their mum and dad had been killed. But who? Dumbledore? Hagrid? Hadn’t Harry mentioned that Hagrid had been the one to take them to Dumbledore at first?

Ariel was beginning to feel a bit stupid, now.

She rolled over so that she was on her back and began to Occlude, wishing for everything to just disappear all at once. How did her father do it so well? Ariel didn’t even think what she called Occlusion _was_ actually Occluding — what Severus did was far more advanced, something that a well-taught wizard could see and recognize what he was doing immediately. Ariel just closed off her mind before she went to bed.

She almost wished she didn’t have to — how nice it would be to talk to her brother while they both slept. But then Ariel remembered how much it had hurt her first year, and let her mind overlap itself, her eyes close, and shut itself away.

The next morning, Ariel awoke to find the dormitory vacant once more. She sat up, confused, until she realized that she’d probably overslept. It was like there was anyone here that cared enough to wake her — the girls looked at her like she might bite them most days. Hermione and Ron were probably anxious to see Harry, anyway.

She rubbed her face — she had Potions first thing. Her father would have noticed her absence and would undoubtedly be angry she’d skipped a meal. Not that she was hungry, but the way he acted some days, one might’ve thought she starved herself or something.

Well, she had, but that hadn’t been her. It had been Tom.

Ariel quickly threw on her robes and grabbed her books. She had Potions today, _and_ Defense. She’d been telling herself it’d be killing two birds with one stone, but now, it felt like someone had dropped a boulder from a high place, and Ariel was stuck at the bottom of a chasm waiting for impact. She certainly felt that way as she descended down to the dungeons, not even bothering to stop by the Great Hall. Ariel wouldn’t have been surprised if she was late — _exactly_ what she needed this morning, but it seemed that fate wasn’t so unmerciful after all. The Gryffindors and Slytherins in her year were all waiting outside the Potion’s classroom door, looking a mixture of eager and nervous.

“Morning.” Damon was waiting by the door for her, “You look like death. I ate your breakfast, by the way.”

Flora and Hestia Carrow giggled at that — Ariel restrained the urge to slam her potions textbook over their heads.

“Thanks, _friend.”_ She muttered, stalking past him.

“I was joking, grouchy.” He nudged her and she jerked away. He frowned, “What’s wrong?”

“Everything!” Ariel snarled, hugging her textbook to her chest.

Sally and Katie were giving her weird looks now, along with the Carrows. She wanted to leave — she didn’t want to sit through a Potions lessons with her father giving her angry looks and Damon trying to make her feel better. She wanted her brother.

Damon gave the group watching them a sideways look, and they all ducked their heads in avoidance of his sharp gaze. His blue eyes were shining, like a bolt of electricity was pulsing through them.

“Are you okay?” He asked in a low voice, “Do you want to see Madam Pomfrey?”

Completely taken off guard by the question, Ariel blinked up at him, “What? I’m not sick, Damon. I’m… I’m just in a terrible mood, that’s all.” 

“You don’t _look_ like you're just in a terrible mood.” He said, “Did you sleep at _all?”_

 _“Yes.”_ She said through clenched teeth.

“Did you sleep _well?”_

“Are you a damn medi witch?” Ariel snapped.

“Do I look like one?” Damon asked in a much lighter tone, “It’s just… with what happened last year —”

“Damon,” Ariel said slowly, “if you don’t stop trying to diagnose me, I am going to feed you to the giant the squid in the lake.” 

 _“Miss_ Potter.”

Ariel couldn’t help it — she cringed as that all too familiar silky-smooth voice reached her ears. She turned around, and found her father towering above her, robes billowing as a rush of cold air exited from the open door of the classroom behind him, and black eyes glittering dangerously.

“If you are quite done threatening members of my House,” He drawled, “I would appreciate it if you would stop blocking the entrance to the classroom. You’re welcome to use Mr Malfoy as potions ingredients, if you feel so inclined, however, once we are inside.”

Damon audibly gulped. None of the other students dared make a sound.

“That’s generous of you, sir.” Ariel said, leveling her glare with his.

Apparently, her father didn’t appreciate the sarcasm, not that she thought he would have. His eyes sharpened, and looked over the sea of anticipating Slytherins, no doubt waiting for him to skewer her for the comment, and the frightened Gryffindors.

“Twenty points from Gryffindor.” Severus sneered, “Now, all of you, _inside.”_

They scurried on past quickly, all of their heads ducked low. Ariel felt her entire face catch fire, and Damon grabbed her arm, giving her a searching look. She avoided it as she and Damon sat down at their table, farthest from her father’s place at the front of the room.

The writing on the blackboard appeared, and Ariel felt her head begin the throb. He was giving them _Moonseed Poison_ their first day? It would take her all of their class time to brew it — Ariel didn’t even have any hopes of escaping early.

“Since many of you have doubtlessly let the material from last term leak out of your thick skulls over summer holiday,” He was _definitely_ Professor Snape now, instead of Dad, “I’ve decided that today, we’ll review one of the more challenging potions from your previous year before we move on.”

“You know,” Damon said under his breath, handing her a stalk of valerian root before she asked for it, “you look like Snape when you glare. It’s unsettling.”

Ariel ground her knife right into the middle of the root, the sound making the tables around them inch away. Damon said no more on the matter, but let the ends of his mouth curl upwards. If her father had heard him, he’d have wrung her neck and then stuffed Damon into a torture chamber of some kind, probably, but even if he’d heard them whispering, he gave no indication. Severus simply billowed on past without giving either of them another look, and tapped his wand against the blackboard.

The class was deathly silent as they worked. Damon kept trying to make small talk, but what Ariel wanted to discuss wasn’t appropriate for where they were right now. She apologized to him with her eyes, and he simply gave her an understanding nod with his head. He watched as she worked, cutting while she brewed, until he reached into his rucksack and pulled out a scrap of parchment and scribbled something down.

His blue eyes glittered, and Ariel was reminded, with a smile, to when they’d been first years and had to pass notes back and forth in Potions to communicate.

It read, _Harry wasn’t at breakfast either. He said he didn’t feel well._

Ariel felt her stomach clench. Of course he didn’t — he’d heard his mother dying right in front of him. That was how he dealt with things, Ariel had come to learn. Harry didn’t explode everywhere like she did. He curled up into a ball and acted like everything was okay. _“I have a stomach ache,”_ was secretly Harry-code for “ _I’m upset about something, leave me the hell alone.”_

 _Dementors,_ Ariel wrote back, and Damon cocked his head in puzzlement. She shook her head at him — now wasn’t the place. She’d tell him on their way to Transfiguration, if they ever got this bloody potion done.

They didn’t speak for the remainder of the class, finishing with six minutes to spare. Ariel decided to spare Damon from being turned into dust with the potency of her father’s glare, put on her brave face, and walked up to his desk to hand in their potion. Severus didn’t look up, for which she was glad, and turned on her heel before he could —

“Miss Potter,” His voice said when she had only taken two steps away, “stay after class. I wish to have a word with you about your behavior.”

Oh course he did. The Carrows sisters erupted into another fit of snickers, and from the corner of her eye, she saw Damon flick his wand and knock over their vial, just as Flora went to bring it up to her father. Ariel smirked at him as she dropped onto the stool beside him.

“I’ll wait for you.” Damon said, “I’d stay here, but I don’t think that’d be very smart. Self preservation and all, you know.”

“No,” Ariel sighed, “it wouldn’t. Don’t worry, this’ll only take a minute.”

“I bet.” He rolled his eyes, slung his rucksack over his shoulder before following the rest of the students out. Flora and Hestia were howling over their ruined potion — they’d vanished the cauldron before they’d handed in the vial. Her father was looking unsurprisingly unsympathetic.

He pulled her forward silently with a crooked finger. Ariel huffed in irritation and slowly made her way back towards his desk.

“You’re writing lines.” He pointed to the chair beside him.

She crossed her arms, “For what?”

“For being openly defiant.” Her father drawled, “Now _sit.”_

“Damon’s waiting outside for me.”

“Then I will tell him to _leave,_ if you think his time will be sorely wasted.”

She sat, falling into the chair with more force than necessary.

“What am I writing, sir?” Ariel ground out.

 _“I will do as I am told without question.”_ He cited, putting down a piece of parchment a quill in front of her.

“How many times?” She growled.

“As many as it takes for you to learn you lesson.”

Great. That would only take _hours_ — she had _classes_ to go to, especially after missing so many last year. _Surely_ he knew that. Gods, he wasn’t going to confine her down her _again_ because he didn’t trust Lupin, was he?

Ariel set the quill to the parchment and began to write. She had to remind herself that if she wrote too forcefully, she’d snap the quill, and her father _definitely_ wouldn’t be happy then. She’d actually gotten quite used to Muggle writing utensils — Harry had a bunch from Hermione — they were called pens, and they were rather difficult to break.

“Ariel.” Her father said after several minutes of her scratching away. She’d already filled up twenty lines.

She scribbled faster, biting the inside of her cheek — she was _mad_ at him, he had —

_(It had been her fault)_

_“Ariel —”_

“What?” She snapped, throwing down the quill, hating how her voice wobbled, “What? Are you afraid I’ll cut myself with the quill? Or maybe I’ll get a papercut from the parchment and bleed to death, because _obviously_ I’m too incompetent to judge anything for _myself._ I mean, just look at what happened with the stupid bloody _diary —”_

Something grabbed her chin — his hand — and jerked it in her father’s direction. His black eyes were glittering dangerously. It seemed that she had snapped the little patience he had, like she had almost snapped the quill.

“You will do well,” There were more than warning signs in his tone, “to _mind your tongue.”_

Ariel ripped away from his grip and stared down at the parchment, the words blurring as her eyes pricked. She would _not_ cry — she was too old — fourteen was _far_ too old. Gods, she couldn’t be so _weak,_ between Tom and fainting at the sight of Dementors because she heard her mum and because her father was _right —_

“Ariel,” He sighed, “look at me.”

She did as he said. Severus didn’t look angry anymore — he was leaning on his elbow and studying her with a calculating look. It made her feel very small, and the force of her glare faltered.

“My comment yesterday was unnecessary, and callous.” His eyes didn’t meet hers, which was very un-Severus-like, “The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. I apologize if I… caused you any amount of distress.”

“It’s not like it wasn’t true.” Ariel muttered back, “I understand why you said it. What I _don’t_ understand is why you don’t want me around Lupin.”

“I don’t trust him.” Her father said, just short of a snarl. He still wasn’t making eye contact. If she heard him say that again, she was going to light his classroom on fire.

“Because he was friends with James.” Ariel crossed her arms, “That’s the _same thing_ you said to me about Harry his first year. You’re hiding something from me.”

Now, he was glaring straight at her, his eyes smoking coals.

“I spoke with Professor Lupin last night,” Her father said sharply, “and I have… decided, for the time being, that if you wish to… he calls it _‘getting to know one another,’_ but, if you would like to decide for yourself, I will trust your judgement.”

Ariel blinked, “Wait… what? Really?”

“Indeed.” He said flatly.

Well —

— _that_ had been unexpected.

“Harry too?” It was her turn to quirk an eyebrow in his direction.

“If he wishes it.”

“Why?” Ariel asked, now suspicious, “What’s the catch?”

“Does there have to be a catch?” His eyes flashed.

“You’re a Slytherin. There’s always a catch.”

“I would have thought you’d have learned by now that you and your brother are exceptions.” There was a joke somewhere in there.

“But you don’t like him, or think I should trust him.”

“We spoke.”

_“About?”_

“Sweet Merlin, girl.” Her father pinched the bridge of his nose, “I am _telling you_ that I reached an understanding with Lupin. I am _allowing you_ to form an opinion for yourself.”

“But _why?”_ She stood up, “What _changed?_ You can’t just… you haven’t told me _anything_ about him, Dad!”

He jerked upon a draw in between their chairs, making her jump. She quickly sat back down, eyeing him warily as he rummaged through, wondering if he was about to shove some kind of silencing potion down her throat. Did those exist?

But it wasn’t potion he slammed down on the desk — in was a roll of parchment.

“Remember this?” He hissed, like it was taking everything he had to do this. It confused Ariel even more.

She stared at the parchment, leaning away, “No. What is it?”

Her father unrolled it slowly, familiar handwriting meeting her eyes. Ariel’s eyes read quickly, while Severus’ read her face.

It was —

She nearly laughed aloud.

“Our _contract?”_ Ariel fought the urge to smile, “This is from when you told me about Mum!”

He nodded shortly, “Yes. If your memory fails you, read the second line.”

“I know what it says.” She shook her head, “I _wrote_ it, remember?”

“Ah, but I am not the one who’s forgetting.” His lips twitched.

Ariel suddenly felt like a deer being cornered, “What are you talking about? It says _no lying to each other.”_

“And _I_ am allowed to withhold information,” Her father said, “if it pertains to your _safety.”_

_Was he seriously —_

“You’re going to use the contract, which you thought was a _stupid idea,”_ Ariel said slowly, “on _me.”_

“It is a contract nonetheless.” He began to roll it up, “And it was, after all, _your_ idea.”

She wasn’t buying that for a second, “So you’re telling me that you can’t tell me what you and Lupin talked about, or other reasons for you hating him so much, because it puts me in _danger?”_

“Precisely.” He said, sounding satisfied with himself.

“I think you’re lying about this.” Ariel told him, very matter-of-factly, “You’re using the contract to your advantage so that you just don’t have to tell him. If Lupin was dangerous, you wouldn’t let me near him at all. This has nothing to do with my _safety.”_

 _Now_ Severus stood, towering over her, glaring furiously. Ariel gulped, her spine pressing into the back of the chair. He grabbed her chin so that she was looking directly up at him. He didn’t have to say anything to get his point across — his message scorched its way past her eyes with the fire in his own.

She stood when he released his hold, biting down hard on her trembling lip.

 _“Wait.”_ Her father grabbed her arm, “Your conversation with Malfoy —”

Ariel couldn’t help it — she groaned.

His eyes narrowed, “Are you unwell?”

“No, I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.” She snapped back.

 _There’s something you’re not telling me,_ his face said. An unkempt eyebrow arched itself.

Ariel hesitated. She didn’t… _want_ to tell him when she and Harry had concluded yesterday, or rather, she didn’t want to tell him _this._ The anguish, the pain, that flashed across his face when she talked about her mum made her never want to mention her again.

But, she didn’t want to keep secrets from him either. They’d spent the previous two years with plenty of those.

“It was Mum screaming that we heard,” Ariel said, “wasn’t it? You knew and didn’t want to say so.”

Her father went very still. The light, however dim, in his eyes, went out entirely.

“And how,” His voice was a mere whisper, “do you come to _that_ conclusion?”

“Harry and I read about Dementors.” Ariel gave a little shrug, “It didn’t take much… it… we didn’t recognize her… it’s the only thing we share, really, that we could think of…”

He didn’t answer her.

Ariel rose a second time, assuming that _that_ confession had ended an already incredibly painful and awkward conversation. Perhaps, when she finally spoke to Lupin, _he_ would tell her what he and her father had spoken about — yes, maybe about the Defense lesson — she wasn’t going to start off the year ripping out her hair and and trying to figure out her father’s motivations _again._

But then Severus did something he did very rarely — he bent down and kissed Ariel’s forehead and tucked her head underneath his chin. She blinked against his robes, taken off guard, before leaning into him.

“I’m sorry.” Her father whispered.

For what he was apologizing for, she did not know.

* * *

Transfiguration had been nothing but a blur — Professor McGonagall, from what Ariel could recall, had them turning mittens into mice. She briefly recalled Damon’s mouse biting him — Ariel hadn’t even tried to Transfigure her own. Her wand felt too heavy in her hand. It sat on her desk as Professor McGonagall flitted about the room and tried to contain any disasters from unfolding.

All she could think about was what her father had said, and that her next class would be with her godfather as the professor.

What had changed? What could Lupin have _possibly_ said to make her father, who trusted no one, save the Headmaster, with their safety? The James rivalry had blinded him once before — had he reconsidered? No, that didn’t see like a very Severus-thing to do.

Now, they were in Defense, and Ariel had no clue had she’d dragged herself here.

Professor Lupin had brought in a Boggart for the first day of classes. Ariel shot Damon a nervous glance as the wardrobe shook violently every time Professor Lupin drew near. He still looked tired — did he ever sleep?

“I swear to Merlin, if he sets that thing on us like Lockhart did,” Damon whispered to her, “we’re transferring.”

Ariel gave him a small smile, but the both of them took a step back, though Lupin had proved to be a better professor than Lockhart already, in her opinion. He had been lecturing on the nature and whereabouts and origins of Boggarts for several minutes now, something Lockhart had _never_ done. Lupin actually knew what he was doing, or so it seemed so far.

“Now, the best and possibly only way to get rid of a Boggart is laughter.” Lupin said to the class as he noticed the wary faces around him. “When the Boggart appears in whatever form it takes, you must shout ‘ _Riddikulus!’_ ” His eyes glanced over the crowd before resting on Cho Chang, a Ravenclaw, “Ah, Miss Chang! Would you be so kind as to join me at the front?”

She nodded quickly, making her way to the front of the class. Ariel recalled talking to her on the boat ride their first year. She’d seemed nice, then.

“Now, Miss Chang, what do you fear most?” Lupin asked softly.

“S-snakes sir.” Chang was clearly not used to having all the attention on her. Ariel nearly snorted at the irony.

“Ah, yes, quite a common fear.” Lupin patted her shoulder reassuringly, “Now, I want you to —”

The rest was cut off as he leaned close to Chang and whispered into her ear. She nodded and took a hesitant step forward, her wand at the ready. However nervous she seemed, it appeared she wasn’t going to back down. Ariel leaned forward eagerly, happy for once she wasn’t in her position.

The wardrobe unlocked with a loud _click_ and sure enough, out slithered a ten-foot cobra, hissing menacingly at the quivering Ravenclaw. For a moment, it looked as if Chang was going to try and make a run for it, but instead she raised her wand higher and cried, “ _Riddikulus!”_

There was a loud _crack_ and the snake suddenly became a jack-in-the-box. The entire class burst into laughter and Lupin clapped his hands in applause, “Well done, well done! Well, who’s next?”

Katie Bell took a confident step forward, and the jack-in-the-box morphed into a giant scorpion.

“ _Riddikulus!”_ She yelled, and suddenly the arachnid was wearing a brightly colored wig.

Roaring, the rest of the fourth years scurried to line up behind her, the sounds of their laughter, the loud _crack_ of the Boggart shifting, and the word _Riddikulus_ being all that filled the room for several minutes. Ariel stood behind Damon on her tiptoes, watching as the Boggart changed from a banshee quacking like a duck instead of screeching, a fire turning into fireworks, a bat morphing into a puppet on strings—

As the line quickly brought Ariel and Damon to the front, her excitement seemed to evaporate.

What form would the Boggart take for her? She quickly wracked her mind— her father and brother dying were something she was afraid of, but could a Boggart morph into dead people?

And then there was Voldemort—

_Tom—_

The realization washed over her like cold water, and then, fear gripped at her heart like a pair of claws. Her organs felt they were about to fall out of her chest.

What if _Tom_ stepped out of that wardrobe? Tom, with those cold grey eyes and dark hair. His high, cold voice, shrieking in rage, in triumph, with laughter as she baulked under the weight of his rule, under all of her mistakes.

She… she couldn’t face that again. She… she… had killed him… he was gone…

Until he stood before her again.

Why the fuck was everything leading back to Tom? Ariel thought she’d be rid of him… a new year at Hogwarts, a new start—

_(She’d never truly be rid of him)_

Things could never be simple, it seemed.

She grabbed Damon on the arm, was about to make her way to the back of the line when he instead, stepped forward, the Boggart twisting and turning longer than it had for the other students, finally taking the form of a woman Ariel had never seen before. Long, dark hair, almost identical to the color of Damon’s, fell around the woman’s face in wild, thick curls. Her eyes a shocking blue, just like his, stared hungrily at Damon from behind heavily hooded lids.

She looked famished.

His wand fell from his fingers with a clatter to the floor.

Lupin was in front of Damon almost immediately. The Boggart changed into a silver orb, floating in mid-air.

“ _Riddikulus!”_ Lupin cried, and the orb turned into a deflated balloon, zooming back in the wardrobe, which locked with another _click_. “That will be all.” He said quickly as Ariel shoved Katie Bell out of the way — they were all crowding around him like he was some great spectacle —

The class protested with loud groans, but began to disperse, giving Damon questioning looks and glares as they piled out, no doubt eager to get to lunch. He still hadn’t moved.

“Damon?” Ariel grabbed his arm tightly, “Damon, are you alright?”

He didn’t answer. His face seemed to have frozen like the rest of his body, his eyes glazed over. Lupin approached him as the last of the students left—

And then he picked up his wand without a single word to her, and fled the room.

Ariel started after him, but felt a hand grip her shoulder. She looked up to find Lupin beside her, looking at the doorway where Damon had disappeared

“Leave him be,” He said quietly, “I’m sure he needs a few moments to himself.”

She jerked her shoulder out of his grip, “He’s my friend! I have to—”

“Trust me, I think he’d rather be alone right now.” Lupin let go of her and jerked his head in the direction of his office, “Such things, when they are uncovered, are best left to be pondered in silence.”

“He shouldn’t have to be alone.” Ariel argued, following him despite her growing irritation. Like Lupin knew _anything_ about friendship —

“That was his mother.” Lupin said quietly.

Her insides seemed to glaze over with white hot brand searing them together, the way Damon’s eyes had.

_The Lestranges, as you probably already guessed, were part of the Dark Lord’s ranks—  Bellatrix Lestrange being the closest to him… she was ruthless, willing to do whatever she needed to do to please her master –_

_“Bellatrix?”_ Ariel asked, uneasily.

He nodded.

“That was his _mum?”_ She whispered. She couldn’t imagine… to have your greatest fear be your parent…

“I would never have done this if I had known.” Lupin was shaking his head, and when he looked at Ariel, his face was full of guilt, “I didn’t even think of… of something like _that…”_

“You couldn’t have known.” Ariel swallowed loudly, “I didn’t, and I’m his mate… if anyone should have, it should have been _me.”_

“You two are… close?” His eyebrows furrowed in an expression of extreme confusion.

“He’s my _best_ mate.” She said defensively. Sometimes, it was hard to remember that her being friends with the son of two Death Eaters might come across strange, or even mad, to outsiders.

“May I ask,” Lupin gave her a kind smile, one that didn’t quite reach his grey eyes, “why you hid when your turn was approaching?”

Her insides turn to ash. He’d noticed? Some Gryffindor _she_ was— cowering in front of an entire class, with a dark creature that was basically harmless among a crowd of laughing students.

“I… I wasn’t…” Ariel bowed her head in shame.

“You know, your brother was rather bold this morning.” Lupin chuckled, and Ariel looked back up, “For a moment, I feared we might have a lion in snake’s clothing.”

“He’s a Slytherin, all right.” She muttered, “He’s got a lot more sense than me, most times.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.” He cocked his head.

“No, it is.” Ariel said bitterly, “Why’re you showing every class a Boggart, anyway?”

“Just the third years and up.” Lupin shook his head, “I wanted to get a gage on each of you in your abilities before I began the actual curriculum.”

“I guess I failed, then.” She said, wrapping her arms around herself.

“You weren’t being graded.” He said gently, “It’s understandable, to fear what you do not know.”

“And what if I do know?” Ariel rasped, her head throbbing at the echoes of memories of Tom’s voice.

Lupin paused, turning away from her to place his wand on his desk. The room was still a mess, though it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been yesterday. There were less boxes— Ariel noticed, though, that a teacup lay in pieces on a table by the windows.

“Then I would think facing that fear is something you must come to conquer in your own time.” Lupin said finally, “You and your brother have unspeakable horrors in your past, some that grown wizards and witches would never be able to face themselves.”

Ariel didn’t respond to that. She didn’t know whether she agreed with it or not. She’d killed Tom, or at least, the part of him that had lived inside of that diary. She’d never panicked as such before— she’d run straight to Quirrell-Mort, had raised the Sword of Gryffindor high above her head as her brother lay dying—

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Lupin leaned against his desk, “what do _you_ think it is?”

Tom, standing in his Slytherin robes, his eyes redder than her hair, the smile that made her blood run cold—

“I- I have to go.” Ariel stammered, backing away, “I have to go find Damon… he must think… I…”

Lupin was back on his feet almost immediately, his face full of concern, the kind that Ariel saw in Mr and Mrs Weasley’s face when they’d come for Ginny after the Chamber. It was the kind a parent had— her father didn’t look like that— he always looked angry, or nothing, because that was how he handled emotions. He was a living flame, or about as interpretive as a rock.

“I wasn’t trying to upset you.” Lupin’s hands were on her trembling shoulders, “You don’t have to tell me.”

She nodded— ashamed and mortified. He must think her a nutter—

“I’m sorry, Professor.” Ariel said, “I… I didn’t mean…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.” Lupin shook his head, “It was wrong of me to pry.”

“I don’t know _how_ to.” Ariel whispered. She could only imagine how he would react if she told him what she’d done— what _really_ haunted her at night, the monster who had killed her parents standing in their midst, even if it wasn’t _really_ him—

“I understand.” He said quietly, and she couldn’t help but identify the thing in his voice that wasn’t worry as hurt— and she didn’t know why her stomach twisted in guilt— because he _hadn’t been there—_

“I should go.” Ariel said, “Damon…”

Lupin gave a gesture a dismissal, and Ariel made for the door, feeling her heart morph into a ball of lead and land in the pit of her stomach. How could so much be going wrong _already—_ Tom was gone, her brother and father were on good, better than she imagined, terms, she had a _godfather_ and her best mate—

Stupid _Sirius Black_ and those _bleeding Dementors—_

“Ariel?” Lupin called softly.

She turned, not even bothering to hide her embarrassment. She felt like she was running away with her tail between her legs.

“If you ever change your mind,” He paused. “you know where to find me.”

Ariel nodded. “Thank you, Professor.”

When she shut the door, Ariel looked down at her wand, and for a split second, something inside her head whispered _“snap it – you don’t deserve one.”_

She pulled herself together, slipped her wand into her sleeve, like her father did, and went to find Damon.

* * *

Harry felt the breeze tousle his hair, and thought of the Dementors that were reportedly guarding the gates of Hogwarts.

What was it Professor Lupin had said? That he feared fear itself? That didn’t sound right— Dementors made you experience your _worst_ memories, not the scariest. Or maybe they were the same thing. What could be worse than hearing your mum die?

All he wanted to do was fly now— be alone and soar above the clouds, where, hopefully, there were no bloody Dementors. He had a feeling that if Severus were here, he wouldn’t approve of this, but then again, Severus wasn’t _his_ father, was he?

Harry was heading down the winding path the curved closest to the tree line of the Forbidden Forest, ready to forget the events the day had held. Between Trelawney telling him he was destined for death, and finding out that Dementors, and what happened when they were near, was his greatest fear, Harry was feeling quite smothered, like some unfathomable darkness was closing in around him. He’d laid in bed last night after reading about the Dementors with Ariel, watching his nightmares leer at him from the jagged shadows inside his dormitory. He missed sleeping in the same room as his sister, waking up to find her there and reassure him that he was not alone.

Lupin had told him after class that fearing a Dementor was no show of weakness— if anything, it made Harry smart, like he could _choose_ what he was scared of, and what he wasn’t. And then he’d gone on about his dad and how’d they’d been friends, like he had with Ariel, and Harry couldn’t help wondering if he’d even meant it. Lupin was _Ariel’s_ godfather, after all, the same way Severus was _her_ father, and the last thing he wanted was for him to reach out to him out of _obligation,_ or because his sister had asked.

She knew she would, because she’d think it was the right thing to do, but all it did was make Harry feel even farther away from everyone and everything some days.

Lupin had told him all about his parents yesterday, though. Would he go through _that_ much effort so quickly, even if Ariel _had_ asked?

A gust of wind shook through the tree line. Harry stopped to watch it— he wondered how the hell Ariel still went to that rock in the Forest after the Quirrell incident his first year. He’d never admit it, but every time she asked to meet there, his stomach ate itself in nervousness. But that was what made Ariel a Gryffindor, Harry supposed.

Just as he was about to set off again, he heard a growl rumble past his ear. Harry whirled around, scanning the foliage, as something black emerged from behind a fir tree.

It was— a dog?

Harry squinted as it approached— what was a _dog_ doing on Hogwarts grounds? They weren’t allowed as pets. Was it a wild dog? Were there even wild dogs in this part of Scotland? Then again, Harry didn’t dare question what did and didn’t live in the Forest.

It had definitely noticed him. Harry froze, feeling for his wand in his robe sleeve— that’s where Severus said it was best to keep it, instead of his back pockets, where he could _“blow his buttocks off.”_ Ariel had said that had never happened, but her father had given her a nasty look at that.

It was just his luck to get attacked by a bloody dog.

The hairs on the back of it’s neck were standing up straight as it crept towards him. Harry racked his brain for spell— Stupefy would do the trick Should he wait till it got closer, or…  

And then it stopped, and cocked its head at Harry, like it was confused, and broke into what Harry could only describe as a doggy-grin. It straightened up and began to wag its tail excitedly.

Harry blinked in shock as the dog bounded over to him, keeping his wand at the ready. It stopped right in front of him, where Harry could get a better look at him. He was huge, and covered in shaggy, black fur. It looked like it had never had a bath before.

His head nudged at Harry’s hand, and he allowed himself run a hand through his fur. The dog panted happily and jumped up, licking away at his face.

“Hey!” Harry laughed, scratching the dog’s neck, “Hey, down! _Down!”_

The dog barked, jumped up and began to run around Harry in circles.

Off in the distance, some laughed loudly. Harry looked up, over at the Quidditch pitch, and saw someone shoot upwards on a broom. He squinted his eyes, recognizing the dark hair and Slytherin robes. It was Damon— Harry was surprised, he was supposed to have class with Ariel, he was sure they’d still be together.

Another broom appeared alongside his, to Harry’s bewilderment. Damon usually only practiced with _him—_ was he up there with Flint?

The sunlight glinted off the second boy’s hair, platinum blonde.

Was that—

What that _Draco?_

What the—

What was Damon doing flying with _Draco?_ They couldn’t stand one another— or at least, that’s what Harry had concluded. They argued constantly. And after what had happened last year with Lucius, with what Draco had said—

When Harry looked back to the dog, all he could see was a black mass disappearing behind the trees from where it had once come. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Please review!


	59. Snake Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry the updates have been a bit later in the day – I have things already due to the music department and I’m scrambling to get it all together (it’s just the first day back and I’m dying).
> 
> Anyway, here’s an update. I’ll try and do a double tomorrow (one in the morning, one in the evening, so keep an eye out).

Damon didn’t want to label himself as someone who was _hiding,_ but it sure felt like he was doing just that.

He’d never felt embarrassment before — maybe the second-hand kind, like when Arthur Weasley had punched Uncle Lucius in Diagon Alley a year ago. It just wasn't a position Damon had ever been in before. Aunt Cissy had made sure of _that._

_“Decorum, Damon.”_ Aunt Cissy had told him once. _“How you handle yourself will show the others how they are to respect you.”_

He’d thought a lot about what that meant. Draco had interpreted it as what Lucius said and did. It was very easy to do what was shown to you, Damon realized, if you enjoyed it. He had never – Narcissa had once told him he reminded her of her sister – Damon’s _other_ aunt. He’d never met her, but he’d heard Narcissa saw once that she’d lowered her standards to a repulsive level. Damon figured that meant she’d married a Muggle, or at the very least, a Muggleborn wizard.

Draco was… well, he was still the boy Damon had grown up in many ways. He’d always yearned for Uncle Lucius’ admiration, beaming when he’d parrot, and Lucius would nod in approval. Damon had never liked doing that. He’d tried when he’d been very little, and it had never seemed to be enough. Draco was also clingy, which was very unlike Lucius, but Narcissa welcomed it, the way she welcomed Damon, or at least, what Damon let her see. That’s why he’d gone to see him today. Draco was as scared of Bellatrix as much as Damon was, though he’d never categorized it as _fear_ before. Disgust, hatred, yes, but… it wasn’t like a Slytherin to fear. It was… Narcissa would use the word _inappropriate._

The image of his mother staring him down with those icy blue eyes —   _his own eyes_ —  still hadn’t left his mind. It was like they’d been seared into it, and now that they were there, they’d always be watching him.  

Damon hadn’t even remembered what Bellatrix looked like. It had been many years since he’d found the newspaper clippings. Narcissa kept them – Damon didn’t know why – but he’d liked to go through them when he’d been very small. That was back when he couldn’t read, when the pictures on the pages hadn’t had meaning. Childhood had afforded him the opportunity to dwell in his imagination, where his mum and dad weren’t with him, but they had been. The newspaper made them real, because it meant other people had known them.

As the years went by, and Damon had learned to read, the pictures suddenly didn’t matter as much. The pages were worn and faded, but as he’d begun to skim through, there had been words he’d never recognized before – murder, kidnapped, torture, Death Eater, You-Know-Who…

Damon knew how to be terrible. He just didn’t like it… much. It didn’t _give_ him anything, unless someone was pissing him off, and no one had ever given him a reason to be, but he certainly didn’t have a problem telling someone to fuck off. That was what he liked about Ariel, he supposed. Damon had noticed her their very first day here, and how the other students looked at her the way they looked at him. He’d caught on rather quickly that many of the Slytherins were cautious because of who he was, and his mum would have wanted him to be. And then, he’d remembered how Lucius had mentioned that Ariel Potter was been watching by Severus Snape, the Potions master at Hogwarts, and he’d wondered if he’d found another orphan like himself. Ariel could be scathing, and Damon could too, but chose not to be. It meant people left him alone, more often than not.

That was something Damon had slowly come to terms with, as he’d gotten older. Damon technically _wasn’t_ an orphan, and neither was Ariel. No one else knew that, or how he felt, or what he wanted. He often wondered if the other students knew as much as he did… that when the Aurors had cornered his mum, that she’d been ready to take his life, because she’d considered him _property._

When the Dementors had come near, he’d heard her – _“You’ll never take him! He’s mine – MINE! If I can’t have him, then no one can!”_

Narcissa had never told him that; Narcissa hadn’t told him a lot of things.

From the small glimpse he’d gotten of Bellatrix, she looked like him — only female, and older. The eyes were the biggest similarity; only hers held the kind of appetite that was feral, like she’d never once seen another person, and now that she’d found Damon, she would never let him go. He’d almost felt paralyzed by her stare; it had frozen him in his tracks. He’d embarrassed himself in front of everyone… he hadn’t even been able to cast the spell…

He’d never felt so helpless in all his life.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sneering voice. “Hey, Malfoy!”

Damon looked up —  he only just realized he’d been pacing the Slytherin common room back and forth. Striding out from the dorms was Parker Wright, a boy in his year, accompanied by Pansy Parkinson.

Parker came closer, a smirk playing on his face. “Want to tell us why your mummy made an appearance in Defense today?”

Anger immediately bubbled up in the pit of his stomach, creeping its way into his throat. “Shut up, Wright.” He growled, his voice quiet.

“I didn’t think you’d _have_ any fears, Malfoy.” Pansy called in a mocking tone from behind Parker. “Let alone your own mother!” She giggled at the thought of this, and it took everything in Damon not to Hex her senseless.

Damon snorted, playing off his inside frustration. “You know, Pansy, I’m surprised you didn't walk out of that wardrobe, seeing as I heard you getting your rocks off the other night, I’m pretty sure those sounds have been seared into my nightmares.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Parker Wright fighting what looked like a very strong urge to laugh.

Pansy went redder than Weasley’s hair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Damon shook his head. “I’m just sorry for anyone who has to share a room with you. They have my sincerest sympathies.”

Pansy ran a hand through her hair, and Damon could tell she was trying to muster up a good comeback. “At least I’m not in love with Gryffindor’s Golden Girl.” She spat.

Now it was Damon’s turn to go pink. “I’m not _in love_ with anybody. Especially not Potter.”

“We’re not _stupid,_ Malfoy.” Parker spoke this time, and he started to pace around Damon tauntingly. “You hang around Princess Potter with your tail between your legs.”

“I wonder what you two do with all that time in the forest?” Pansy chimed in. “Probably snogging, I’d imagine. I shouldn’t really dwell on that image, though — it might walk out of Professor Lupin’s wardrobe.”

“Shut up, Pansy. You drool over Draco, and I’m pretty sure everyone can vouch for me on that.” The intensity of his stare made her blush, exactly the effect he’d hoped for.

“At least I’m not you, Malfoy. I mean, you’re in love with Princess Potter —”

Damon gave a ripping snort in response.

Pansy wiggled a finger in front of him. “Oh, I’m not finished. Your parents are rotting away in Azkaban – how do you think they’d react to finding out you fancy Potter, and that you’re _afraid_ of your _mummy?”_

“Bite me, Pansy.” Damon snarled, unable to help himself. He could usually handle her remarks here and there, but today… he’d given them an opening, and he felt stupid for letting it happen.

Lucius and Narcissa didn’t know because Draco hadn’t told him. The other families hadn’t mentioned it to them because there was something about _being_ a Malfoy that exempted them from being gossiped about, and Damon fell under that protection. That _was_ what the name afford him, after all, but Damon could pretend, even if word did ever get back to them. He was the greatest pretender, whether he was standing on the edge of the night by himself, or in the cold, morning light.

That was why he still trusted Draco. He could be as bitter as he wanted to be, but he still valued Damon.

“Is that what you tell Princess Potter?” Parker snickered.

The fury in the pit of Damon’s stomach reignited, and he felt it infusing its way into his brain. He pointed his wand straight at the mirror hanging behind them – it was enormous, the rims clouded over in age, but the frame ornate. There were intricate carvings – most of them were of Slytherin himself. 

It shattered, the shards landing over them. They both seemed to realize simultaneously what had happened as they leaped out of the way, the shards landing in their hair. It wasn’t enough to harm either of them – just scare them, and that was exactly what Damon had been going for.

Pansy shrieked. “Salazar and Helga – what the hell is _wrong_ with you?”

Damon didn’t say anything. He glared at them, his wand still unsheathed, and ready to fire again if need be.

He didn’t feel bad, though. Better Pansy and Parker feel like shit than Ariel. She wouldn’t have understood… even if Snape _had_ been a Death Eater at some point. His mum wasn’t like Snape.

Bellatrix was as unreachable as the feelings Damon wanted to crush, but couldn’t touch.

It was in the eyes – he could tell she would always be dangerous.

* * *

Ariel had checked her rock, scoured the library, and sat outside of the Slytherin common room for nearly two hours, but Damon was nowhere to be found.

She didn’t have any idea where else he could have gone— perhaps _that_ was why Ariel couldn’t find him. Maybe Damon didn’t want to be found. Understandable, yes, but if she didn’t make sure he was okay soon, Ariel was quite sure that she was going to _have_ some kind of panic attack.

Gods, where could he have gone?

Ariel was grateful Lupin hadn’t followed her— with that concerned look that had no clue— as if he had _any_ right to ask her what she feared. She could only have imagined his, and the class’ reaction, if Tom Riddle had come waltzing out of that wardrobe. Had Lupin said it had been _his_ idea to bring in a Boggart? It was all so _stupid—_ as if _anyone_ would _want_ to know what their greatest fear was—

Maybe her father was right. Maybe it was best to stay away from Lupin.

_Your judgement nearly got you and your brother killed last year_

She almost felt like another surprise was going to come flying out at her when she rounded the next corner. Ariel didn’t know much about godfathers, or Dementors, or this Sirius Black, but she sure did know about her best friend, and it wasn’t like Damon to just go missing like this.

Ariel turned the corner, and walked right smack into a tail full of what felt like straw. She spluttered, pushing it away, finding that it was Harry, and his Nimbus.

“Why the hell was Damon out flying with Draco?” Harry demanded the same time Ariel asked, “Have you seen Damon?”

“He’s _flying_ with Draco?” Ariel scoffed, unbelieving.

“Why aren’t _you_ with him?” Harry crossed his arms, looking just as skeptical.

“I’ve been _looking_ for him all afternoon!” She growled.

“Well, it seems like he doesn’t want to be found.” Her brother looked betrayed, like someone had just told him Draco got been given the Seeker position, “He’s at the Quidditch pitch, having a right old’ time with his cousin—”

“Are you _positive_ it was Draco?” Ariel raised a disbelieving eyebrow. The thought of Damon willingly hanging around Draco sounded about as realistic as her father and Lupin having tea together.

“I _saw_ them!” Harry said angrily, green eyes flashing, “They were flying— it didn’t even look like they were _practicing.”_

She suddenly felt like a ball of white hot lead had landed in the pit of her stomach, “You’re… you’re sure?”

Her brother nodded, some of his irritation seeming to ebb. He leaned against the wall, using the Nimbus as something to lean on. Ariel was once again reminded that he wasn’t so _little_ anymore— they were the same height. She was no longer looking _down_ at him.

“Why would he be with him?” Ariel shook her head, “I’ve been searching _everywhere—_ he went to _Draco_ of all people?”

“Didn’t you guys have Defense together?” Harry asked, confused, “Where did he go after that?”

“He ran out of the classroom.” She muttered, shuddering internally. The woman with the heavily-hooded lids and her friend’s eyes searching hungrily…

“What?” Harry straightened up, _“Why?”_

“Because his Boggart was his mum.” Ariel told him, sinking against the wall. She was suddenly very tired, her joints aching. It was great to know that she’d spent her time trying to make sure her friend was alright, when meanwhile, he was off frolicking with the enemy…

Damon and Draco had _never_ gotten along. The only time she’d seen them in a _remotely_ polite, neutral situation, had been when she’d found them into a compartment together the year before, but even then, Draco had gotten angry and stormed out. Granted, that had been because of _Ariel,_ but Damon had taken _her_ side. Harry had told them about the rows they had in the Slytherin dorms— she didn’t even think he’d told Ron and Hermione about them. She certainly hadn’t told anyone, save her father, who had very little to say on the matter, seeing as he still thought Damon was as trustworthy as Lupin.

Harry didn’t say anything to that, and Ariel didn’t look up at him to watch his reaction play out across his face. She felt sick to her stomach. Why had Damon sought comfort with Draco instead of her?

Her brother sat down beside her, letting the Nimbus fall at their feet.

“Mine was a Dementor.” Harry told her, like they were discussing the weather. She could tell that he was trying to distract her.

“I know,” Ariel said, her eyes in her lap, “Lupin told me.”

His head whipped to one side, “He did?”

“He did.” She said.

Harry was quiet for a minute, “I thought about it being Voldemort at first. But then… I thought about how helpless I felt on the train. I still feel cold from it.” He rubbed his hands together.

Ariel frowned, “Still?”

“You aren’t?” He asked, giving her a knowing look.

She was. It was thanks to Occluding Ariel wasn’t having nightmares about it. Ariel didn’t want to tell her father, for fear he’d put her on bed rest or something, but she hadn’t felt warm since before the train ride.

Ariel didn’t answer Harry. She simply sighed and hugged herself, staring into the space ahead. It was quiet, save the light wind that floated through the corridor. She hoped that no one stumbled upon them and made them move.

It was then that she realized Harry was staring at her, his green eyes searching hers for something.

“What?” Ariel asked, shifting uncomfortably.

Harry just gave her a look.

_“What?”_ She bristled, getting annoyed.

“You haven’t said what yours was.” Harry said, nonchalantly.

Ariel glared, “That’s because I don’t know what it is.”

He blinked, “You didn’t see?”

“I didn’t get a chance.” She lied, not wanting to tell him that the Gryffindor in her had decided to dive under a table and abandon her when she’d needed courage the most. Stupid _Tom,_ stupid _Ariel— your judgement almost got you and your brother killed—_

“Because of Damon's?” Harry guessed.

“The sight of a Death Eater standing in our midst kind of put a damper on the mood.” Ariel said sourly.

“If your Boggart turned into Snape,” said Harry. “I’d set his classroom on fire.”

Ariel snorted, “That’s sweet.”

“What do _you_ think yours _was,_ then?” Harry asked, nudging her.

She was having deja vu. Hadn’t Lupin just asked her that? He probably wouldn’t ask her anything ever again— she’d acted like a madwoman, getting all nervous over a stupid sodding _question._

Ariel gave a little shrug, “Why do _you_ think Damon was with Draco?”

He mirrored her actions from before, and she glared in response.

“Maybe he was planning on finally offing him.” Harry suggested, “It _would_ look like an accident.”

He was doing that thing Harry did when he saw someone upset when he was too. He was putting his feelings somewhere else and making sure _Ariel_ was alright. She studied him as he gave a James-Potter-ish smirk, and wondered if Harry would ever stop holding his emotions as secondary. She _wanted_ him to tell her about the Dementor.

Or perhaps, Harry wanted to talk about it as much as she wanted to talk about the assumption of hers being Tom.

“What was Draco’s Boggart?” Ariel asked him.

His face clouded over in thought, and then, his eyebrows furrowed together, “Come to think of it, I think he hid when it was his turn.”

* * *

Remus moved through the castle, second guessing his every step.

He told himself he had a genuine motive this time— not just the hope that his spite and curiosity were rightly placed. Remus was going about all of this the wrong way, but really, how _was_ he supposed to go about it in a way that wouldn’t anger Snape _and_ upset the kids? It wasn’t like he’d been warned about his best friend’s arch nemesis having custody of his goddaughter, and the other in the House James and Sirius had sworn war upon when they’d been students at Hogwarts. Harry looked at him like Lupin had filled him – as if he’d once been empty – and Ariel like a deer in headlights.

What was Ariel so afraid of? Yes, it was common for children to fear what they did and didn’t know— but what could have scared her so badly? The blush had faded from her cheeks when Lupin had asked her, and her eyes, which were very much like her fathers, but at the same time not, had glassed over.

It had reminded him of Lily, in a sense, but also, of Snape.

Merlin, that was going to take some getting used to.

Perhaps Remus was out of line for venturing to the dungeons in search of Snape, yet _another_ action he never thought he’d have the displeasure of pondering. But the expression on Ariel’s face had been haunting him since she’d fled the room— it had taken everything Remus had not to go after her, knowing he’d probably only upset her more.

_“I- I have to go.”_ Ariel had stammered, backing away, her eyes begging. Her face had screamed, _“please don’t ask me that.”_

It was extremely worrisome, because not only did Ariel _know_ what her Boggart was, but she was afraid of seeing it, and for _others_ to as well. Did she think it Voldemort? No— Harry had said they didn’t fear him, that the idea of Voldemort hadn’t seared itself into their minds that it had for an entire generation.

Needless to say, as Remus’ stomach churned and mind raced, he needed to talk to her guardian about this development— or at least to _him,_ it was a development.

He knocked on Snape’s door.

Before Remus could blink, the door was thrust open, and in its place stood Snape, who looked like he was harboring the beginnings of a migraine under the layers of revulsion his face showed at finding out who had called upon him.

“Severus.” Remus inclined his head in greeting, gauging his reaction carefully.

“What do you want?” Snape snapped, his hand gripping the door in a way that told Remus it was seconds away from being slammed shut in his face.

“I’d like to have a word,” Remus said, quirking an eyebrow, “unless of course, this is a bad time?”

“It is.” The door was inches away from Remus’ face, until he shoved his foot in between the frame. Snape glared, but made no move to open the door again.

“I’d like to talk about Ariel.” He said.

Snape’s face darkened significantly, “What about her?”

“I think it’s best if we discuss this in private.” Remus said, trying to muster enough strength to smile politely, “May I come in?”

He didn’t answer. The door simply stopped pressing itself against Remus’ foot, and Snape disappeared from sight. He entered, closing the door gently behind him, and found that Snape had taken his place leaning against the front of his desk. His arms were crossed, and his expression a mixture of skepticism, anger, and disgust.

“Is she here?” Remus asked, shoving his hands into his robe pockets.

“No,” Snape said flatly, “she’s in Gryffindor Tower for the night.”

Remus got the impression Snape wasn’t happy about that. He thought to ask, but waved it away— he wasn’t here to pry… _much._

Remus cleared his throat awkwardly and looked around. Several books seemed to have fallen off the bookcases that lined the fireplace, which, despite the roaring heat emanating from it, didn’t seem to make the room any warmer. Snape was radiating fury so cold that it chilled Remus to the bone.

“Well?” Snape’s face twisted with impatience, “Get on with it then— that is, if you really are here to discuss _my_ daughter.”

_My daughter._ How strange that still sounded. The words bounced off over Remus’ eardrums and made his teeth rattle.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the Boggart I had the students practice on today.” Remus said, leaning against the wall. The tension in the room seemed to weigh down on him, making it hard to stand up straight.

“I did,” Snape sent him a cracking look of hatred, “and I heard all about Longbottom’s.”

Ah. Well that explained the horrid mood, a bit, though Snape had rarely needed motivation to be nasty.

_(He didn’t regret it one bit— he’d have done it again)_

Remus chuckled, and Snape’s expression was borderline homicidal.

“Well,” He opened his palms in surrender, “you must admit, that perhaps if you were kinder to the boy—”

“His inaptitude for potions qualifies for response.” Snape sneered, “Keeping the brat in line is the only thing that keeps him from blowing up my classroom. Is _that_ the reason you’re here, or would you like to talk about the girl you claim to care so much about?”

Remus paused and stared back. Snape’s fists were clenching and unclenching themselves at his sides, a vein in his head pulsating violently. It was then that Remus realized that his demeanor had shifted— he was still angry, but there was something desperate— like he was itching to know what it was Remus had to say about Ariel.

He was… worried? Remus couldn’t recall ever seeing Snape like this, not even after the Dementors on the train…

“Ariel didn’t face her Boggart.” Remus said plainly, feeling something akin to empathy for Snape, knowing what it was like to worry, “She practically ran to the back of the room when her turn was approaching.”

Snape blinked, and then, a sudden storm darkened his features, “Did it _occur to you,_ that _perhaps,_ it would turn into the Dark Lord?”

“I did.” Remus nodded, “I considered it when I had Harry’s year… by the time it was his turn, I had realized… but it wasn’t.”

_“Why do they affect me so, Professor?”_ The boy had asked, looking small and pale.

“It was a Dementor.” Remus told him, “I believe that the incident on the train may have left him with something that cannot be cured with chocolate.”

Something flashed across Snape’s face Remus couldn't identify— it was there and gone too quickly. He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, hiding them from Remus’ sight.

Snape raised an eyebrow in response. “Is _he_ alright?”

“He’s fine – he seemed… frustrated.”

“They know,” Snape sighed heavily, “that it was their mother they heard on the train.”

Remus’ gut twisted, like a piece of shrapnel had exploded inside of it.

He’d guessed it, as he’d lay awake in his bed his first night back at Hogwarts. What could be worse than hearing your mother die, right in front of you, just before his wand had landed upon yourself? It had sent ice water shooting through his veins, and Remus had stifled the urge to mourn for his dead friends once more. He wasn’t allowed to feel sorry for himself.

“I see.” Remus said quietly.

“Is that all you wanted to discuss?” Snape said, his eyes blazing as they opened once more, “Or perhaps you wanted to strategize other ways to traumatize children?”

He swallowed the burn in his throat, “The last thing I wanted was to expose them to something that could… I didn’t think—”

“No, you _didn’t_ think!” Snape hissed.

“Your daughter acts as if the prospect of a Boggart means going up Voldemort himself!” Remus’ composure finally broke, feeling his confusion and hurt swirl inside his chest, “Tell me then, if you claim to care so much—”

_“Claim?”_ Snape rumbled, “How _dare_ you—”

“What is she so afraid of, then?” Remus demanded, “What has her cowering at the very _idea_ of facing a Boggart— not even half of what her _real_ nightmares would be?”

The murderous rage that had begun to wrap its tendrils around Remus’ neck suddenly dissipated. Snape’s composure did not loosen, nor relax, but was replaced with something else.

“She was…” He looked… troubled, “afraid?”

Remus rubbed at his eyes tiredly, Lily’s face filling his vision, “Her reaction was… concerning.”

“What happened?” That desperate tremble was returning to Snape’s hands.

“I spoke to her after class,” _Her face had spasmed in horror, and then panic,_ “I was afraid she was about to have some kind of anxiety attack. I had asked her why she’d hidden…”

_“Why_ would you ask a clearly _frightened child—”_

“How was I to have _any_ earthly idea—”

“You _don’t,_ which why I wanted you to stay the _fuck away_ from her!”

“We both want the same thing for her, Severus.” Remus said quietly, “And Harry. I want them both safe from Sir— _Black.”_ The name burned his tongue, “And I want them safe from themselves, if there’s anything—”

“There’s nothing wrong with her.” Snape’s glare nearly burned a hole in his head.

Remus raised an eyebrow, “So there’s nothing strange to you about her behavior?”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment. His knuckle banged against the desk, knocking thrice as he stared into the space between them.

“There was a… situation last term.” Snape finally said, his voice like broken glass.

Remus frowned, “What kind of situation?”

“That is for _her_ to share with you, should she wish to.”

“You’d let her, or myself, be blindsided?”

“I am not _blindsiding_ her!” Snape snarled, “I’m protecting her!”

“From what?” Remus asked, not knowing what in Merlin’s name could have _possibly_ happened—

“From _you!”_ He spat, slamming his fist down on the table.

Nothing filled the air between them except their breaths— labored panting sounding like thunder. Remus felt wearier than ever before, and in the candlelight, Snape’s face was beginning to look a bit deranged.

“Let it go, Lupin.” He said in a hard voice, chiseled from diamond, “Let me deal with her.”

_“Deal with her?”_ Remus echoed, not liking those choice in words one bit.

“As you have have so amply pointed out,” Snape said, “I am her father, and I know what she needs.”

And Remus had no choice but to believe him.

* * *

Severus set down the bottle of firewhiskey with more force than necessary.

He found himself wishing, in his alcohol induced haze, that his daughter had chosen to return to the dungeons tonight. Severus never drank when Ariel was around, _usually,_ but when she wasn’t, there was really no excuse stopping him from it. Tonight, however, he had someone other than himself to blame.

Stupid fucking werewolf. Asking questions he had no business asking— as if he knew _anything—_

_I was afraid she was going to have some kind of anxiety attack_

_He ripped back the shower curtain, and found her collapsing into herself_

Ariel hadn’t even _seen_ her Boggart, and she’d panicked. _Harry,_ on the other hand, _had,_ and yet seemed to be functioning normally, or at least, as normally as Harry Potter did. Severus had seen them at dinner—

Why hadn’t they come to him?

Had he driven them away? Well, that was easy enough to answer in regards to Ariel— his comment the other day had stung, and then, he’d practically argued his apology away. As for the boy— well, he’d never forgiven him for dropping the bombshell on his birthday, and his iron rule afterwards.

He was such an idiot.

Severus couldn’t deny that half of it had to be what they’d heard on the train. How long had it been from then that they’d figured out who the screaming woman had been? A day? Less?

_I heard a man crying like he was in pain_

He down the remnants of the glass, relishing the burn as he poured another. It was impossible. She couldn’t have heard him—

_He gave the infants one last fleeting look, his gaze landing on two identical lightning-shaped scars on both their foreheads_

Severus need to talk to them— to the both of them. Whether they would come willingly or not, was another matter entirely.

He took another swig from the cup, and looked up to the mantle for guidance.

* * *

The last thing Harry had wanted to do that night was return to the Slytherin dorms, but he knew for a fact Ariel wasn’t going to sleep in Severus’ quarters tonight, and he just didn’t feel comfortable staying if his sister wasn’t there.

Damon hadn’t shown up to dinner, but Draco had, laughing away with Crabbe and Goyle and giving Harry shifty eyes the entire time. He hadn’t spoken two words to Harry since term had started, which was really weird, and starting to worry Harry a bit, because Draco slept in the bed right beside him, and there hadn’t been a single comment about him being a Scarhead, or his sister looking like a Mudblood, or Harry fainting at the sight of Dementors or something.

As Harry trudged his way through the Slytherin common room, he finally caught sight of Damon, legs hanging over the side of an armchair in some dark corner with a book. If Harry ever tried to read a book in the dark like that, he’d have probably ruined the remaining good eyesight he had left, which wasn’t much. The mirror behind him was shattered, but there were no shards to be found. Harry frowned, wondering what had happened.

He hesitated at the entrance to the boys’ dorms, feeling his disbelief and annoyance from before come back. What, did Damon think hiding from his sister and running off with Draco was no big deal? Or perhaps he thought no one had seen him.

Bad day or not, suddenly becoming buddy-buddy with Draco Malfoy wasn’t going unchecked on Harry’s watch.

“Have fun flying?” He asked as he approached Damon, crossing his arms and trying to glare the way Severus did when he was mad.

Damon’s eyes peered over the top of his book, “What’s wrong with your eyes?”

Harry blinked, and narrowed them instead, abandoning the glare, “Are you avoiding my question?”

“I’m commenting on your eyesight, actually.”

“Fine— keep sneaking around, for all I care!” Harry snapped, “Just have the courtesy to tell my sister you don't want her help instead of leading her on a wild goose chase.”

_Now_ Damon was frowning, “I… I thought she would have realized I wanted to be alone.”

_“No,”_ Harry said loudly, “you wanted to be with _Draco.”_

_That_ seemed to get his attention, as well as the attention of the rest of the common room. Pansy Parkinson was watching them with curious eyes, along with Millicent Bulstrode and the entire Slytherin Quidditch team.

“Can we do this _privately?”_ Damon hissed, setting his book down.

Harry gestured to the boys’ dormitories, “Please, after _you.”_

Damon gave him a look and stalked forward, his robes nearly hitting Harry in the face as he followed after him. Luckily, there was no one in Harry’s rooms, and so with an audible bang, he shut the door after them and rounded on his possible traitor-friend.

Damon sighed, “I don’t expect you to understand—”

“You’re right.” Harry interrupted, “So make me.”

“Draco isn't the bad guy here.”

It took several moments for those words to register with Harry, and when they did, his jaw nearly hit the ground.

“Draco _isn’t the bad guy?”_ He echoed.

“He’s an ass, yes.” Damon rolled his eyes and shook his head, “He’s insufferable and arrogant and horrible to you, I know. But he only knows what Lucius has told him.”

“And that somehow gives him a jail out of free card?” Harry asked, unable to believe his ears.

“Of course not, I’ve always taken your side—”

“But now he deserves my _pity_ instead?”

“Yes.” Damon said seriously, “Because he can change.”

Harry couldn't help it— he burst into a fit of laughter. Like _Draco Malfoy_ was somehow a victim in all of this. Last year, he’d practically danced around the common room when he’d realized a giant monster snake was out to get Muggleborns.

“There’s nothing _funny_ about this.” Damon growled.

“Really?” Harry wheezed, “I’m having a hard time believing that.”

“He needed a reason to believe Lucius was anything but what he's been told!” Damon grabbed Harry’s arm, “You're not the only one who was scared of what was happening last year! When he found out it was his father—”

Harry froze at his words, “And how did he find _that_ out?”

Damon jutted out his chin, “I told him.”

There was no remorse or humbleness in his blue eyes— not even clarity. They seemed to reflect the dim moonlight that filtered in through the windows. Did he not see… Damon _wasn’t_ dense. Why would he… of all the things…

“Why would you do that, Damon?” Harry asked quietly.

“I told you, he needed a _reason—”_

“And my _sister_ was that reason?” He could feel his voice rising without his permission, and he didn’t try to stop it.

“He’s _sorry,_ Harry!” Damon snapped, “Once he heard what Lucius had done—”

“You’re _damn right what Lucius did!”_ Harry thundered, his hand grappling for his wand in his sleeve, “How _dare_ you, as if you have _any_ right to tell _anyone_ that it was Ariel— like he _won’t_ use it against her the second that slimy ferret gets the chance!”

“I wouldn’t have told him if I didn’t think—”

“What _were_ you thinking?” Harry snapped, “What, you share _one_ secret and now the two of you are best mates? You betray my sister, and then you go missing when all she wants to do is make sure you’re alright?”

“I didn’t—”

“What’s going on in here?” A muffled voice called through the door.

Harry cursed inwardly, sending Damon one last withering glare before jerking the door open. It was Flint, Prefect badge glimmering dully on the front of his robes.

“What’s going on here?” Flint frowned, “You two are making enough noise to bring down the castle on us. Trade places with the other Malfoy, have you Potter?”

“No,” Harry muttered, going red, “we’re done here, anyway. Sorry, Flint.”

Damon made a noise of disagreement, but Flint held up a hand, “Let’s go, Damon – back to your own dorm for the night, before Snape comes sniffing and gives all of us detention for making a ruckus.”

He flushed darker than Harry and skulked on by, giving Harry a mixed look of anger and hurt, and ducked out of the room. As soon as he was gone, Harry said goodnight to Flint and shut the down, thankful that the other boys had yet to make an appearance. He didn’t think he could stand seeing Malfoy right now.

Harry had never felt more unsure about anything in his life as he settled beneath the covers in his bed. Without a doubt, he knew that Draco couldn’t be trusted. Period. His father was a bastard that had tried to kill him and his sister, as well as other students here, and from what Ariel and Damon had told him, had once served Voldemort.

Should he tell Ariel?

Of course— he _had_ to. Harry couldn’t let Draco throw this back in her face when they were least expected. She’d be devastated— Severus might actually kill him. Harry had to keep Ariel from being hurt and Severus out of Azkaban.

But Damon knew… a _lot._ He knew as much as Ron and Hermione, and Harry told them everything. Damon was to Ariel what they were to Harry. Why would he tell Draco something that could not only betray Ariel’s trust, but damage her in the long run? What if it got out that Ariel, and then Ginny, had been the Heirs? Would they be punished? Dumbledore had said it hadn’t been their fault, but if the wrong people found out…

Maybe he should tell Severus instead.

_Why the hell would you do that?_ A voice inside his head asked, but another answered; _he’ll know what to do._ Maybe if Harry gave Severus some warning, and he decided to kill Draco, he’d dodge Azkaban _and_ get rid of the trouble. Yes— Severus seemed like the best way to handle this problem, until Harry uncovered more about Damon’s true motives— _if_ these were false. There was a chance Damon thought was what he was doing was right… could Harry blame him for that? He certainly _would_ if Ariel got hurt again. Damon hadn’t seen her that night on the bathroom floor. She was all Harry had left.

But he wasn’t all _she_ had left…

No no no— Harry couldn’t afford to think that way. He’d go mad if he did. Between his not-father and _not-_ godfather, Harry had far too much to think about than start getting paranoid about it all. Yes, Severus would know exactly what to do.

Harry stifled the urge to groan as he heard the door creak open. Someone shuffled around for several minutes, and it took all Harry had not to sit up and see who it was. His curiosity was short lived, however, when he heard someone climb into the bed next to him silently.

“Potter?” Malfoy’s voice croaked.

That was it. Harry shot up like a bullet and grabbed his wand, throwing a Stinging Hex at the bed. Malfoy let out a yelp and dove out of the way.

“For fuck’s sake, Potter!” He yelled, “I’m just trying to talk!”

“Stay away,” Harry hissed, “from _my sister.”_

“The hell are you— I’m not doing anything to Princess Potter—”

“Oh, stuff it, you snot nosed little—”

“OY!” Flint was pounding on the door again, “I told you to keep it down, Potter!”

Harry glared at Malfoy, which seemed to shut him up. He quietly crawled back into bed, grey eyes warily watching Harry as he did so, before turning on his side, away from him.

And even though Harry didn’t trust him for a second, he couldn’t help but wonder what it was Malfoy had wanted to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Please review!


	60. Whispers in the Dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I literally don’t know how to write anything other than people arguing, if you’re wondering why everyone seems to be at each others throat.
> 
> In all seriousness, things are going to be tense up until Ch. 68 and everything dies down. So… 8 more chapters, and then good things (?) start happening. It’s not the end of PoA, but… you’ll see what I mean…

Early the following morning Severus rose, though it was nothing out of the ordinary for him. He’d learned to rise at ungodly hours as a child in order to avoid his father and mother in the morning, before going to find Lily. He realized, with a sigh, that perhaps this was some kind of generational curse— one that was inadvertently unleashed upon himself, and on his daughter.

Severus wondered, and felt something inside his chest burn, as he recalled the conversation he’d had with Lupin yesterday. He paused reaching for the pot of coffee that appeared, pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing deeply. Moron — the werewolf was a fucking _idiot._

_How had he figured out the truth so quickly how—_

Why hadn’t Ariel come to him? Why hadn’t the boy? Surely they both had questions, Harry more so, seeing as he’d braced himself and faced his Boggart. Had he gone to Lupin and asked him instead? Had Lupin answered his questions, and spun tales of his father and his reign of terror during Severus’ days as a student?

The burn inside his chest was almost unbearable now.

He should have taken the girl to Siberia when the Dark Lord had invaded the school. He should have gone after her the other day, when Ariel had told him the woman in her memory was her mother, but with Black and Lupin — Lupin _inside_ of the school and holding his most precious secret with him like it was that battered suitcase he’d waltzed in with — Severus’ mind was scattered and far from where it usually was.

It was no excuse, though. Severus had the sodding werewolf handled, for now at least, and Black hadn’t been sighted in days. He had to speak to Ariel and Harry later, drag them both down here, by hook or by crook, if need be. Merlin knew that if Ariel didn’t want to be found, she could stay hidden for a good amount of time, but Severus knew the castle better. The boy would be easier to locate, seeing as Severus could easily have Flint bring him in from the dormitory.

He was able to unclench his hand from the mug just as Severus heard a knock on the door. It was too early for human interaction. If it was Lupin again, Severus swore under his breath, he was going to do to him what he’d done to Lockhart when Ariel had been sick.

But it wasn’t, he soon found, as he jerked open the door.

Severus blinked down at the green-eyed boy panting up at him. He frowned—  Harry had _willing_ come? Severus half expected having to pounce on one of them tonight after dinner, with or without the damn werewolf watching his every move.

He wouldn’t thank the cosmos now— they’d screwed him over one time too many.

“Harry,” Severus greeted cautiously, “what are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you about something.” The boy said, standing up a little straighter, as if he were trying to convince Severus that he meant that. It only confused him further. Had he not looked as though he’d just run a marathon, Severus would have assumed he’d come looking for his sister.

Or that he was… _up to something._

His suspicion piquing, Severus inclined his head and opened the door wider so that Harry could enter. The boy stared at him for a moment, no emotion in particular in his face, before entering. He motioned to the chairs in front of his desk, as he usually did when Lily’s children came knocking, or barging in, but Harry shook his head and stayed standing.

A look of uncertainty passed over the boy’s face as Severus waited for him to speak.

“I want you to tell me about the Malfoys.” He said finally, steely decisiveness in his usually quiet voice.

Severus’ eyebrows hit his forehead as he leaned back in his desk chair.

“You know them well, don't you?” Harry asked, now with a hint of desperation.

“I do,” Severus tilted his head, “but first, you will tell me why you want to know.”

“Only if you answer a question first.”

Severus could already feel his blood pressure rising. The sun rising outside, from the Charmed windows hurt his eyes. Harry was looking at him evenly, though there was anger in his face that Severus hadn’t seen in a long time— not since he’d shouted at Ariel the night she’d broken free of the Dark Lord

“What is this about?” Severus leaned forward and clasped his hands together tightly, “Draco? You two seemed to be… rather tame, compared to years past. It’s been days, and no Hexes have been thrown.”

Harry looked away, “He’s… I don’t know.”

He was troubled— that much was certain. Something was bothering the boy, but what the _Malfoys_ had to do with it, Severus hadn’t a clue. He had been sure the Dementors would still be on his mind… after what Lupin had told him…

He’d give the boy this… for now. He was, after all, the elder Slytherin. He wasn't about to Potter’d out of his own game.

“Ask your question, then.” Severus sighed, causing Harry to jerk back to attention. His green eyes lightened.

Harry took a deep breath, “What did you do to Lucius the day Tom took us into the Chamber?”

The question slammed right into him, taking Severus off guard, though his face did not show it. He stayed composed as his mind pushed forward, trying to guess what the boy was getting at. Why would he need to know _that?_

“That,” Severus said in a dangerous voice, “is a matter between myself and Lucius Malfoy.”

“You threatened him, didn’t you?” Harry asked directly, green eyes shining, “To make sure he wouldn’t hurt Ariel again?”

“Or you.” He said, before he could stop himself.

His muscles were contracting without his consent at the boy’s questions, and of the memory that day on the rock. The way the spell had fallen so easily from his tongue even though his mind had been somewhere so far away and cold, a layer above where his heart lay.

Harry’s face reddened, and his eyes lowered themselves to his feet, “Damon thinks… well, he said that…”

Severus’ lip curled. The boy paused.

“You still don’t like him.” Harry frowned at that.

“I don’t.” Severus agreed, unashamed.

“Why?” He looked annoyed by this, “He’s Ariel best friend — he’s one of the only _I’ve_ got in Slytherin.”

“His mother is a raving lunatic.” He told him, very matter-of-factly, “She’s a danger to both you _and_ your sister either way, but if she were to find out that her darling heir is out making friendship bracelets with the two of you—”

“Lucius is free,” Harry interrupted, “and you’re telling me to be friends with _his_ son.”

“I’m not telling you to be friends with anyone.” Severus said coolly, “Lucius is a different breed entirely from Bellatrix.”

“You could have fooled me.” The boy muttered.

“Lucius has boundaries.” He said, trying to soften his voice, “Bellatrix does not. She would gladly have sacrificed her son if the Dark Lord had wanted it so. She almost did. Lucius, however, would never do such a thing.”

“Damon’s not that way!” Harry argued.

“And Draco is?” Severus raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

The boy was squirming where he stood, now. “I think he’s more like Lucius than Damon is like Bellatrix. Damon’s Boggart was his _mum,_ for Merlin’s sake.”

Severus nearly fell out of his chair, “Excuse me?”

“You didn’t hear?” Harry looked surprise, “All of Slytherin’s been talking about it!”

The werewolf certainly hadn’t mentioned _that._ Usually, Severus didn’t fraternize in the gossip of his House, but he was quite certain that he would have heard _that_ by now. His mind couldn’t have been _this_ preoccupied… but with Lily’s children being attacked by Dementors and Boggarts and Black on the loose—

_(Why hadn’t Ariel come to talk to him about it?)_

She would have seen, hiding from her Boggart or not. As the boy had _so_ clearly pointed out, Damon Malfoy was her closest and dearest friend. That would have concerned her, bothered her… she would have sought her father out, surely…

Something hot and sharp pierced his jugular.

“No,” Severus cleared his throat, “I did not.”

“Well, then, I think that it says a lot about Damon.” Harry crossed his arms, seemingly in triumph, “If Bellatrix is his biggest fear, then he _isn’t_ like her, right? But Draco—”

“Then tell me,” Severus said, a big smugly, “what _do_ you know about Draco Malfoy?”

“That he’s a prat.” Harry said automatically.

He stifled the urge to roll his eyes, _“Besides_ that, Mr Potter.”

Harry’s mouth opened and closed several times before his eyes narrowed, “Are you saying that underneath all of Pureblood crap, there’s a bright and shiny surface?”

That was how the girl looked at him, sometimes.

“No,” Severus pursed his lips, “but there is something more to Draco than meets the eye, as there is to every Slytherin.”

“What is it?” The boy asked. His fingernails were digging into the chair, and there was a very serious edge to his young face. It was as though he wanted to know some great secret, like Draco was a priceless treasure locked away in a box, and he wanted the key.

“I wouldn’t know.” He told him, “That is, I suppose, something you will have to find out yourself, should you pursue it.”

Harry fell back into his chair with an audible sigh of dejection. His mother’s eyes went to the floor. Severus studied him closely. Where was all of this coming from? Had Draco reached out to him? Why wasn’t the boy being outright with him?

“Hypothetically,” Harry said quietly, after a long moment of silence, “if Draco had a reason to stop believing whatever Lucius had told him, about Voldemort and Death Eaters and all that, do you think I should try?”

“And, hypothetically, what reason would that be?” Severus asked, trying to beckon the answer forward with the force of his stare.

Before Harry could answer, there was a knock at the door. Severus cursed under his breath, earning himself a wide-eyed look from the boy, who finally fell into one of the chairs beside the desk. Severus stood and stalked over to the door, ready to smite whoever it was. It was _too early_ for anyone else.

Fate really did hate him. It was Lupin, standing there with that infuriating half smile that made Severus was to drive his wand through his eye socket.

“Good morning, Severus.” The wolf greeted, giving a slight bow of his head, “I assume at this hour, you have time for a quick chat?”

He couldn’t endure a year of this. Severus would kill himself, or the werewolf, presumably the latter, if he had to keep putting up with Lupin like this.

“What is it?” He ground out, in no mood to entertain Lupin’s politeness.

“Hi, Professor Lupin!” Harry called from behind him, and Severus cringed. They were already on friendly terms? Fuck.

“Harry?” Lupin look confused, and then, he looked past Severus’ shoulder to the boy, “What are you doing here this early?”

“I was asking Professor Snape something.” He could hear an indifference in Harry’s voice, one that hadn’t always been there, as if… as though…

“Ah,” Lupin smiled as Severus’ patience waned, “well, Professor Dumbledore has said that the earlier hours of the morning are the best time for thinking.”

His knuckle made an audible _crack_ as it strained against the doorknob his hand was wrapped around. Lupin’s grey eyes flickered to it, and then back to Severus’ face, which was glaring viciously back at him.

“If this is a bad time,” Lupin took a step back, “I can come back later—”

“Oh, no, that’s alright,” Harry was suddenly beside him— Severus wanted to scream at him to get back in the chair, because he wasn’t done with him, “we were just finishing up. I have to figure out how to open Hagrid’s textbook before his class today, anyway.”

“Stroke the binding.” Lupin suggested, “I overheard some Ravenclaws discussing it before class yesterday.”

Harry grinned up at him, “I’ll be sure to try it.” He looked up at Severus, whose voice was being strangled somewhere in the back of his throat, “I’ll see you later, Severus.”

He started down the corridor, robes flapping after him. They were still too large for his thin frame, though they reminded him more of Potter than a neglected child found under a cupboard. Something foreign panged inside Severus, wanting to go after him, to finish the conversation, to know what that foolish, reckless boy was getting himself into this time.

Lupin’s eyebrows hit his forehead, “You let him call you that?”

Severus slammed the door in his face.

* * *

Ariel was in a considerably horrid mood that morning.

She had laid in bed all night and wondered about Lupin, who was on her mind constantly since they’d last spoken. Ariel supposed that she probably go and apologize to him for acting like a lunatic when he’d seemingly just wanted to make sure she was okay, but then again, that seemed like a weird thing to do in itself. Maybe Ariel should go back and face the Boggart— maybe hers would be a Dementor, like her brother. Maybe it didn’t _have_ to be Tom. He was gone, a whisper in the back of her mind. The only thing he’d left behind was that empty space in her head he’d inhabited that Ariel didn’t know what to do with yet.

Or perhaps it was because she didn’t know _how_ to talk to Lupin. She had no clue what she would say— what excuse she could give him— for just dropping in. Did he want to get to know her and Harry like she wanted to get to know him? Was he just here until Black was found? What did he think of Severus? Did he hate him as much as her father hated him?

Would he talk about her mum if she asked? James?

Ariel walked down to breakfast to Ron, who seemed to be in just about a bad mood as her. He and Hermione were arguing, apparently, over the validity of Transfiguration. She knew for a fact Ron thought it was all rubbish, but the idea of Hermione not being able to learn something in a book seemed too good for him to pass up.

Harry was sitting next to Hermione at the Gryffindor table when Ariel and Ron walked in. He didn’t look up as she sat, which she was partly glad for, because this morning, she really, _really_ didn’t feel like acting pleasant. She didn’t know how she was going to survive classes without Damon—

who had been flying around with Draco

— and ignoring her.

Fuck.

Ariel wanted to suffocate herself with a napkin, now.

Ron was telling Harry and Hermione about how Scabbers had been acting strangely lately – more active, apparently – with far too much enthusiasm for her taste as she buried her face in her hands and tried to rub the frustration out of her face. How was she going to make it through the day without spontaneously combusting? She wouldn’t be able to see Harry until after dinner, and even then, Ariel had to put up with Damon being weird— she hadn’t even had a chance to _talk_ to him about what the hell was going on with him yet.

Ron turned to Harry once he was done with his Scabbers-update, “Did Malfoy give you any trouble?”

“Er, kind of.” Ariel could feel her brother looking straight at her now, and she glanced up.

“What did he do?” She asked, the last of her control wobbling on the edge. She was going to scream.

“It wasn’t so much _him,”_ Harry said slowly, “it was… Damon. We talked.”

“About what?” Ariel demanded.

“About Draco.” He answered, eyes flitting to their right to make sure no one was eavesdropping next to them, “He said… that he’s not… so bad.”

Ron snorted at that. Hermione jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow, looking curious.

“Why the hell would he think that?” Ron peeked over Harry’s shoulder to glare at the Slytherin table. Ariel didn’t dare even try.

“Because…” Harry was looking back at Ariel again, “Because he… well, Damon told Draco something… and apparently, Draco felt bad… but I don’t know—”

A horrible feeling of dread landed upon her shoulders.

“What did he tell him, Harry?” She asked tonelessly, her voice lost somewhere in the space between them.

“He might have told him you were the one who opened the Chamber last year.” Harry winced.

Ariel felt her lips go bloodless.

“He did _what?”_ Ron snarled, standing up, “Where does he get off—”

“Sit down, Ron!” Hermione grabbed his robe sleeve.

Ariel’s mind was racing a million miles a second. The voices around her muted, like somewhere had put cotton swabs in her ears. The light filtering through the windows was suddenly too bright, her chest too heavy, though something was forcing it’s way back up her throat.

Damon knew… he knew too much… he had—

“Why isn’t she moving?” She heard Ron whisper to Hermione.

“Excuse me.” Ariel said, dropping her fork with a clatter. 

She willed her hands not to shatter as they shook beneath the table, not hearing the questions Harry was asking with her eyes, because Damon had betrayed her, because her best friend had done what her father had said— he’d been _right—_

Ariel marched over to the Slytherin table, where Damon was sitting apart from Draco and his cronies, his nose stuck in a book. She knew for a fact he could sense _and_ see her coming for him, but he made no moves until she grabbed the back of his robes and began to haul him out of the Great Hall. Damon let out a startled _“hey!”_ but came without much of a fight. Ariel didn’t dare look at the High Table to see what the professors looked like. The Slytherins looked like they wanted to bite her head off.

Damon had started saying her name as they’d crossed over the threshold of the castle. Ariel didn’t think the dungeons were a good place to talk, secrets spots or not, her father was bound to come sniffing sooner or later, and the last thing Ariel needed was him overhearing _this_ conversation.

She came to a halt around the far left side of the castle, finally letting go of him. All the blood came rushing back to her knuckles. She’d been clutching his clothes so tightly that her hands had gone numb.

“Merlin’s balls,” Damon panted, smoothing out his robes, “what’s got—”

“Who the _hell_ do you think you are?” Ariel yelled, shoving him hard, “Where do you get off telling your little shit of a cousin _anything_ about me?”

Damon tripped back, but regained his balance and cringed, “Harry told you?”

“Of course Harry told me!” She shouted. She couldn't think straight. Gods if he… if her _father—_

“It’s not what you think.” Damon said in an infuriating calm voice, like somehow _she_ was the one gone wild here, “Draco feels… he feels terrible about what happened!”

 _“Terrible?”_ She barked a laugh, “He probably set off fireworks the second Lucius told him!”

“Lucius _didn’t,_ that’s what I’m _saying!_ My aunt—”

“DON’T LIE TO ME!” Ariel near-shrieked in an attempt to keep herself to cry. She wouldn’t lower herself to that— not with him, and not now.

His face went white, and then, he clenched his jaw. His blue eyes went as dark as the ocean in the middle of a hurricane.

“That’s the kind of person you think I am?” Damon asked in a very, very quiet voice.

“I don't know,” Ariel held her chin high, “is it?”

“I’m not doing this.” He shoved back at her.

Oh no— he wasn't getting away _that_ easy—

Ariel grabbed his arm, jerking him to a short halt. Damon nearly tumbled over, but caught himself and rounded on her. His face had gone taut, like the bones in his face were trying to pop out.

“My father,” Her voice trembled, and she hated it, “is not some escape hole for your rat of a cousin. Don't you understand? You said— you _refused_ to tell me what he did to Lucius after the Chamber— and if Voldemort comes back, and he doesn't believe my dad, he's _dead._ How _could_ you—”

“I said I _didn't_ betray your trust.” Damon tore his arm away, giving her a look, “I told Draco what Lucius did to you and Harry. That’s _it._ I would never—”

“How do I _know,_ Damon?” Ariel threw her hands up in exasperation, “How do you know everything you tell him isn't going directly back to your bloody uncle?”

“Because I _know_ Draco a whole lot better than you and your brother do, and I _trust_ him!”

 _“Why?”_ She cried, her voice hoarse with desperation, “What changed? Are you telling me that Draco’s seen the light or something?”

He hesitated, “Not… exactly.”

Ariel groaned, leaning her forehead against the rough stone of the castle walls. She wanted to bash her head into it.

“If you can see that Lucius isn’t what he thinks,” Damon went on, “then maybe—”

_“Maybe.”_

“Yes, maybe!” He snapped, “If you and Harry don’t give him a chance, then there won’t be a point!”

“So everything I’ve told you is just out on the table until Draco decides if he wants it or not?” Ariel couldn’t believe her ears, “You _told him_ I was the Heir of Slytherin!”

“I told him the Dark Lord is!” Damon shouted back, “Because he _was!”_

“As if Draco would care enough to make the difference!” She spat.

“He _can,_ thank you very much! He’s not some emotionless lump! He’s a person, who has feelings, just like you or me, and — get this! — a set of _morals!_ Hard to believe that in a Slytherin, isn’t it?”

“Don’t you go there with me, Damon.” Ariel said in a dangerous voice, “My dad, who you can get _killed_ if you tell Draco anymore secrets, and my brother, are ten times the Slytherin Draco is. I thought you were too.”

“For the _hundredth sodding time,”_ He shouted, _“I didn’t tell Draco about Snape being your dad!”_

“Lower your voice!” She hissed back.

“When did we stop being friends?” Damon snapped, “Was it what happened with Riddle? Because with all of the fingers you point at me, you don't seem to tell me much either.”

“What the hell are you _talking_ about?” Ariel looked around, bewildered, “Don’t turn this around on _me!_ If Draco tells someone—”

“He _won’t.”_ He forced through gritted teeth. She couldn’t recall ever seeing him so mad, though it barely registered with her. Her vision was beginning to blur a bit around the edges.

“Save your breath.” Ariel sneered, trying to hold back the stinging in her eyes, “You should have asked me, Damon.”

“Yeah, sure, I could have just _Owled_ you—”

“Gods, Damon, _stop!”_ Her voice broke, “Just _stop!_ If you wanted us to give Draco a chance, you should have waited until you saw us and _asked!_ If this gets out, my father and Dumbledore…”

“I would never jeopardize your safety.” Damon seemed to back off, but his voice was still dead-serious, “If you think I’m lying…”

“You know my biggest secret!” Her throat burned, like acid was being forced down it, “You know… _Harry_ doesn't even know! My dad thinks no one except us, Dumbledore… Merlin, Damon! What if this got out and Harry heard? I’ve got to tell him at _some_ point and this _isn’t_ how I want it to happen!”

“You’ve been thinking about telling Harry?” Damon’s eyes narrowed. “Did you forget to tell me that too?”

“Yeah, right after you ran away from your mummy in class!” Ariel snapped. She regretted the words the second they flew from her mouth, her eyes widening, horrified with herself.

His face turned the color of chalk. Damon’s labored breathing turned heavier, until, it seemed like he wasn’t breathing at all. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, and when they opened, they were cold, and distant, and not the boy she’d known for the past four years.

Her heart crumbled inside of her chest

“Damon—” She grabbed his hand, which he ripped from her grip, “Damon, _wait,_ I’m sorry! I didn’t mean that—”

Damon shoved past her— _really_ shoved, this time— and broke for the castle entrance. Ariel tried to follow, but her legs failed her. They stayed frozen in place, until they gave out.

When she was able to stand, she broke for her rock.

* * *

Ariel felt as if she were alone in the middle of some vast ocean, all by herself, without no one around to hear her.

She’d skipped all her classes, unable to go and face Damon after their argument. She’d heard someone rustling in the trees behind her at one point, and had heard Harry, Ron, and Hermione whispering among themselves until her brother had finally come and sat with her. They hadn’t spoken, but he’d stayed until he had Care of Magical Creatures. Ariel hoped Draco got trampled by a Hippogriff or something— she’d seen Hagrid corralling a small herd of them yesterday.

Severus was going to murder her if and when he found out she’d been sitting here all day. Ariel didn’t really care— she felt like she was crumbling under the weight of everything. Her father’s anger her would only be one more thing, and really, what was it after everything? If she got lucky, he’d lock her up in the dungeons, and then, she’d have a reason to avoid Damon.

She Hexed tree until they were black and singed, feeling pity on them when a tiny fire had ignited on one. Ariel had quickly doused it, and had then spent the better part of the next hour pondering whether or not running to the river, which was somewhere nearby, to blow off steam, would be worth it. She’d decided against it— if her father came looking and found her absent from her rock and running through the Forest, he’d _really_ have her head this time.

After Ariel had calmed down, her guilt had come creeping in. She couldn’t believe herself— she’d wanted to vomit. They very thing she’d been _so_ worried about, Ariel had thrown right back in Damon’s face. What kind of friend was she? It was obvious that Damon was concerned for Draco, whatever his reasons were. Her head hadn’t been where it needed to be. She’d been selfish, and had thrown all her fear and uncertainty and anger about everything right into the very person she needed most.

Damon would never forgive her for this, and that thought scared Ariel beyond all belief.

It reminded her of the day Severus had told her about James and Lily. Then, Ariel hadn’t been able to escape to her rock, and had resorted to walking the corridors aimlessly. The advantage to _that_ had been that no one could pinpoint her to one location, unlike her, but her body felt sore. It hurt to move.

 _I heard him that night… heard him yelling for hours. It sounded like what one might imagine Hell to sound like, if such a place exists,_ Ariel recalled Nick saying, the final nail in the proverbial coffin.

Her heart skipped a beat.

_A man howling, crying, the sound of sheer agony, like one’s soul being ripped from their body…_

She went very still.

“Ariel?” The same voice called from behind her.

She didn't turn, but she did cringe— the last person she wanted to see— oh gods—

His hand gripped her shoulder, almost painfully hard.

She was going to be sick.

“Ariel?” Her father called in a much softer voice.

Was her demeanor that telling? He hadn't seen her face— she could only imagine what _that_ looked like— but perhaps her silence had given it away. She couldn't talk about this, not now, not ever, it _hurt_ to think about it. Her heart felt like someone had wrapped a wire around it and squeezed, and then dropped it into a pot of boiling water.

She could tell her was about the say her name again, and if he did that, Ariel was quite sure the last of her composure was going to slip away. She gave her father what he wanted and peeked up at him from over her shoulder.

His face was hard, as though it’d been chiseled from the very rock they were standing on.

“I figured out who the man was in my memory.” Ariel murmured, feeling her words vibrate beneath the deepest recesses of her heart.

She felt the air behind her curdle as she turned back to look across the chasm. It would be a miracle if the hand on her shoulder didn't leave bruises.

Ah— well, there was the confirmation.

(Something inside her roiled and clawed away)

She could have sworn she felt a tremor in his hand— might’ve turned to look at him, only something big and black was coming straight for her and she didn't know how to stop it—

That same thing that was etched in the echoes of the man howling after her mother had been murdered.

Ariel turned back around. Severus wasn't looking at her, but across the expanse her eyes had just tried to escape into. His face had gone a shade one would normally associate with death, his eyes like black marbles. Not even the late afternoon sun seemed to reflect off of them. His expression was far away, someone Ariel couldn't follow— somewhere she didn't ever think she could, ever, really.

So, she had to bring him back, Ariel thought to herself with a sigh.

“Dad?” She bit her lip and tried to stand, but his hand seemed to be holding her down.

Her father blinked several times, his jaw growing more and more rigid as the rest of his body seemed to defrost. Ariel found herself leaning away, not knowing what version of Severus was going to come flying back at her.

That great black thing inside her began to whisper.

Her father was staring down at her now, something akin to emotion returning to his coal eyes. Ariel stared back, willing her hands not to shake, or for her to run, because that was what the thing inside of her wanted her to do, _badly._

The grip on her shoulder lessened, and she straightened, looking back at him evenly— or at least evenly as she could.

It still didn't seem to fully register within her, and her father’s silence was only making things all the more confusing. Granted, perhaps one, _especially_ Severus, didn't talk about _crying,_ something Ariel knew for a fact he _loathed,_ especially when she did it, but he wasn't _denying_ it either. Would he be mad? That seemed a very likely possibility— but why had he been there that night at all? Had he _known_ Voldemort was coming?

 _No no no,_ Ariel shoved that thought away— no thoughts of Death Eaters— her father wasn’t— he _wasn’t—_

It made sense, in that part of Ariel’s mind that continued to function as the blackness tried to invade the space Tom had once inhabited. Her worst memory to be of her mother’s death, to hear her father mourning her…it had been just like how Nick had told her…

Ariel did the only thing she could think of that would help herself, and maybe Severus in that moment, and leaned heavily against his chest, the sun beating down on her cloaked back.

Unlike in times past, her father did not stiffen, but his arms coiled around Ariel and held her there securely. He’d learned, had _become,_ more open with her like this, since the Chamber, though it still surprised her. He felt like a human skeleton— if Ariel didn't witness it herself, she might’ve thought he never ate. He smelt like old books.

The thing that spoke like Tom quieted and melted away.

Ariel, who no longer felt like she was stranded in some barren wilderness, felt the dam building within her chest burst. Her eyes began to tear, and she silently wept into her father’s robes, which had surrounded her like a canopy.

It made sense, Ariel thought, as she let her worries stain the fabric. Her worst memory, something that would render her helpless in the presence of something that fed off of her misery, to be of all of those she held dear— and feared, deep down. Ariel didn’t fear Voldemort, the face on the back of Quirrell’s head, and she had _thought_ she’d overcome Tom, but he still floated in and out of her nightmares. He had been there, along with her mother and James, dead, her brother, a victim as much as Ariel had been, and her father, who had howled and mourned for her mum…

She had really underestimated just how much he had cared about Lily, if he’d sounded like _that._

Ariel heard him sigh, finally, a sign that his demeanor had defrosted. A hand began to thread its way through her hair with more force than usual, but it felt good. It seemed to ground her. Her chest felt like it was slowly losing a buildup of pressure.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ariel sniffled, even though she already knew the answer. She had to ask.

“I wasn’t certain myself,” She felt the deep baritone of his voice vibrate inside her head, “and even if I was, I didn’t want you to carry that around with you.”

“You were there.” Ariel said.

“I was.” It was a confession.

Ariel closed her eyes.

“Why are you out here?” Her father asked, and she could tell very easily that it was taking a large amount of self control for him not to sound angry. She could only imagine his reaction when McGonagall had told him she’d gone AWOL.

She shrugged against him, and the hand in her hair tightened.

“Ariel…” Severus exhaled loudly, “Oh, child, what I wouldn’t give to know what’s going through that mind of yours.”

“It wouldn’t be worth it.” Ariel whispered, and at that, his hand jerked her chin up roughly.

His face was worn, and tired, and rolling like a roar of thunder.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Severus said in a hard voice, like shrapnel wrapped in cloth.

Ariel hung her head in shame, “A lot’s been happening lately.”

“And you haven’t come to me.” The gentleness in his voice was so false, it was unlike him. It occurred to Ariel, suddenly, that she’d _hurt his feelings,_ and this was how he was choosing to convey it.

Well, it seemed she was hurting everyone today. Maybe she’d push Harry in a vat of toxic waste before dinnertime.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Ariel was biting her lip so hard that she tasted blood, “With everything that happened last year…”

“So you thought waiting for _Lupin_ to come and tell me about your little incident in Defense—”

She felt the color drain from her face for the second time that day, “H-he told you?”

“Did you not want me to know?” His nostrils flared, and thunder cracked across his face.

Ariel tore away from him, a gust of cold wind chasing away all of the warmth that had just surrounded her.

No— she hadn’t wanted Severus to know, because quite truthfully, Ariel was ashamed. She was supposed to be the brave one, and here she was, cowering in front of a _Boggart,_ something that could be chased away so easily. Her mother hadn’t hidden when Voldemort had tried to kill her and Harry— her father hadn’t run when her mum had been targeted and he’d switched sides for her sake—

Ariel fell at the edge of the rock, wishing the chasm would open up and swallow her whole.

Her father was standing directly behind her now. She could feel his robes brushing against her back, but even then, Ariel knew he was there, because she could feel his eyes burning a hole into her skull. Why couldn’t he just leave, or make her come inside, or do whatever it was he wanted her to do? Between his voice rattling around in her head, echoes of Tom, her own voice screaming at Damon…

“I was afraid it would turn into Tom.” Ariel said, the tears rolling down her cheeks burned, “That’s why I didn’t want to face it, and that’s why I didn’t say anything. I just… I want to forget about him, alright? I don’t want to see him again, and I sure as hell didn’t want to do it in front of a million sodding people.”

She heard his boots crunching against the dead leaves, and then—

“You don't have to—” Ariel began.

Her father made a sound that was a near growl as he settled down next to her.

“You hate this rock.” She pointed out, wiping away at her tears.

“No,” Severus paused, “I hate that there is a psychotic madman on the lose and you’re out frolicking amongst the foliage.”

“I’m not frolicking. I’m brooding.”

He snorted, running a hand through her hair, “I’m opposed to both.”

“This is my thinking spot.” Ariel said quietly, “I’d go mad without it.”

Her father made an agreeing sound. She watched his eyes flicker to the scorch marks on the trees, deep slashes indented in the wood.

“I did that after you told me about you and mum.” She grinned sheepishly, “I think I accidentally Hexed a squirrel too.”

Severus raised an eyebrow, “Should I be concerned for the wildlife instead, then?”

“Only the squirrels.” Ariel said, finally leaning her head against his shoulder.

They fell into companionable silence, then. If she wasn’t in such a miserable mood, Ariel would have found the sight rather funny. She could only imagine a student stumbling upon Professor Snape sitting atop a rock surrounded by multicolored leaves, Ariel curled up next to him.

“Your brother came to see me before,” When she looked up at the sound of his voice, his eyes were studying her with that uncomfortable intensity they held when he was trying to see if she would lie or not, “about Draco Malfoy.”

Ariel tensed, “What about him?”

“It seems that he’s questioning his allegiances.” Severus quirked an eyebrow, “Would you happen to know anything about it?”

“Damon mentioned it.” Her voice thickened, and she turned away to hide her face.

“Ah,” His tone was pleased, “that’s where his whip came from, then.” There was a strong hand on her shoulder, “Am I correct in assuming that you didn’t react well?”

Well, _that_ was the understatement of the century.

“We had a really big argument.” Ariel said quietly, her bottom lip trembling. She took a shuddering breath and drew her knees to her chest.

“About Draco?” The pad of his thumb wiped away her tears.

She nodded, trying to steady her breathing, “He’s never going to forgive me.”

Severus frowned, “And why is that?”

“I said something terrible to him.” Ariel whispered.

He shook his head, but to her surprise, his lips turned up at the corners, “You’ve always had a horrid temper. I always suspected it was your mothers… but you can be very contemptuous when you want to be. I suppose you get that from me.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” She mumbled into the crook of her arm.

Severus ignored her, “He’ll forgive you, Ariel. I wouldn’t worry. You two have never been at odds before, and it’s going to take more than one squabble to end your friendship.”

“Not after what I said.” Ariel said miserably.

“If that boy doesn’t forgive you, Ariel, he is an incredibly stupid one.”

She couldn’t help it— she snorted. Sitting back up on her haunches, Ariel looked up her father, who was staring back down at her with a guarded look.

“Sometimes, I think I’m always the stupid one.” Ariel said quietly.

“No,” Severus said gently, wrapping an arm around her middle, “you’re the lion among the snakes.”

“Do you think that’s a bad thing?”

Her father’s eyes shimmered, like a mirage.

“No,” He said, “it is a very good thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Keep an eye out for the next chapter, which I’ll be posting later on today. Please review!


	61. Unknown Intentions

Lurking wasn’t what Sirius wanted to call it, but it was in fact was he was doing one Saturday in late September.

When he got over how that made him feel like he was some kind of pedophile, Sirius trotted along the outskirts of the Quidditch pitch and took his place on the usual bench. The kids never saw him from his spot, and for that, he was glad. Sirius didn’t think he’d be able to help himself if Harry came up to him again. Whether those were his dog instincts, or something within himself— he didn’t know. Quite honestly, he didn’t _care_ about anything other than making sure James’ son and daughter were safe.

Sirius hadn’t once seen Ariel, and he’d begun to wonder if she even attended the goddamn school. He’d expected her to come flying, just like Harry did. James’ son came out nearly every day, whether it be with the Slytherin team, or a redheaded kid Sirius didn’t recognize.

Harry smiled and laughed— he _looked_ happy. Sometimes, Sirius saw him arguing, with a dark haired boy, and a pale blonde one. He would have bet both his kidneys that the blonde was Lucius’ kid, but the other, Sirius could never get a good enough look at. It wasn’t anything like the rows Snivellus and James would have, but it was clear there was animosity there, confirming Sirius’ prior beliefs that Harry _couldn’t_ have been placed in Slytherin without there being some kind of mistake.

Today, Harry was here with his team again. Sirius loved watching him fly, but couldn't stand the flashes of green whizzing about. If only it wasn’t the Slytherin team. Sirius let out a huff, his head setting onto his paws. It shouldn’t bother him— he knew that. When Reg had been Sorted there, Sirius had rolled his eyes, because of _course_ the Better Son would be a Slytherin, unlike him, who his mother loathed and probably wished she’d gotten rid of with a potion. But he hadn’t _hated_ Reg— not until he’d gone off and joined the fucking Death Eater brigade and gotten himself killed.

Harry though— his godson was different.

(Could there be mistakes with Sorting?)

Well, he’d deal with that when he dealt with Snivellus.

The way this kid could _fly._ Shit, if James could see Harry, he’d have nearly exploded with pride. Sirius recalled how he’d used to lift Harry high and swoop him around as a baby, telling him tales of his Chaser days and how one day, Harry would zoom through the air, just like he had. Sirius had kept an eye out for the Gryffindor team, and either Ariel wasn’t on it, or she never showed up to the practices. The latter didn’t seem very likely, seeing as McGonagall would have skewered her for skipping. James had once, and he’d gotten detention for a week.

But now James was dead, and so was Lily, and Remus had presumably holed himself up somewhere, Sirius thought, with a pang of guilt. Moony was all alone… wherever he was. Maybe, when Sirius finally got Ariel and Harry, he’d go looking for him. He’d help— Sirius was sure of it— once he told him the truth. Maybe.

Maybe Lucius had just been trying to get a rise out of him the day he’d told Sirius about Snivellus. What if he had lied, and Dumbledore hadn’t done such a fucking stupid thing? There wasn’t anything Sirius could do about it _now—_ shit, he’d take the Forest over Azkaban any day— and convicted felon or not, he still had a responsibility to look out for these kids. He wondered if Remus had tried to get custody. The Ministry would have given him hell for that— if Sirius had been with him, they’d have gotten it in a heartbeat, but a werewolf with two kids, in wizarding Britain’s eyes, was the equivalent of letting a puppy loose near a centaur.

The idea of Snivellus adopting Ariel sounded more and more ridiculous the more Sirius pondered it. No— Lucius had most definitely been lying. Now that he was free of the Dementor’s influence and Bellatrix’s ramblings, he could see that.

Harry had been somewhere up in the fog for several minutes now, half the Slytherin team on the ground, talking about something. The blonde kid that looked like Lucius was talking to the dark haired boy Harry had snapped at the other day. The captain— or at least Sirius assumed he was captain because of how much he was talking— was looking upwards. The wind was beginning to pick up. It seemed like a storm was brewing in the distance.

Sirius had been venturing closer to the school as the weather got cooler to try and see if he could catch a glimpse of Ariel. He hadn’t a fucking clue where to even begin looking for her, because the sight of a big, black dog padding around the school was sure to raise eyebrows. Was she a Gryffindor? Ravenclaw? Merlin fucking help them all if Snivellus had somehow influenced her into Slytherin. He wondered if he could take refuge in an alcove somewhere to keep warm at night, but that was really pushing it, and Sirius wasn’t _that_ much of an idiot. The Shrieking Shack would be his best bet for shelter once the Forest stopped working out.

A shape descended from the mist, and Sirius perked up at the sight of a messy, raven haired boy. His mouth was set in a tight line— the other two boys stopped talking to glance at him. Harry landed and stalked past them, looking annoyed, and the dark haired boy grabbed his shoulder.

Harry tore away, like the other was some kind of fleshing eating disease, and walked straight off the Quidditch pitch. Little Lucius looked a mixture of annoyed and smug. The other kid seemed hurt, before he jerked his head at the blonde, and they set off in the opposite direction.

Confused, Sirius hopped off the bench and began to follow Harry from a distance. Off in the horizon, he could see storm clouds rolling, dark and black and thick. The Shrieking Shack may have to become his new dwelling sooner than he’d anticipated. _Dammit—_ he’d wanted to keep out of Hogsmeade… how bad was a little rain? Sirius could tough it out, probably, if it meant staying near the kids.

Harry was heading back towards the school, by the looks of it, dragging his broom behind him. It was a nice one— expensive, from what Sirius could tell. He hadn’t a clue of what kind of model, seeing as he hadn’t been anywhere near Diagon Alley in twelve years.

A girl with bushy hair Sirius had seen once or twice was coming towards Harry with a textbook tucked under her arm. She looked eager, like she’d been expecting him, and Harry’s demeanor seemed to brighten a bit.

“How was practice?” The girl asked, falling in step with Harry.

He shrugged, “Fine. It’s days like this I’m glad I’m a Seeker, if I’m being honest.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I get to go off on my own.” Harry said, almost smugly, “I don’t need the other teammates to help me catch a Snitch.”

“You mean so you don’t have to talk to Damon.” The girl gave him a knowing look.

 _Damon?_ As in _Bella’s kid?_ Fucking Christ— well, it really wasn’t a surprise he was in Slytherin. After all, the kid’s name _was_ only one letter away from _demon._ Sirius crept closer, intrigued.

“That’s a plus too.” Harry agreed, though it sounded reluctant.

The girl sighed, “Harry, you can’t keep ignoring him. He might be mad at your sister—”

“Hermione, if he’s not talking to Ariel, then I’m not talking to him. What he did…”

“You should really leave it between the two of them. It’s best not to take sides…”

Sirius blinked in confusion. Why were they talking as though they were _friends_ with the boy? He assumed that Harry must have to interact with him since they were in the same House, but—

He looked back at them— the girl named Hermione was wearing Gryffindor robes. She caught his eye— she looked straight at him, actually, and Sirius dove behind a bush as if someone had set him on fire. 

“What was that?” Sirius heard her ask.

“What was what?” He heard Harry turn.

“Was that Fang? Does Hagrid let him out by himself?”

“Merlin, I hope not.” Harry snorted, “C’mon, I promised my sister we’d meet her before dinner.”

It was the first mention of Ariel Sirius had heard. He wanted to leap out from behind the bush and follow them, see the girl for himself and make sure she was okay, but the rational part of him that tended to save his arse told him no.

Patience was not Sirius’ strong point, but it would be his stronghold.

Their chatter faded away as the distance between Sirius and them grew, and the ache inside him accompanied it.

The next morning, Sirius awoke from his spot under a large sycamore to hear the sounds of excited chatter passing by. He immediately stood, shaking the dead leaves he’d somehow managed to cover himself with before he’d fallen asleep as Padfoot.

It was a downpour— he’d been sheltered underneath the tree, but out here in the open, Sirius was drenched in a matter of seconds. Leave it to Sprout and whoever the hell Slytherin’s Head of House was not to cancel a match, though admittedly, games in the middle of a storm had always proved to be far more entertaining.

As he crept from behind the tree line, Sirius saw a throng of students, all dressed in bright House colors, heading towards the Quidditch pitch. His heart swelled with memories of eons past— how he missed playing with James— listening to Remus shout from the stands, the roar of the crowd— 

By the looks of it, it seemed that Slytherin was going up against Hufflepuff. There were green and yellow flags and banners mixed among a sea of color. Sirius straightened up— he had to see Harry— _had to—_

Sirius followed the crowd as the walked the path to the arena behind the cover of the Forest, his mind racing his formulate a plan as to where he could watch without raising suspicions. He couldn’t go to his usual bench— people would be there. Perhaps underneath the stands—

There was a taller figure standing at the entrance, ushering the students forward, though it didn’t seem like the professor— whoever it was— was playing traffic cop. It seemed like he was looking for someone over the heads of students— Flitwick? No— this man was too tall, with brown hair flecked with grey—

Sirius recognized those shabby robes anywhere. His heart leapt up to his throat.

_Moony?_

No— Remus wouldn’t— gods, but what if it was? Remus… _Remus…_

This might be easier than Sirius had thought.

Or— a lot sodding harder. Fucking _shit._

Sirius doubled back, trying to contain his excitement, and fear. What was Remus _doing_ here? Had Dumbledore hired him? Gods, Sirius hoped so— Remus deserved somewhere safe and stable. He loved kids too. He’d been much better at watching Ariel and Harry than Sirius had been, more nurturing, like Lily. James had called them the fun police, while Sirius and James were the rule breakers, sneaking Ariel and Harry out of bed early in the morning their first Christmas—

He was _here— someone_ was keeping an eye on his godkids, thank fucking _Merlin._ The relief flooding through his chest almost hurt. Good riddance to fucking Snivellus— Moony would never stand for _that_ shit.

The crowd had thinned. There were only a few stragglers left behind as Sirius trotted along. He’d go back once Remus had left and the last of the students were in the stands. He wasn’t going to miss Harry’s game for anything.

As he approached his sleeping spot, Sirius heard her.

 _“— please?”_ A girl’s voice was asking loudly.

He screeched to a halt, because his mind said _Lily_ the exact same time he thought, _she’s dead._ Sirius crept along, peeking through the leaves of a juniper bush to see a flash of red.

Her hair was covered by the hood of a black cloak, but Sirius caught her face as she rounded on her companion, and he very nearly let out a jubilant bark. _Finally,_ after weeks of waiting, Sirius had found Ariel, who was just as he remembered her, only older, and not toddling about. Gods, James and Lily would have been so proud to see what they’d grown up to be—

And then Sirius saw who she was with.

What the fuck was Snivellus _doing_ here?

Sirius felt his heartbeat begin to accelerate. Snape wasn’t supposed to be at _Hogwarts._ He was supposed to be wherever the fuck Death Eaters who had avoided Azkaban skulked off to. If he had Ariel— which, it dawned on him that Lucius had been telling the truth after all— _why_ would he be _here?_

Ariel had stopped— Snivellus was looking down at her with the same familiar sneer— gods, he was uglier than ever— and said something back. She shoved past him and he grabbed her arm roughly—

Sirius growled, his nails digging into the soil to restrain himself from ripping out Snivellus’ fucking throat right then and there. How _dare he—_

Snape shoved Ariel behind him, who let out a startled yelp. Sirius cursed inwardly, backing away from the bush, losing his view of them. His heart was pounding against his ribcage, threatening to escape and fall to the Forest floor.

He heard Snivellus grunt something as the wind howled, and when Sirius looked back, they were heading to the pitch.

Sirius tore off in the direction of the Forest, his heart racing faster than his mind.

* * *

 

The girl was beginning to morph into his shadow.

She’d spent the week holed up in his quarters, which Severus found to be ironic, seeing as if she wanted to be far away from the Malfoys, Gryffindor Tower was her best bet. Ariel hadn’t spoken about her row with Bellatrix’s son since he’d found her on that blasted rock, right where Black could have grabbed her if he’d been somewhere near…

Needless to say, Severus had made Ariel promise not to go off to her rock again, unless he was with her. He couldn’t stand the thought of her going off into the Forest by herself, or even with her brother when Black was still free. How easily he could have—

He couldn’t afford to keep dwelling on it, or Severus was quite sure he’d go mad.

Not even Harry had been able to get anything of substance out of her about her feud with Malfoy. Severus had overheard them bickering about it— Ariel seemed to be on a need-to-know basis only, and Harry didn’t seem to like that one bit. He’d stormed from the room when she’d refused to give him a play by play, only to come back ten minutes later, stewing in annoyance, but had plunked his books down beside hers and begun to do his homework. Ariel had seemed surprised he’d come back, as Severus had as well, and he wondered why.

Later that same night, he’d found Ariel curled up with her stuffed wolf, asleep, something she hadn’t done since her first year. It had sat on a shelf for nearly two years now. Severus wondered why it had made it’s return— it had been one of the only things Ariel had with her when Dumbledore had brought her into his office twelve years ago.

He hated seeing her like this, but Severus had realized long ago that he could not fight her battles when it came to those she cared about.

That weekend had been the first of the Hogsmeade visits, which Ariel and Harry had both quickly realized. They’d come to him Friday night begging for him to sign the forms, but Severus would no sooner befriend the werewolf before he did such a thing. The both of them had put up quite the argument, and so they’d spent the rest of the evening scrubbing cauldrons.

Harry had seemed angry— though in a childish way, not the James Potter arrogance that demanded his will be done. Ariel was more desperate, hounding him into the week and beyond, swearing up and down that they’d be careful, that they would stay with a group, that Black couldn’t _possibly—_

Severus had gotten tired of saying no, but he would not tell her yes. After last year, and the year before that, and twelve years earlier, he couldn’t risk letting Ariel and Harry go. If they turned their backs for even a _second,_ if Black saw _any_ kind of an opportunity…

The werewolf, as much as Dumbledore insisted he was there for their safety, only heightened Severus’ unease.

It was pouring, as Severus and Ariel walked to the Quidditch pitch together the day of the first match of the season. The wind was howling something fierce, making it difficult to walk forward. It was almost as though it wanted them to turn back to the castle. Severus could tell she hadn’t wanted to go, but out of obligation to her brother, Ariel had toughed it out.

“Oh, c’mon Dad, _please?”_ Ariel was asking, _again._ He wanted shake her until she stopped talking, at this point.

“My answer is still no.” Severus snapped, unable to help himself. He couldn’t take much more of this.

“If Sirius Black was hiding somewhere,” Ariel was using her You’re-Being-Purposefully-Difficult voice, “I don't think it would be Honeydukes.”

“And that, my child,” Severus rolled his eyes, “is why you are not a Slytherin.”

She pouted up at him, “What if you came with us?”

“I would rather seek Peeves for company then volunteer to spend _more_ time around my students— especially if you’re all running around on a sugar high.”

The way she childishly stomped her foot in protest only reinforced Severus’ stance. Was she really already fourteen? In three years, Ariel could do what she wanted without his permission— she could leave and never look back—

“Please, Dad? _Please?”_ The plea was accompanied by a tug on his cloak. Severus looked down at the dark eyes staring back at him imploringly, and hardened his glare.

“No,” He said, for the umpteenth time, “and that is the last time I’m going to say it.”

“But Dad—”

He grabbed her arm roughly so that they were halted in the middle of the road. The wind roared around them.

“Ariel,” Severus leaned very close to her face, so near that his hooked nose was nearly touching hers, “I am not going to jeopardize your safety simply because you want to fill up on sweets and run about with your little friends.”

She shrank away from him, but glared back evenly, “That’s _not_ what I wanted to do there!”

“Oh?” He raised a disbelieving eyebrow, “Then _what_ is feeding this insatiable desire to go?”

Ariel went red, and pushed past him, “Nothing. Never mind.”

He stopped her with a single hand on her shoulder. Ariel stiffened, but stopped and sighed, turning back to look at him— she looked oddly defeated.

“I just…” She looked away, “I need to get away from Hogwarts for a while. We _both_ do.”

She was still upset about her spat with Bellatrix’s brat. Severus sighed, looking over her head in order to make sure no one was around— they were alone— and cupped her cheek with his hand.

And then he heard a faint growl come somewhere from behind them.

Severus immediately grabbed Ariel and shoved her behind him. She let out a startled cry, but soon quieted and leaned into his side, watching the tree line with wide eyes. He scanned it with laser beam precision, looking for the source of the noise, wand out.

There was nothing— or at least, from what Severus could see. The rain battered against them, the wind whipping his cloak about their ankles.

He had most definitely heard something. _What—_ he couldn't tell in this monsoon.

“Come,” Severus put his hand on the back of her neck, keeping his eyes over his shoulder, and led them both towards the Quidditch pitch.

“What was that?” Ariel whispered loudly, sending a frightened look back to the trees.

“I don’t know.” He told her, truthfully, and he hated it, tugging her along, “Don’t dawdle— I want you within my sights.”

He didn’t want her away from him— something felt _wrong—_ like someone was watching them, and didn’t want to, at the same time.

They approached the entrance to the arena, both of them positively soaked. Severus cast a quick drying Charm on the both of them, though in this rain, it would probably prove pointless in a matter of minutes.

And someone was fucking waiting for them.

“Hi, Professor Lupin.” Ariel greeted, edging away from Severus, who felt the air between them shock him. He kept a hand on her shoulder, though only Lupin noticed it. Ariel seemed to have forgotten he was there.

“Ariel,” The wolf greeted back, smiling widely, an infuriating twinkle in his grey eyes, “I see you and Severus caught the worst of the storm.”

“We er, stopped for a second.” She grinned sheepishly, “it was a bad idea. What’re you doing down here?”

 _Being a nosy bastard,_ Severus thought, throwing a sneer in Lupin’s direction. He’d waited for the girl to arrive— but why?

“I was actually going to head to the Gryffindor stands.” Lupin smiled, “It’s been years since I’ve watched a game of Quidditch, and I thought it’d be nice to do so again amongst House members.”

Ariel seemed to perk up at this— Severus’ chest ignited. His mind immediately prepared a rebuttal— he’d take her to the professor’s box— yes, that’d keep Lupin at bay—

 _“I have… decided, for the time being, that if you wish to… he calls it_ _‘getting to know one another,’ but, if you would like to decide for yourself, I will trust your judgement.”_ He had told her.

Severus was going to kill Lupin— not now, but one day. He’d make him sorry for putting him through this, for making him watch as his daughter walked away with a small smile for him, as the werewolf watched him and carried away the thing he held dearest, and a secret even more precious.

God _dammit—_

Severus threw a snarl at the spot where Lupin and Ariel had just stood before storming up to the professor’s box. He would have left, quite honestly, but he had to make sure the boy didn’t break his neck playing in this weather. He’d been counting on Sprout to call out, but she had a stubborn streak when it came to the start of term and her House getting a leg up against Slytherin and Gryffindor.

“Ah, Severus!” Dumbledore greeted as he sat, wearing a ridiculous yellow cloak that made Severus’ stomach turn over. It clashed terribly with the grey scenery behind him. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show!”

“My daughter hindered my arrival.” He muttered back, scanning the stands across from them— searching, looking for them—

“And how is Ariel these days?” Dumbledore asked, sounding far too interested for Severus’ taste.

“Wet, seeing as it is raining.” _Where where where had they gone—_

“I recall a time when she would fight you tooth and nail when it came to attending a Quidditch match.”

“And I recall a time when you didn’t hire werewolves and believe they weren’t aiding their murdering, lying, bastard of a friend.”

Dumbledore looked at him, then, through the rain, and Severus felt his eyes pierce straight through him. It felt like something sharp was jabbing him in the throat.

“Remus did say something about sitting with Ariel.” was all he said.

Severus’ fingernails dug into the wood of the bench they were seated on. He began to scan the stands again, locating them quicker than he thought— it was near impossible to make out any faces through the sleet coming down. They were rather high up in the Gryffindor stands, the last bench, in fact. Ariel was wiping her face, trying to get the water out of her eyes, while Lupin watched the game— which Severus hadn’t been paying any mind too— with rapt attention.

“Where’s Harry?” Severus asked Dumbledore, frowning.

“He and Cedric Diggory took off after the Snitch a while ago.” He sounded amused by this, “They’re somewhere above us, I believe.”

Another wasted effort. Severus sighed, the rain battering against him, and looked back towards his daughter.

The fuck was _Lupin—_

The girl said something to him, and the werewolf laughed. Ariel’s head turned as the crowd roared, and Lupin _put his hand on her shoulder,_ trying to look over the sea of heads.

He hadn't liked to hold her as a child— not that that had _stopped_ Ariel, but it had led to a certain discomfort on his behalf, or at least, it had in the beginning. Severus had feared that if he touched her, some of his darkness would seep into her, taint her somehow, snuff out the light in her dark eyes that commanded the sun to rise in the morning. Ariel, however, hadn't seemed to notice, or care for his apprehension, and had found every moment she possibly could to curl up in his lap. She had been like a cat— which was partly the reason Severus had _bought_ her one— perhaps a pet would distract her— but Ariel had kept coming, until one day, he realized that his will was crumbling. It had been too far gone at the point to even think of resurrecting walls again.

Severus didn’t like him touching her, as if he had _any right…_

He turned back to Dumbledore, but he was frowning, something stern and thicker than the storm clouds passing over his face.

Something was wrong. An eerie silence was falling over the stadium—

“Albus!” Severus stood, scanning the sky for the boy, meeting the Headmaster’s ice blue eyes in the same breath. Where was the boy— Severus couldn’t fucking _see_ anything in this storm— gods, where was—

And then he saw Harry falling, like an anvil dumped into the sea.

* * *

 

“A dreadful day for this, isn’t it?” Lupin was saying over the roar of the rain.

“I’d like it a whole lot more if I were inside.” Ariel muttered back, craning her neck to try and catch a glimpse of Harry. It would be a miracle if she’d catch even a passing blur of him in this downpour. Ariel wondered how Harry flew in it. She’d have been struck by lightning or blown off her broom by now. She hoped he’d worn those goggles Ron had given him.

“A fine suggestion.” Lupin mused, “Imagine holding a Quidditch match in the Great Hall.”

Ariel blinked up at him as rain dropped into her eyes. She could barely make out the amused smirk on his face.

“I didn’t mean it literally.” She rolled her eyes, and Lupin chuckled softly.

“I take it you’re not a fan of Quidditch, then?”

She shrugged, “I used to really hate it, but Harry got me more into it last year. I only like to fly with him.”

“Have you ever thought of trying out for the team?”

“No,” Ariel snorted, “we could kiss the House Cup goodbye if that were the case. Gryffindor would never win a game.”

“I’m sure you’re not as terrible as you say.” Lupin laughed, a low sound that reminded her of dark chocolate, “Your father was a natural at Quidditch— he must have passed some of that talent on to you as well.”

Her stomach twisted itself into a knot.

“I think he gave it all to Harry.” Ariel muttered. Lupin made a sound she couldn’t identify.

She had been trying not to, but Ariel had been watching Damon the majority of the game. Draco was everywhere— she couldn’t have ignored him even if she wanted to, seeing as he was a Chaser. He’d been giving her horrid looks ever since her argument with Damon. Hermione and her had to talk Ron and Harry down from Hexing him into a wall or something. Damon, on the other hand, had been pretending like Ariel didn’t exist.

“Harry swallowed the Snitch his first game.” Ariel told Lupin as the Hufflepuffs broke into loud cheers that nearly drowned out the rain. She didn’t want to focus on Damon, or Draco for that matter, anymore, and they were all she could see with Harry out of sight.

Lupin looked a combination of concerned and amused, “He _swallowed_ it?”

“Well, almost.” She admitted, “He _kind of_ did— he fell off his broom and must’ve had his mouth open, because he spat it back out. He won the game, though. It still counted.”

“I must say, that takes a certain amount of rare talent.”

“He’s Wood’s greatest fear. You should hear the way he talks about him in Gryffindor Tower— like Harry is the end of days for us when it comes to the House Cup.”

“I wouldn’t blame him.” Lupin chuckled, “Though, I think if you gave yourself the chance— ah, there he is!” He pointed to the right, and Ariel turned just in time to see Harry zoom on by.

Ariel leaped up, shouting his name and waving, though of course, Harry probably didn’t see her. The Hufflepuff seeker, a boy named Cedric, was right behind him, swerving his broom to try and take the lead.

“Why _don’t_ you like to fly?” Lupin asked as Ariel sat back down, “You say you enjoy it with Harry?”

“Harry knows what he’s doing.” She shrugged, “I don’t like heights— but with him, I can trust that we won’t crash.”

“You’ve crashed?” It sounded like he was holding back a laugh.

“No,” Ariel reddened, “I’m afraid of it.”

She really was a sad excuse for a sodding Gryffindor. She was afraid of her facing her Boggart, _and_ flying. Lupin must have thought her such a coward. She could imagine him going to Professor McGonagall and telling her all about this… like he’d told her father about the Boggart.

“Your mother crashed once— ah! There he goes again!” Lupin jerked his head in Harry’s direction, but this time, Ariel didn’t even flinch, though her eyes landed on the hand he put on her shoulder.

“My mum?” Her mouth was suddenly very dry, despite the fact that the rest of her body was soaked.

“She was trying to chase after your dad.” He looked down at her, and his eyes were warm, like sunlight, “She landed in a bush— no harm done, but she _did_ get stuck. I was the one to pull her out.”

“Mum wasn’t a good flyer, either?” Ariel asked, and something inside of her exploded into a million pieces.

“Just awful.” Lupin shook his head— it was a sad shake, though, somehow, it still brought a small smile to Ariel’s face, “Your mother should have stayed as far away from brooms as humanly possible. She’d only get on one if James was the one doing the actual flying.”

Just then, the sky seemed to darken. The wind, which had been howling moments ago, seemed to quiet, the roar of the crowd far, far away. They sounded like the ocean when you put up a conch to your ear— like someone’s echoes were finally reaching her ears—

And then it got cold, so cold that Ariel felt her bones tremble, her face drain of feeling, and then—

 _“Please, not my children, not them, please!”_ A woman’s voice cried.

 _“Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside…”_ Another one, a cold, high voice commanded, and inside her box, Ariel thought _Tom._

_“Please, take me instead! Anything but them…”_

_“Stand aside… stand aside…”_

_“Have mercy… have mercy…”_

Someone was screaming— the woman, her _mum—_ he was going to kill her…

And then there was a man yelling, something firm slamming against something just as hard—

 _“Oh_ _fuck… I’m sorry Lily…”_ Her father sobbed, _“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…”_

And then his darkness swallowed her whole.

* * *

 

Severus had never seen Dumbledore so angry, and quite honestly, he couldn’t blame him after watching Lily’s son plummet to the ground at a heart stopping speed. The boy was physically fine— Severus had made sure of that before he’d scooped him up and headed to the hospital wing with him— though it was still absolutely terrifying to witness, even with him, Dumbledore, and Minerva casting three simultaneous Cushioning Charms.

Harry was still unconscious as Poppy worked on him, Severus watched, tight faced and unable to tear himself from the boy’s side. He’d never seen Dementor's effect one in such a way, though, he supposed, hearing your mother being murdered by a psychotic madman might just do the trick.

_Why didn’t you tell me?_

_Fucking_ Dementors— he had liked the idea of them being at Hogwarts as much as Dumbledore had, though, in that part of his mind where Ariel and Harry were concerned, they were quite possibly the one thing standing between them and Black. Bent on revenge or not, risking soullessness was not something to be taken lightly.

The boy was pale, his lips bloodless, but otherwise, appeared unharmed. Severus felt his hand, finding it ice cold to his touch.

He could hear people coming down the corridor just outside now, and Severus took the remaining moments he had to run his own Diagnostic to ensure Poppy hadn’t missed anything, brushing his hand across the boy’s forehead—

_What—_

Severus quickly ducked out of sight behind a curtain, seating himself to wait out the little cretins. There was no way Poppy would let them stay for long, or Severus, for that matter.

“Harry?” It was Weasley who called, sounding frantic. The group’s footsteps sounded like a herd of hippogriffs and made Severus’ temple throb.

“He’s right here, Mr Weasley.” Poppy’s voice sighed, “Miss Granger, do you need a Calming Draught?”

“N-no ma’am.” She sounded dreadful, “Harry just g-gave us a fright—”

“Is he going to be alright?” Asked Flint’s voice.

“He’ll be right as rain once he wakes up and gets some—” Poppy cut off suddenly, and then gasped, “Oh my!”

“Is Severus here?” asked the last voice Severus wanted to hear at the moment. He stood though— realization jolting through him. He’d left Ariel alone with him back at the arena. He had to go and find her—

“Her too?” Poppy replied.

Severus’ heart nearly strangled him as it pushed its way up his throat. He ripped back the curtain— Lupin was carrying Ariel in his arms— he was _holding her he was going to kill him he was—_

“She passed out in the stands.” Lupin said, meeting his gaze as he finished speaking. Severus could have sworn there was relief there.

“Give her to me.” He growled, receiving the girl, who was as cold as her brother, and deposited her onto the cot Poppy ushered him to. Even the color in her scarlet hair seemed to have dulled.

Just a week ago Ariel had realized the gravity of the memory she’d heard. That thing inside his mind shrieked— it made his hands grip hers as Poppy worked. Lupin went to the other side of the room to check on Harry, and for once, Severus didn’t try to stop him.

He prayed to whatever deity listening that Ariel had become unconscious before she’d heard him again. Had the boy, this time? _Why_ did they remember…

As if things couldn’t get _any_ more—

“Sir?”

Severus turned back towards the doorway to find both Malfoy boys, the pair white as sheets, with something covered with a cloth in Draco’s arms.

He raised an eyebrow at them, nostrils flaring.

Bellatrix’s son stepped forward, “We… found Harry’s broom. It flew into the Whomping Willow.” 


	62. The Run and Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m putting this warning here for an abundance of profanity, and angst, for the next several chapters. I’m not dragging it out like CoS, because this isn’t a horror novel— we’ll get resolution quickly— but here’s your heads up. I also quoted bits and pieces of canon here. Enjoy the ride, ladies and gents.

He dreamt of his mother, who laid his head in her lap and stroked his hair lovingly, like he’d always imagined she would.

Harry let his eyes wander— it was too bright to distinguish where they were. He could see her dark red hair falling about him, and hear her breathing softly.

There was no screaming. There was no voice. Only Lily.

“Don’t go.” Harry whispered, his heart so full that he was sure it would burst.

“I never left.” His mother told him, and for some strange reason, Harry believed her.

And for once, even if it was for just a moment, Harry knew what it was to be loved unconditionally.

* * *

When Harry’s eyes finally forced themselves open, he found the infirmary dark, save a few candles left burning above the unoccupied beds. His body felt like every joint had been unscrewed— he couldn’t even lift his arms at his sides or cross his legs as he sat up. His vision was blurring in front of him, though he couldn’t tell if that was from the lack of glasses, or the fact that he’d fallen off his broomstick in the middle of a thunderstorm.

It had been like someone had forced him underwater. A blackness had come upon him, and then all he’d known was his mum screaming, and Voldemort commanding her to move aside— she’d been pleading, _pleading…_

And then there were the Dementors. Harry felt sick and humiliated every time he thought of them. Everyone said the Dementors were horrible, but no one else collapsed every time they went near one. Zabini had mentioned…  but _they_ didn’t hear echoes in their head of their dying parents— save Ariel, but she was just as helpless as he was. Harry knew who that screaming voice belonged to now, and he wished he didn’t, but he did. He had heard her words, heard them over and over again during the night hours in his dormitory while he lay awake, staring at the strips of moonlight on the ceiling. When the Dementors approached him, he heard the last moments of his mother's life, her attempts to protect him, Harry, from Lord Voldemort, and Voldemort's laughter before he murdered her…

Harry wanted to cry, but he wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

He looked around, finding that his sister was beside him, which only made his head hurt even more. Why was she here? Had she passed out again too?

Stupid _sodding_ Dementors…

It was then that Harry noticed that Severus was beside Ariel, head bent low so that his black hair covered his face like a curtain.

“What time is it?” Harry asked him, his throat dry. His voice seemed to crack on every syllable.

He looked up— his face seemed sharper against the candlelight, his eyes alert and wary.

“A little past six.” Severus handed him a full glass of water that was sitting on the nightstand farthest from him, “You’ve been unconscious for a while.”

“What happened?” Harry asked, taking a large gulp. He barely remembered falling— just that one minute when the Snitch was within his reach, and the next, he was weightless as he tried to reach for his mum.

Severus waited till he finished drinking to respond, “The Dementors rendered you incapable of flight. You fell fifty feet or so.”

Harry frowned, “How’d they get inside the arena?”

“They were attracted to all of the people.” He sounded disgusted, his voice a near-growl, “Dumbledore banished them— their place is at the gates, where they can’t harm anyone.”

He sighed. Of course with his luck, Dementors would swoop in, single him out and ruin his first match—

The _GAME—_ Flint was going to _kill him!_

Harry shot back up like a bullet, gaining the remainder of Severus’ attention, which had been focused on Ariel, who was still fast asleep.

“What is it?” Severus asked, eyes narrowing.

He slumped against the pillows, “The Snitch… I had it…”

“Diggory caught it,” Severus said, and Harry felt his stomach drop to the floor, “just as you fell— he couldn’t tell, in the midst of the storm.”

Harry put his face to his knees, his hands gripping his hair, and moaned. He’d never lost a game of Quidditch before— he _always_ caught the Snitch. He’d been looking forward to this game since school had begun, and he’d buggered it because he couldn’t keep his eyes open around those _stupid Dementors—_

“Hufflepuff, has, however, requested a rematch.” Severus continued. It took a moment for his words to register with Harry.

His head shot up, “They did?”

Severus gave a single nod, “Diggory thought it unfair— it was obvious that had you not dropped from the sky like a rock, you would have won. Flint agreed to it before Professor Sprout or I could speak, though I believe it’s a matter between captains anyway.”

Harry hadn’t remembered falling. All he could recall was his world going dark, that terrible, horrid cold seeping into his skin, and then his mum—

_I never left_

“I’ve never lost a game of Quidditch before.” He muttered dejectedly. Even if they were getting a rematch, he could already hear the other students saying it wasn’t fair— but why should he care?

“There’s a first time for everything.” Severus said, the ends of his lips curving upwards. His eyes were darker than the infirmary itself.

“And my broom?” Harry leaned forward anxiously, “Someone got it, right?”

He went silent, his lips pressed into a tight line. His eyes went to the windows behind Harry.

His stomach heaved.

“M-my broom’s okay, right?” Harry asked, leaning forward on his hands, “It couldn’t have been _that_ bad… I mean…”

“The wind blew it into the Whomping Willow.” Severus said tonelessly, “I’m afraid your broom has been reduced to straw and sticks. Consider it replaced, regardless.”

Harry felt his face go red, while something inside him squirmed— he felt like he’d somehow lost a friend, however stupid that sounded, “You don’t have to… you bought the first one, I should get this one myself—”

“Consider. It. Replaced.” Severus repeated flatly. His eyes held a warning in them. How could someone be kind, and yet threatening, in the same sentence? Was it even kindness? Or obligation?

Harry fell silent for a moment, and then, gestured to Ariel with his hands, “What happened to her?”

His face immediately tightened into a scowl, “The same thing that happened to you, although, she didn’t fall from the stands.”

Surprised, Harry blinked several times as his mind tried to process this. He’d been far closer to the Dementors than Ariel had been— did they affect them _that_ badly? Well, that seemed like a stupid question— hearing one’s mother being murdered by a dark wizard was sure to screw someone in the head _somehow._

“I heard her again.” Harry said softly, not knowing why he was telling Severus any of this— if what Ariel had said about him loving their mum was true, then Severus probably didn’t want to hear it anyway. Who would?

His face went taut. It looked like someone was stretching the skin across his features— Severus almost appeared skeletal. His eyes lowered themselves so that they were looking back down at Ariel.

“I’m sick of feeling helpless.” Harry went on, when Severus didn’t answer— not that he’d expected him to. “I feel… I can’t control anything when they’re near. If they’re going to be here until Black is captured—”

Severus knuckles tightened from their place on Ariel’s cot.

“— then I want to be able to protect myself.” He lifted his chin, giving Severus a meaningful look, “There _has_ to be _something._ How did Professor Dumbledore get rid of them?”

It looked like it was taking all of Severus’ strength to look back up at him, his head too heavy for his shoulders, “There is a charm…”

Harry perked up.

“But it’s highly advanced.” He finished, “It’s years beyond your capability.”

Harry crossed his arms and huffed in annoyance, “I can learn it.”

“There are witches and wizards who have lived lifetimes without being able to produce it.” Severus sounded dismissive— like this conversation was somehow annoying him.

“What is it?” Harry demanded, bristling.

Severus sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose, “It’s called the Patronus charm—”

“Can you show me it?”

Something rippled across Severus’ face that Harry couldn’t identify.

“If you wish to learn Defensive magic,” His hand curled around Ariel’s sheets, “I believe that’s a question best left for your Defense _professor.”_

“You _want_ the Defense job,” Harry shot back, “so obviously you know just as much— or even more, seeing as you look at him like you’re hoping he’ll fall down a flight of stairs.”

For a second, Harry thought he’d overstepped his boundaries, but it was all too easy for him to lose his temper when it came to Severus. Even if they were… was friends the right word? No, Severus didn’t have friends. He had Ariel, and Dumbledore— so what did that make Harry?

Severus’ glare nearly burned a hole through his head, but then, they began to glitter like sunlight reflecting off a pond.

And then, something else occurred to Harry.

“You… you _can_ do it, can’t you?” He asked hesitantly. Severus didn’t seem like to kind of person to not be able to do something. Slytherin were resourceful, and if something was threatening Ariel, Harry was quite sure Severus would have an arsenal full of spells against Voldemort, or basilisks, or Dementors.

That strange look passed over Severus’ face again, and Harry’s confusion heightened.

“I can,” He said, in an even stranger voice, like he was chewing on nails, “though, the charm is specific to the caster.”

Harry blinked, “What does that mean?”

“Ask Lupin.” Severus’ tone told him not to push it.

He glared, though it was rather hard, seeing as it hurt his eyes. He could make out Severus well enough since he was so close, but when Harry narrowed his eyes, the potion’s master turned into a giant black blob. His head was still throbbing, body heavy, and was too weak to reach for his glasses on the nightstand. He wanted to go back to bed, right about now, but didn’t want to let the conversation end like this.

“Do you really hate Lupin just because he was my dad’s friend?” Harry asked him instead of trying to get more on the Patronus charm. He wondered why he didn’t want to talk about it. For someone who didn’t seem to want Harry or Ariel around Lupin, why was he suddenly shoving him at the professor for this?

Well, Harry wasn’t doing any digging, like last year. He’d learned his lesson after _that._

Severus went very still, like a statue. The only sound that filled the silence was Ariel’s deep, even breathing.

“I don’t hate you, Harry.” He finally said.

_“Anymore.”_

He gave him a look, “I’ve told you that I do not _trust_ Lupin.”

“But _why?”_ Harry asked, throwing his covers off so that he was fully facing him, “If Mum and Dad—”

“I am not your mother, nor your father.” Severus said coldly, “We have radically different perceptions.”

The infirmary doors opened, then, and Harry half expected to see Madam Pomfrey enter, but he soon found that his assumption was wrong. The figure was taller, with shabby robes—

Severus’ face seemed to crack, like an earthquake ripping apart concrete.

“Welcome back to the world of the living.” Lupin greeted with a warm smile once he saw Harry up, “You gave us quite a scare back there.”

Harry glanced at Severus from the corner of his eye, his gaze centering on Ariel with far too much focus.

“Thanks,” Harry managed a small smile, “though I don’t think I’m fully alive just yet. I feel like I got hit by a train.”

Lupin gave a small chuckle, seating himself on the end of Harry’s cot. Severus’ head shot up so fast that it was a wonder his neck didn’t snap.

“You still feel ill?” He demanded, his eyes needle-like.

“Well yeah,” Harry said, “you _did_ say I fell fifty feet.”

Severus glowered, wordlessly summoning something that crinkled, like wrapping paper. He held his hand out to Harry— there was a bar of chocolate in it. Well, it seemed that hell must’ve frozen over, because today was the day that Professor Snape was giving him sweets. Neville would have fainted in shock.

Harry took it from him, taking a small nimble. It warmed his toes.

“Sprout would like a word with you,” Lupin said, looking directly at Severus now, “about the rematch.”

Harry’s heart soared, and then fell in the same instance. He wanted to make sure they hadn’t lost the match, but he also didn’t want Severus to leave.

He didn’t know why.

“Right _now?”_ Severus looked incredibly put-upon. 

“I told Albus I’d stay with them until you return,” Lupin paused, like he was gauging Severus’ reaction carefully, “that is, if that’s alright with you. Minerva also said you should eat something, and that you owe her five galleons on a bet of some kind.”

Severus buried his face in his hands. Harry could’ve sworn he heard him mumble something about meddling old bats. When he finally lifted his head, his eyes were so sharp that Harry was nearly impressed that Lupin didn’t flinch.

“If she awakens,” Severus said— no, _commanded—_ “you _will_ come and fetch me.”

“Of course.” Lupin nodded, as though the concept of anything else was absurd.

Severus rose, looking tired and worn, though somehow, still alert and wary. His eyes landed on Harry and the bar of uneaten chocolate in his hands.

“Finish that.” Severus said, “you’ll feel better.”

Harry frowned, “Shouldn’t I save some for Ariel?”

“No worries,” Lupin ruffled through his robe pockets, pulling out a fresh bar, “I have some. I always carry it around.”

“Splendid.” Severus said flatly, his tone saying something else entirely. He gave Harry one last lingering look, like he had something else to say, before he pivoted and stalked out the door, robes flapping behind him.

Lupin watched him go as Harry did before standing and seating himself in the chair Severus had just been sitting in. He looked at him, both of them saying nothing for a moment. Lupin deposited the chocolate bar onto the nightstand beside Ariel.

“Do you really always carry chocolate around?” Harry raised an eyebrow at him.

Lupin laughed, his face softening, “Only when Dementors are on the prowl. Are you feeling any better now?”

He took a bigger bite of chocolate, shrugging, “Kind of.”

“You look tired. You should try and get some more sleep. Your sister seems to have the right idea.”

“Ariel could sleep through a world war.” Harry snorted, but nestled his head back against the pillow. “Goodnight.” He murmured to Lupin, before turning his back to him and his sister.

Outside, the moonlight shone through the windows, a light breeze flurrying the drapes. As his weariness overshadowed his consciousness, Harry could have sworn he saw his mum again, like he had in his dream, if he looked close enough.

He could have sworn he saw the outline of a dog when he looked out the windows. 

* * *

Severus lingered in the Great Hall long enough so that he was the last one to leave, and it made him what to punch something. Curse. Hex. Scream.

He would, of course, do no such thing, unless Lupin provoked him to it, which, the chances of that happening seemed more and more likely as the days went by. Severus had, after all, promised the werewolf that he would not interfere with his relationship in regards to Lily’s children, _not_ his well being.

Fucking werewolf. Lupin was like a bad taste in his mouth he couldn’t get rid of, no matter how hard he tried.

His meeting with Sprout had been about as pointless as Dementors at Azkaban, or so it seemed. She’d been tipsy, the Elvish wine looking particularly inviting tonight after the events of the Quidditch match. Severus could sense the student’s unrest— hear the whispers of what had happened to Harry Potter, and where was his sister?

He’d felt Granger and Weasley’s eyes on him as he moved up the aisles towards the High Table, though his own had fallen on the Malfoy boys. Draco seemed— perturbed wasn’t the right word, but it seemed to be the only one the suited his expression. Bellatrix’s son looked ill. Severus nearly approached him to ask if he needed to see Poppy, but stopped himself. If Ariel awoke to find him in the hospital wing, he was quite sure that she’d put herself in a state, or worse, _worry_ about the brat, which was the last thing she needed right now.

And more than anything, Severus hoped that Ariel had become unconscious before she’d heard anything, like on the train. That seemed unlikely, seeing as the last time, Lupin had told him she’d been in the Dementor’s presence for barely thirty seconds before passing out, but for her sake…

_(It was his own he couldn’t stand the thought of her hearing him so vulnerable it ripped into his chest and twisted his insides, his mind swimming at trying to comprehend what he’d done)_

Severus didn’t want to return and look into those eyes— _I heard her again—_ and see the validation and hurt and pain in them. That night, and all the nights after it, were a black spot in his memories, a time when Severus had not once recognized himself. He _hated_ that Ariel knew— saw— heard—

He nearly collided with Lupin, who was walking out of the hospital wing just as Severus was reentering.

“Ariel’s awake.” The werewolf said before Severus could muster together a snarl, “She’s asking for you.”

Warmth flooded through his chest the same moment an impending sense of doom overcame him. It was incredibly disorienting, and if Severus hated anything, it was being confused.

Severus gave him a parting sneer before shoving Lupin aside— or at least, giving him a semblance of a shove— he wouldn’t touch the bastard.

Ariel was indeed waiting for him— she was sitting up on her haunches, watching the doorway with alert eyes. Severus looked to the bed beside her and found that Harry had fallen back asleep. He was relieved, not knowing how to handle the girl if the boy was awake, though Severus told himself that she’d probably have pretended like everything was okay in order to make sure Harry was first.

“Lupin said we passed out because of the Dementors again.” Ariel said softly. Her face was porcelain white, glowing in the moonlight filtering in through the windows. She was fumbling with the wrapping on the chocolate bar Lupin had left for her.

_And what will you give me in return, Severus?_

She wiped frantically at her face as it twisted at the memory, and Severus felt the tips of his fingers turn to ice. It took all of his strength to seat himself beside her on the bed. Ariel reached for him, curling her arms around his chest, and he wrapped his own around her shoulder.

_Anything._

“I heard it.” She choked, wiping at her face, “Worse, this time.”

The thing behind his Occlumency shields slammed its full weight against them, but Severus would not let it break free. At least, not tonight. He shushed her, careful not to wake Harry.

“I’m sorry,” Severus whispered, combing his hand methodically through her hair, “it’s not going to happen again. Professor Dumbledore gave me his word.”

Though, truly, what _was_ Dumbledore’s word worth?

“He can’t control the Dementors, though.” Ariel looked up at him, “Can he?”

“As long as he is Headmaster of this school, they must obey his will.”

“I hate them.” She rasped, “I hate _him.”_

Severus stopped, meeting her black eyes, which had filled with flames, “Who?”

“Voldemort.” Her hands curled around his robes, “He _laughed…_ and you… I… you and mum—”

He wanted to shove a hand over her mouth— Severus didn’t want to hear this. He couldn’t take Ariel knowing, feeling _sorry,_ as if she understood _anything_ about that night, and why it had occurred at all. He glanced back at Harry, who was still sound asleep, and tightened the hand in Ariel’s hair.

He couldn’t do this. He didn’t know _how—_ how _did_ you chase away your child’s worst memory, a memory that held not only someone untouchable, but one’s own self? How was Severus to comfort her, when _he_ had caused this?

Ariel seemed to sense this, like she always did. For a child that constantly berated him for being vague and distant, she seemed to know what he needed, even if it wasn’t what he wanted. Severus _wanted_ to be able make her feel better, but with Ariel, sometimes, it seemed, that she needed to learn things for herself— reach catharsis on her own.

“I’m sorry.” She moved away from him, sniffling, “You… you don’t want to hear this… m’sorry.”

Severus let her go— he hated himself for it— _hated it—_

“I just hate being afraid.” Ariel told him quietly, “It’s not so much… what I heard. I wish I could be brave like you and mum and James.”

It took all of his self control not to gawk at it her. _Bravery?_ Is that why she had been so sullen lately? Severus had suspected the other day on the rock that Malfoy couldn’t have been all— that there was something more, something having to do with the Boggart. Ariel, who had looked him in the eye with burning fury and demanded to see her brother, who had gone hurdling after Quirrell in pursuit of the boy, had stabbed a diary and survived months of oppression… when had Severus ever done anything a shred so brave?

“I know what it is to be afraid,” Severus told her, “because I have something left to lose. Don’t confuse the two, child. Your reckless, Gryffindor bravery has nothing to do with how you react in a Dementor’s presence.”

Her hair was hiding her face, but at his words, Ariel cocked her head sideways, and gave him a small smile, “Thanks, Dad.”

Severus let his fingers brush over her hair, letting his hand linger, noticing that half the chocolate bar Lupin had left her was eaten, “Do you need anything? Dreamless Sleep?”

“I kind of want to be alone.” Ariel sighed, “You can go— you look exhausted.”

“Go?” His eyes narrowed, “And where am I going?”

“I’m fourteen, Dad.” She rolled her eyes, “You don’t have to sit with me through the night.”

“I’m not leaving you here by yourself.” Severus growled— foolish child. Like he would let _Lupin—_

“We’ll be _fine._ It’s not like Black is lurking outside somewhere, right?”

“I’m staying with you and Harry.” He said forcefully, “It’s late, anyway. You should go back to sleep. Not stay awake and ponder the theory of everything.”

She rolled her eyes, “What time is it?”

“A little past eleven.” He sighed, rubbing his face tiredly, holding out his other hand as he wordlessly summoned a vial of Dreamless Sleep.

Nothing happened. Ariel stared at his empty hand with a peculiar expression, like she thought he’d somehow failed to summon a potion. He glared back at her.

 _“Accio_ potion!” Severus called flatly, his voice echoing across the high ceiling. No potion came. How did Poppy _not_ have anymore Dreamless Sleep? He’d brewed her more than enough to last through December…

“Wait here.” Severus growled, standing, “I’ll be back.”

Ariel gave him Where-Else-Am-I-Going-To-Go? eyes, and laid her head back against the pillow. Severus’ eyes went back to the boy, who’d begun to snore lightly. When he returned, he’d spell some Dreamless Sleep into him as well— he should have gotten some before, but Lupin had a way of clouding his judgement whenever he was around.

Severus stalked down to the dungeons, hoping to find a student or so out of bed so that he could dock points. He was in a positively awful mood— not that he was ever in a _good_ one— but he needed something to take it out on. He wouldn’t subject Ariel or Harry to it, which was partly the reason he wanted them to _stay asleep—_

_I heard her again_

_He laughed—_

Someone was coming down the corridor as Severus descended into the dungeons— no, _running_ , peeking behind him as he walked forward, until the little cretin was coming right at Severus, nearly smashing right into him.

He reached and grabbed the silhouette, recognizing the platinum blonde hair immediately. 

“Mr Malfoy—” Severus grabbed the boy by the collar, “you had _better_ have a _very_ good reason to breaking curfew right now.”

“He’s here!” Draco gasped, squirming out of his grip, “In the dungeons!”

Severus felt his Shields tremble and reel.

“Who?” He demanded as the boy cowered.

“Sirius Black.” He breathed.

* * *

The moon shone brighter than usual, and as Sirius stalked through the grass, he couldn’t help but think it was somehow ironic.

It was at times like this when Sirius was seriously thankful for Padfoot. He didn’t know how he’d manage without his dog-form, let alone the wonderful escape it gave him from humanity, even if it was for a short while. It had been a slow torture with Bellatrix in the cell next to him back at Azkaban— worse than anything the Dementors could do to him.

If Snape was here, _teaching,_ then _that_ meant there was a _very_ good chance he was Head of Slytherin, and if _Harry_ was in Slytherin… it was like the perfect storm. He hadn’t a goddamn motherfucking clue what he was doing here, but if Snivellus put his greasy hands on his surrogate-goddaughter again, Sirius would blow up the entire castle if it meant keeping him away. Looking back on that, Sirius would later realize he hadn’t meant that— he’d simply just blow up _Snape,_ but pyro kinetics were beyond his reach, at the present moment. Or a fucking wand. 

The only reason for Snivellus being here that Sirius had come to was that Snape _taught_ here— which, if _Remus_ did, wasn’t so far-fetched. If that was the case, then what the hell did he teach? He’d been an oddball up to his eyes in dark magic in school— had Dumbledore given him the Defense position? Christ— what the _fuck_ was going on?

In and out, _with_ Harry and Ariel was the plan, though that part of Sirius’ mind that thought like a man told him that this wasn’t rational. Well, neither was leaving two defenseless children with a Death Eater, but then again, Sirius didn’t make the rules. He just played the game. He wouldn’t call it a fight when he knew it was a war, because Death Eaters didn’t play fair.

He wondered why Remus hadn’t taken off with them— hadn’t gone somewhere far and remote and where Snivellus couldn’t find them. If James were here—

But he wasn’t, Sirius reminded himself as his heart beat in painful tandem with his steps. It was up to him now, escaped convict or not.

Tonight was the closest Sirius had gotten to Hogwarts since he’d arrived here. He looked up at it as he approached the main entrance, feeling a wave of nostalgia crash over him, along with a painful stab of longing. How many times had he crossed over the threshold, taking it for granted? How many times had he and James and Remus and Peter come running out, or running in, or running _away_ from the trouble they’d caused?

Now, Sirius realized with a humorless snort, _he_ was the trouble. He was sure no one, save, maybe Filch and his stupid fucking cat, would be waltzing around the castle at this hour. But he could elude him easily— after all, if it came down between Padfoot and Mrs Norris, cat was sure to be a hell of a lot better than squirrel.

It was darker than he remembered, though granted, Sirius hadn’t the glow of his wand to help him this time. He slowly made his way past the Great Hall, stifling the overwhelming urge to go inside and reminisce. He was here for one thing, and one thing only.

Or two. Bugger.

His best bet was the dungeons first, and then Gryffindor Tower, if he could manage. He _had_ to. He didn’t know what he’d say to Harry to make him come with him when he found him— make lure him out. Gods, he sounded like a fucking pervert.

Sirius knew where the Slytherin dormitories were because Regulus had shown him himself. Of course, as they’d both gotten older, he’d stopped meeting his brother on the odd occasion they needed to speak, and because McGonagall had banned him from the dungeons unless he was there for Potions. There had been more than one occasion, when he’d been looking for Reg, where Sirius had run into _Snape_ instead, and of course, he’d never passed up an opportunity to Hex the greaseball.

Speaking of Hexing, Sirius _still_ didn't have a fucking wand.

Maybe he could get a hold of Harry’s when he found him— gods, what was he even going to say to the kid? He wouldn't even have time to speak, probably, but he had to reach out to him _somehow._ Sirius just couldn't let whatever the fuck Snivellus was doing go _on._

Which brought up another very good point.

He hadn’t any way to get inside the dormitory. Fucking _shit._

Sirius needed _something_ to help him— he knew from Reg that the common room entrance was behind a stone wall in the dungeons— password protected. Luckily, he’d _also_ learned that there was a way around the password, should one find themselves locked out. Reg had forgotten the password once, and had spent the night curled outside the door, freezing his arse off. One of the other Slytherins had later told him that if you took something sharp and applied _just_ enough pressure in between the crack of the door and wall, it could be pried open— Reg hadn’t believed it, scoffing, but in Sirius’ current situation, it was sounding mighty tempting.

Now, Sirius just had to find something to wedge in between it. The kitchens— they were just a corridor off from the dungeons… he could run down there, grab something that would work, and get Harry before Filch even worked his way down to the main floor.

With a swift _POP,_ Sirius transformed back into a man, flexing his hands, stretching his muscles before he laid a palm against the cold, stone walls. It felt odd to be back on two legs— even in Azkaban, he’d never had a reason to stand upright, unless he was being moved. He’d have killed for James’ invisibility cloak right now.

The kitchens were right below the Great Hall, meaning that he had to take the same staircase that led down to Hufflepuff basement. Remus had told him and James once, sarcastically, that they spent more time down there than in Gryffindor Tower, which, wasn’t all that far from true. As Sirius made his way through the dark halls, which seemed smaller, somehow, the memories of years past came flooding back— of James and he, hidden under the cloak, holding their breath as Filch passed by…

The portrait of the bowl of fruit was within his sights now. Sirius raised his hand, feeling the spot where James and Remus and he had done the same thing countless times, and tickled the pear.

The room was as enormous as ever, high-ceilinged, large as the Great Hall above it, with mounds of glittering brass pots and pans heaped around the stone walls, and a great brick fireplace at the other end. Sirius noticed a single half house fast asleep against one of the tables. At the sight of the elf, small part of him wondered what had happened to Kreacher— good fucking riddance of the little cretin.

Something glinted in Sirius’ peripheral vision. He glanced sideways, careful not to make a sound, and found a rather large butchering knife lying on the table closest to him.

Well, maybe Fate didn’t hate his fucking guts after all.

He grabbed it, shoving it into his mouth as he transformed back into Padfoot with a swift _pop!_ The house elf grave a snort, and Sirius froze, his right paw raised. But the elf stayed asleep, and so, Sirius tore from the kitchens and back up the stairwell, hidden in shadows and moonlight.

It was a bit unnerving just how quickly he found the entrance to the Slytherin common room— he couldn’t recall just how _well_ he remembered.

He could see Reg standing there— _please, don’t go Sirius, please—_

Sirius shoved the knife in between the crack in the wall, twisting his wrist to find the right spot, shoving it farther in— he wished Reg had been a little more specific, but how hard could it be?

And then—

It was _moving—_ he jumped back, watching in amazement as it slid open.

Sirius let out a hiss of triumph.

And then someone emerged, letting out a startled scream. Even in the dark of the dungeons, Sirius could tell who it was, and it wasn’t Harry.

It was… a clone of Lucius – a Little-Lucius. He had the same pointed face and hair and eyes…

Shit.  

The boy’s face somehow got even paler, if that was even possible, and let out a terrified yelp. He stumbled back, falling flat on his arse.

“P-please don’t kill me!” Lucius-clone pleaded, “M-my father, h-he’s one of you!”

Oh, good fucking _grief—_

“What’s the password inside?” Sirius demanded in a rough voice— Jesus, he’d forgotten what his voice sounded like after two months.

The boy’s grey eyes nearly bulged out of his head, but he began to shake his head back and forth. It was a true miracle it didn’t go flying off his damn shoulders.

“H-he’s not in there!”

“Then where the hell is he?” Sirius growled, advancing on the boy.

“I don’t know— h-he fell off his broom—”

Bloody hell— then _that_ meant he was in the infirmary. He wouldn’t keep Lucius-clone with him— he’d be spotted, and even then, there was no way he’d make it up to Gryffindor Tower in time _now—_

His heart stopped.

Harry had fallen off his _broom?_

_Fuck fuck FUCK_

“Get out of here!” Sirius snarled down at the kid, who gladly heeded his command and took off down the corridor. He practically made skid marks on the floor.

Sirius tore away in the opposite direction.

* * *

Ariel had fallen asleep sooner than she thought— her mind felt wearier than her body, and so before Severus could return with potions, Ariel had found herself in a familiar setting within her dreams.

She was back at Spinner’s End. Lupin and her mum were there, talking intensely about something on the couch of their sitting room. James and Severus were arguing, though they were whispering, heads bent low, and when her father saw Ariel watching, he’d sneered and disappeared into the kitchen. There was no sign of Harry, which worried her, especially when the shouting started.

The scene changed, and a blurry vision of something black came into focus.

There was a— a _dog?_

It whined at her, as Ariel rubbed her eyes. No— definitely still dreaming. What would a dog be doing in Hogwarts, beside her bed?

She was aware she was awake when she heard a door open and remembered she was in the hospital wing. There were footsteps, frantic whispers, and at this, Ariel sat up like someone had set her pants on fire.

When she looked back beside her, the dog was gone.

“Harry!” Ariel shook her sleeping brother’s shoulder, ripping back the curtain with the other hand, “Harry, wake up!”

“W-wha?” He mumbled barely lifting his head, “What’s going on?”

“Somethings happened—”

There were figures standing in the middle of the infirmary, all talking, now at a normal volume, though Ariel was still groggy with sleep and couldn’t quite make out what exactly they were talking about just yet. Outside, the sky was still dark— what had happened in the middle of the night? 

It was Dumbledore, McGonagall, her father, Lupin… and another figure, much shorter, who was incredibly pale and trembling—

_Draco?_

Harry had sat up straight, crawling to the foot of his bed, his hands gripping the bed frame. Ariel stayed where she was, throwing the covers off and kept her eyes trained on her father.

He seemed to notice them the same time the other professors did. McGonagall looked worried— Lupin tired, and anxious— Dumbledore…

“Take them up to my office for now, Severus.” Dumbledore seemed almost concerned, his blue eyes void of any twinkle for once, “Stay with them until I send for you. Minerva, alert the prefects to take their Houses down to the Great Hall. I want this castle searched top to bottom. Mr Malfoy— you’ll go with Professor McGonagall and do as she instructs.” 

Ariel looked back to Severus, confused, but as always, it didn’t seem to help her, much. If anything, it only made her feel more uneasy. Severus looked like he was going to break something, and _that_ was never a good sign.

They both leaned away as he billowed over to them, grabbing her arm roughly and practically picked her clean off the bed. Harry immediately scrambled off, the pair of them never taking their eyes off of one another as Severus took Harry in the other arm. He didn’t spare the other professors a parting glance.

They were underneath his cloak, hidden from sight as he herded them through the hallways.

Ariel glanced up at Severus— his expression was really starting to scare her, a bit. He was breathing very quick and shallow, and she could see the muscles clenching in his face.

“Dad?” She tried in a small voice.

His nails dug into her shoulder, and she heard his voice, like a sound at the very bottom of a well, say, “Not now.”

Ariel and Harry exchanged another wide-eyed look. They didn’t say another word as they climbed the spiral staircase up to Dumbledore’s office _(the password “sherbet lemon” sounding oddly terrifying in Severus’ tone)._

“Sit.” Her father said once they were inside, his voice like a whip being brandished.

They did so hesitantly, but obediently, and sat in the chairs facing the Headmaster’s desk. They craned their necks back to look at him, Ariel waiting for her father to stand before them and explain what the hell was going on, but he stayed by the door, mumbling some kind of incantation. When he finished, her father kept his black eyes focused on it, coiled to spring like a cat.

“Dad?” Ariel tried again, this time, stronger.

“Sirius Black is inside the castle.” Her father snapped, finally answering her question, and it felt like a physical blow.

Something cold and sharp trickled down her spine. Harry looked grim instead of frightened. Her father still looked homicidal.

She knew about Death Eaters that would have done inhuman things for Voldemort. Her father had told her all about Bellatrix, and Rodolphus— but he’d never once mentioned this Sirius Black. Ariel wondered if killing all those Muggles and a wizard had been all he’d done. Surely Death Eaters had done worse— though, was there anything worse than murder?

_How had he gotten inside?_

“Are you okay?” Harry asked, breaking the silence like a hammer to glass.

Ariel and Severus looked at him at the same time. She nearly laughed— not that anything about the situation was funny…

“Well, I mean…” Harry squirmed in his chair, “Were you the one to find him? Did he attack you?”

“No.” Severus said. _I wish he had,_ his tone finished.

“What was Draco doing there?” Ariel asked, raising an eyebrow at him. She didn’t want to think about Black somewhere in the castle— how would he have even gotten _in—_

 _“He_ found him.” Severus said through gritted teeth. His eyes had gone back to the door, as though he were expecting Sirius Black himself to come bursting through it any second.

Ariel looked at Harry, alarmed, but her brother only seemed to find this interesting. His eyebrows furrowed together in a calculating expression.

Ariel frowned, the empty space in her mind tugging away. She’d never seen Severus act as such unless he was mad at her. It was… to put things in simplest terms, _scary,_ to see him acting this way towards others. He hadn’t been this way with Lucius, from what she’d seen, and _he’d_ been standing in Severus’ living room, openly threatening her.

The door opened— Severus sprang forward, wand drawn, but it was simply Dumbledore, who seemed calmer than earlier.

“They can join the other students in the Great Hall.” He said, like he was discussing the weather, “It’s been secured.”

“Did you _find him?”_ Her father demanded, the rumble of his voice vibrating through the room. Or maybe it was his anger.

“I’m afraid not.”

Something in the office— Ariel couldn’t tell what— went _ca-clink,_ like it had cracked.

“Come, Harry, Ariel.” Dumbledore wave a wrinkled hand at them, and they stood. Severus grabbed Ariel as Harry went on with the Headmaster.

“You _will_ stay in the Great Hall.” His glare made Ariel feel like she was being probed. It reminded her of right before Not-Ginny had come in last year, when Severus had told her to stay in his quarters before Tom had come…

She gulped and nodded, and they descended back down.

“Severus,” Dumbledore said in a low voice as they walked, very nonchalantly, “I need you to think clearly.”

“I am thinking very clearly, Albus.” Her father replied in that glassy voice. Ariel felt like hitting him— he wasn’t acting normally. She wanted normal Severus back.

“If I let you go,” Dumbledore paused, “I want you to promise me that you won’t do anything other than look for Black.”

Severus looked down at her and Harry— his eyes were like very long, and very dark.

“Perhaps now isn’t the best time to discuss this.” He hissed. Dumbledore made an agreeing sound.

The Great Hall was packed— all the students sitting up quietly or fast asleep, or just settling down onto what looked to be cots. Ariel wondered how McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick had managed to get everyone down here so quickly. All the tables were gone, and the ceiling were a galaxy of swirling color. She stared up at it as she walked, her head feeling like it was going to float off her shoulders any second.

“Ah, here we are.” Dumbledore gestured to two empty cots near the back of the hall. Ariel immediately recognized a patch of red hair and a bushel of brown right next to them, though they didn’t move when the approached. She could tell by how tense they looked that Ron and Hermione really weren’t sleeping.

Ariel felt like collapsing on the cot, but turned back to the Headmaster, “Thank you, Professor.”

“Anytime, my dear.” He put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Her father wasn’t looking at them, but back to the entrance.

He didn’t even spare them a backwards glance before he billowed out of the hall.

She saw Damon a row or so away as her brother settled down next to her. Harry, Ron and Hermione had already begun to whisper among themselves— Ariel noticed that her hands were shaking as she looked down at them. Damon was watching her— she could feel his eyes, seeing the blue glittering like planets in the galaxy above their heads. They reminded her of a lighthouse. When she looked back up to him, the both of them seemed to stop breathing.

His eyes never left hers, even as Ariel settled onto her cot. He’d heaved himself upright so that he was leaning on his elbows, and then he was standing and walking over to her, carrying his cot behind him—

“Damon?” Ariel whispered.

He didn’t say anything as he plopped down beside her, and without a single word to her, closed his eyes.

She let her eyes drift shut, her hand laying limp between them.

* * *

Remus could hear his heart thrumming madly in the air around him.

 _Look what you did,_ said that voice that sounded like him, but at the same time, didn’t at all, _you did this you you you._

He leaned his head against the stone wall before going back to surveying the portraits. Not telling Albus about Padfoot hadn't seemed… he hadn't trusted his judgement there, even though everything had pointed to him obviously giving up that vital piece of information. Remus shoved it to the back of his mind, and in the maddening storm he’d unknowingly walked into, with the lack of Sirius news and the run and go’s that’d come along, he hadn't thought about this possibility.

And yet, he still hadn't told Albus.

(He still _wouldn’t)_

 _But WHY,_ the voice shrieked at him.

Remus had volunteered to take the dungeons while Snape took the children up to Albus’ office, though he had a feeling that Snape was going to want to come and search himself sooner or later. He’d kept shooting him these terrible looks, like he _knew_ something Remus didn’t _(did)._

Snape found him just as he was heading towards his quarters.

He hadn’t realized what it was, at first— the illogical part of his brain had seen a giant black mass moving toward him, and his brain had said _smoke monster._ But then the shape was gripping him around the throat, holding him against the wall, it’s hooked nose inches from Remus’ face.

Remus grabbed Snape’s wrist, pushing it away— he was somehow stronger, even though Snape looked like he was ready to murder him with his bare hands. He tore backwards, his wand held high— Remus barely had enough time to remove his own from his sleeve— and put up a shielding charm just as Snape swiped at him with a bright bolt of crimson.

"I knew it," Snape whispered, his voice hoarse, "You're helping him. You let him in—” He took small steps forward with every word, his wand clenched so tightly in his hand it was shaking, his whole _body_ shaking, with tension,

"Sirius Black got into the school without any help from me," Remus said in a low voice, “After all I know, if you think for even a _second_ that I would—”

 _"Liar."_ Snape hissed, the sound ricocheting off of Remus’ eardrums, “I’m not as stupidly trusting as Albus! You haven’t given us _anything_ useful in regards to finding him— you knew they’d both be in the same place tonight— they’d be easy to find if they were _together—”_

“Then why was he in the dungeons?” The hackles on the back of Remus’ neck had raised themselves

“False trail.” There was a mad glint in his eyes— Remus wondered if this was what Snape was like when he didn’t hold back.

“I haven’t had any contact with Sirius Black since before James and Lily died.” He told him, truthfully.

“I told you,” Snape’s voice cracked like thunder, “that if you _hurt them,_ if my child gets hurt because of you and Black—”

“You seem to forget you’re not the only one who cares for their safety.”

 _“I_ forget?” He lunged again, but this time, Remus was preparing, jumping out of the way. Snape slammed into the wall and pivoted, nostrils flaring, like a bulls—

“I am not the enemy here, Severus.” Remus said, forcing his voice to stay even and calm. The _both_ of them losing their tempers wouldn’t do either of them any good.

“How the _fuck_ did he get inside the school then?” The venom in his voice was dangerously toxic.

“I don’t know.” _Liar liar liar,_ “I know as much as you do.”

 _“Liar.”_ Snape snarled, like he’d read his thoughts, “you must know _something._ For fuck’s sake, you worshipped the man for seven years!”

“I don’t.” _Liar liar liar._

He still wasn’t buying it, but there was nothing left to go on. Unless Snape caught him in the act with Sirius, which he hadn’t— _wouldn’t—_ then his murderous rage would lose its source of energy, though with someone like Snape, it didn’t take much to fire it up again. That crazed look in his eye had yet to fade. Remus wondered if he’d controlled himself around Ariel and Harry— gods, he hoped so. As if those kids needed to be traumatized even more.

 _“Rethink_ what I’ve said,” Snape drawled dangerously, “or I swear on Godric fucking Gryffindor himself—”

“You’ve made yourself quite clear, Severus.” Remus interrupted in hard voice, “And I believe I’ve done the same.”

He gave him a horrid glare, one that Remus had never found himself on the end of— had always seen it as it pointed itself at James.

And then he was gone.

“Sirius?” Remus called quietly, something inside him he didn’t know was there wishing, but the night stayed as silent and unyielding as it had ever been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’ll be uploading later again tonight :)
> 
> Please review!


	63. Hopeless Wanderer

There was nothing but the rustling of leaves surrounding Sirius, and the crisp morning air of Northern Scotland.

He’d collapsed somewhere near his usual tree just as an explosion of red was beginning to blaze in the east. He hadn’t the strength to make it all the way to his sleeping spot— physically, or mentally. Sirius’ lungs felt like they were full of ice, and his head was pounding as though a hammer was bludgeoning him into unconsciousness.

It had been a stupid fucking idea. Probably the worst one he’d ever had— maybe as bad as the day he’d lured Snivellus into the Shrieking Shack, back in their fifth year. He hadn’t regretted it— good riddance to the snooping bastard— but seeing the look of betrayal on Remus’ face had twisted his insides like glass had exploded inside of him.

It wouldn’t be the last time Sirius saw it.

The infirmary had been a long shot— but Ariel and Harry had both been asleep. In the brief pause between Little Lucius catching him and the desperation to make sure Harry was alright— he wanted to know that he wasn't dying, or something— Sirius had forgotten that the school was well guarded and that the kid would probably tell someone that a convicted murderer had been spotted.

Again, it had been a really, _really_ stupid fucking idea.  

Sirius hadn’t a clue what had happened to James’ daughter, or why she was there, but he’d sniffed around Harry a bit, and he’d seemed fine. It had been the first time he’d gotten a good enough look at him close up— he had that lightning scar the papers had always talked about. Ariel’s hair had hidden hers. She’d briefly woken up, too groggy to count as conscious, and then the sodding professors had come storming down the hall and Sirius had bolted. Dog or not, if Remus saw him, he wasn’t sure how he’d react. He’d probably kill him on the spot. Merlin knew that if Sirius found Wormtail alive somehow, that’s what he’d do.

But Peter was dead, and so were Sirius’ hopes of simply grabbing both kids and taking off. He was such a fucking idiot.

When Sirius slept, he’d dreamt of the last time he’d seen James and Lily.

_“Albus says…” James ran a hand through his unruly hair, and gave Lily a look, “He thinks that… it’s not safe if you keep coming around, Sirius. Voldemort is still looking…”_

_At this, Lily had gone a shade paler. Harry was propped up against her chest, babbling away happily, completely oblivious to the seriousness of the conversation._

_“It’s putting you in danger.” James said as Sirius opened his mouth to protest, “And… look, if it were just Lils and I, Padfoot, of course we’d say otherwise, but it’s not just us anymore.” His hazel eyes wandered to the baby in his wife’s lap, and then to the redheaded toddler stacking blocks on the floor._

_“We have to do what’s best for Harry and Ariel.” Lily said quietly, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. It felt cold, the kind of burning ice that would leave an imprint. When she pulled away, though, Sirius saw nothing out of the ordinary._

_“How long?” He asked. His face felt heavy._

_“Until Voldemort stops hunting them.” James was doing that thing with his jaw he did when he was angry, “Albus says… if this prophecy is true…”_

_Lily put a hand on his shoulder. Sirius stared at it, trying to figure out if it was a rebuke, or a gesture of comfort. Or a combination of both._

_“This is fucking ridiculous.” He snarled, and Lily shot him a look, putting her hands over her son’s ears, “Does the same thing apply to Peter?”_

_“Yes,” James nodded, looking tired and dejected, “everyone. You, Peter, Remus…”_

_Sirius had growled at the last name, thinking the unthinkable._

_“It’s for them.” Lily said quietly, her hands running through Harry’s hair, eyes on her daughter on the floor, “Everything we do from here on out, until You-Know-Who is gone, is for their sake. We can’t risk anything… not even you three.”_

He awoke to someone calling his name.

 _“Sirius!”_ It shouted as Padfoot lifted his head, shaking the fog from his mind and rising, _“Sirius Black!”_

Remus.

Sirius wondered why he hadn’t done anything about this… this _nightmare._ Granted, it would have been near impossible for a werewolf to gain custody of two infants, but he had been so sure that Dumbledore would have done _something,_ pulled some strings at the Ministry in light of the circumstances. James and Sirius had talked about what would happen, in regards to godfather-hood, and had assumed that Sirius _wouldn’t_ be thrown in prison at the time of their deaths, meaning that gaining custody of their children wouldn’t be a problem. He and Remus would raise them, together, no werewolf-strings attached.

Remus had been about as motherly as Lily— something Sirius had pointed out when things had gotten a bit out of hand— he’d half expected Remus to start wearing an apron or some shit. He’d caught him feeding Ariel when she’d been only a few months, something that Sirius had insisted was a Lily-James thing. Middle of the night things were _not_ something he considered part of the godfather job description. But then Harry had come along, and Sirius had spent more than a night in the guest room next to the nursery only to be awoken by the sound of wailing. When Sirius hadn’t heard James’ door opened, he’d begrudgingly heaved himself out of bed and done the feeding himself.

Remus had found him the third or fourth time with a knowing smirk on his face.

Well, at least Harry hadn’t confused Sirius for Lily, or the other way around. Ariel’s first word had been _Moomy,_ and Remus and Lily had spent the better part of an hour debating on whether or not she’d meant _Mummy_ or _Moony._ Harry had kept things simple with _Dada._

If Ariel was calling Snivellus _Dad,_ Sirius was going to kill him. He hadn’t decided how yet— he’d get back at Snivellus somehow— getting the kids the fuck away from him was the first move. Actually get _rid_ of the big-nose bastard was a separate issue entirely.

Sirius dove behind a nearby bush, thorns grazing over his fur, nearly drawing a pained yelp from him just as Remus broke into the clearing.

 _“SIRIUS!”_ He shouted, a surprising echo chasing the name between the trees. His amber eyes were that yellow color Sirius had only seen them turn when he was angry— which was a rare occurrence in itself.

He crouched lower to the ground, his heartbeat thumping into his ears, palpable in his throat.

“I know…” Remus was panting loudly, hunched over, “I know you’re… out here…”

He looked fucking exhausted, the rings under his eyes worse than Sirius had remembered. He looked older— forty-three instead of thirty-three.

“I must be mad to be doing this.” Remus muttered, this time, to himself, “I’m running through the Forest screaming like a bloody lunatic.”

Sirius wanted to run up to him, transform into a man again and tell him everything. He wanted to tell him about the night he’d found James and Lily dead

_Hagrid, give them to me, give Harry to me, I’m his godfather, I’ve got to find Remus—_

how he’d gone after Pete

_You coward! You bastard – Jesus fucking Christ – you killed them! YOU KILLED THEM!_

of the Aurors and Azkaban

_I killed them I killed them I killed them_

of Lucius and his words.

_The girl, however, was given to Severus_

_A Potter in Slytherin_

But Sirius couldn’t.

Not yet.

“If you’re out here.” Remus called, softer than the wind, but just as strong as a winter gale, “Stay away.”

 _Never,_ Sirius thought, and somewhere within himself, he doubted his conviction.

* * *

 

The morning after Black had broken into the castle, Harry found himself being shaken awake by Ariel, who looked just as bleary-eyed as he felt. That soon changed, however, when Harry reached for his glasses and saw Severus towering above him, like some dark, winged messenger of death.

Harry sat up abruptly, looking around at the other students. Everyone else was still fast asleep, the beginnings of early morning light filtering through the windows. The galaxy above their heads was beginning to fade, like it was being sucked into a black hole. The image made Harry feel oddly… empty.

“Did they find him?” Harry whispered as he stood, pulling on his boots.

Ariel was quickly trying to tie her thick hair back— it looked like a lion’s mane, a disgruntled look on her face. Waking her up before at _least_ nine had never reaped a good mood on her part. She looked more likely to bite than her father.

Severus’ face gave him all the answers he wanted. It was still that scary, twisted mess of muscles and flashing eyes.

“Where’re we going?” Ariel whispered instead, her eyes lingering on Damon, who Harry hadn’t realized was even there. He’d fallen asleep after telling Hermione and Ron what had happened, a few rows away from his sister. 

Severus didn’t answer that question, either. He jerked his head at them— a silent command to follow. His cloak whipped behind him, the only sound Harry could hear, save the few snores littered about the Great Hall.

Both siblings shared a knowing, dreadful look before trailing behind with as much strength as they could muster. Harry wondered how early it was, and why Severus needed to wake them up before everyone else.

“Where’re we going?” Ariel stopped short when Severus bore right instead of left— instead of down to the dungeons.

He whirled around, nostrils flaring, “I’m taking your brother back to the hospital wing, and then, _you_ are staying with me until further notice. When Madam Pomfrey deems your brother ready to resume a normal routine—”

“If I may, what’s wrong with me?” Harry interjected, crossing his arms. The last place he wanted to be right now was the infirmary.

“You fell _out of the sky.”_ Severus’ knuckles cracked as the balled at his sides, “After being exposed to Dementors and _fainting.”_

“I want to stay with Harry.” Ariel said, very matter-of-factly.

“I don’t believe I opened this for debate.” Severus snapped.

 _“I_ don’t want to go back to the hospital wing.” Harry tried.

Severus was now displaying a rather remarkable impression of a basilisk.

 _“I_ don’t care!” He seemed to grow taller as his anger flared, making Ariel and Harry cringe away unconsciously, “You will both do as you are told, without argument, or so help me, I will have you scrubbing cauldrons over the weekend.”

Ariel glared. Harry toed the floor, and fumed silently.

“Nothing more? _Splendid.”_ Severus said flatly, and began to stalk away.

“I’ll rescue you as soon as I can.” Ariel said out of the corner of her mouth to Harry as she passed him. Harry gave her an appreciative nod, and sighed. He hoped Madam Pomfrey told Severus to go away, or that he was overreacting, but then again, no one really said _no_ to him. Ever.

Once they reached the hospital wing, Severus disappeared into Madam Pomfrey’s office without a word to them. Harry looked around, finding that the hospital wing had another patient. He could see a shadow surrounded by thick curtains, and wondered who it was. Last night, the only person who had been here had been Neville because of an accident in Potions, but Harry had seen him beside Ron right before he’d fallen asleep.

“Did you see a dog in here?” Ariel asked suddenly, tearing Harry away from his thoughts.

He turned to give her a strange look, finding that her eyes were on the beds they’d occupied earlier, “A dog?”

“I could have sworn I saw one last night… big, black…” She sighed, shaking her head, “I probably dreamt it… it was right before all the professors came in, but it felt real.”

“I saw a dog a couple of weeks back…” Harry recalled, thinking back to the day he saw Damon and Draco flying together, “But who owns a dog at Hogwarts? Why would it be in the castle?”

Before Ariel could answer him, Severus and Madam Pomfrey exited her office. The medi-witch was giving Harry a look that resembled pity. Severus still looked tense— his dark eyes flickering back and forth between him and his sister.

“Come along then, Mr Potter.” Madam Pomfrey gestured to the nearest cot, “I hear tell you’re still rather weak from your incident yesterday.”

“I’m fine, ma’am.” Harry told her.

“Professor Snape feels differently.” She sent Severus a look Harry couldn’t decipher. Ariel mumbled something under her breath, and Severus put a talon-like hand on her shoulder.

 _“Watch_ him.” He said, or rather ordered, to Madam Pomfrey. He gave Harry a sideways glare, “I’ll be back later.”

Harry wanted to ask how long _later_ was— he wasn’t about to sit in the infirmary all day. He wanted to go ask Lupin about the Patronus charm Severus had told him about…

The look on Severus’ face told him anymore questions may bring about the apocalypse.

Ariel gave him a tiny wave as her father corralled her out of the hospital wing, leaving Harry alone to his thoughts, and at the mercy of bright lights and bad-tasting potions.

Though, not for long. 

The curtain drew back once Harry had settled, when Madam Pomfrey had shut herself back in her office and the light from outside told him morning had fully arrived. Harry leaned away, half expecting it to be Severus again, but it wasn’t.

It was Draco.

Harry reached for his wand instinctively— a Hex already on his lips, but Draco was faster. His wand was pointing itself right in between Harry’s eyes before he could remember the incantation for a Jellylegs Hex.

“Oh, you _sure_ got me.” Harry said flatly, his hand frozen in place, still reaching for the nightstand, “An injured, wandless bloke in the infirmary. Well? Get on with it, then, if you’ve even got the stomach for it.”

“Stuff it, Potty.” Draco sneered, and to Harry’s surprise, began to slowly lower his wand, “I’m here to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” He snapped, “Get _out.”_

 _“You_ get out!” Draco shot back.

“I am being _forced_ to _stay here_ because I fell off my sodding broom _._ What’s _your_ excuse for being here?”

“Black attacked me!”

“Really?” Harry raised an unbelieving eyebrow, “You look fine to me. What did he do, steal your hair gel?”

“He was looking for _you!”_ Draco went beet red, “I could have been killed because you and your sister have big fat targets on your backs!”

“What do you want, an apology?” Harry snapped back, “Sorry that someone’s trying to kill us— _again,_ though, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? Your father had a great run with that last year!”

A funny sort of look passed over Draco’s face at that— like a kid being caught doing something he was supposed to be. He backed away, and a look of— Harry couldn’t categorize it— it was a mixture of guilt and realization.

“I’m not here to bicker with you, Potter.” Draco tucked his wand away within the waistband of his pajamas, “I don't have the tolerance for it.”

“Neither do I.” Harry’s eyes went back to the wand beside him, “Kindly _piss off.”_

“No.” He said, with a hint of triumphant smugness, like he was enjoying this, “I’m going to do what I came over here for, as much as I loathe your presence. I finally have you where I want you.”

Well, Harry didn't like the sound of _that._ He silently prayed Severus would come back— but he was probably taking his anger out on potions ingredients by now while Ariel tried to figure out how to tame him in his state. He was acting like he had towards the end of summer again.

“We hate each other.” Draco went out, slouching against the bedpost.

Harry blinked, “Excuse me?”

“We hate each other.” He repeated, this time, in a tone that said _listen the first time, idiot._

“You say that like it’s open to negotiation.”

“I _say it,”_ Draco said in an irritated voice, “because I hate you, and I hate your sister, but I wouldn’t want you or her _dead.”_

“Oh, is that all?” Harry said sourly.

“I’m not here to make friendship bracelets with you— sorry to disappoint.”

Harry couldn't help it— he shuddered at the idea, even if it was out of sarcasm.

“So why _are_ you here then, Malfoy?” Harry let his head fall slack against the pillow in a show of annoyance, looking put-upon, “If you're here to whine about how Black almost disemboweled you or what not, I don't really care much.”

Draco’s jaw clenched, “Damon told me about what happened last year. With… what my father did… with that diary and the Chamber of Secrets… and your sister.”

His vision went a bit fuzzy as something surged inside him.

_No more dreaming of the day, as if death itself, was undone._

“Don’t you dare.” Harry lowered his voice, wondering if Madam Pomfrey had heard their conversation thus far, “Leave my sister _out of this.”_

“I could give a rat’s arse about tainting your sister’s Gryffindor badge of honor.” Draco rolled his eyes, “Damon told me why the two of you have been acting like such arseholes.”

“Yeah?” Harry leaned forward so that he was inches away from Draco’s face, “Then why bother mentioning it?”

“I haven’t spoken a word to Princess Potter since term began!” He scoffed, “If I wanted to make your lives a living hell, I would have done it already.”

“Or you’re waiting.” Harry shot back, “Which is why I’ll never give you the time of day.”

“I’m… I’ve been _trying_ to tell you something for the past two weeks.” Draco’s grey eyes sharpened, “I have information… about Black.”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat.

And then it crystallized.

“Why would I believe anything you say?” He raised a sardonic eyebrow, trying to mimic Severus’.

“It’s… consider it an…” Draco shifted uncomfortably, his revolted glare suddenly gone.

“An apology?” Harry smirked, enjoying this a bit too much.

“I’m breaking even!” Draco snapped back, “Consider it an olive branch… seeing as… what my father did nearly got Princess Potter killed.”

If Draco had actually given Harry an olive branch, he would have poured gasoline all over it, and Draco, and set a match to both.

“But you’re not your father.” Harry pointed out.

“No,” Draco said coolly, “I’m not.”

Harry didn’t know how to respond to that, so he continued to glare back at him. Whatever it was Draco wanted to tell him, he wasn’t going to believe a single word of it, but he was rather curious about what lie he’d try to spin. 

But of course, Harry wasn’t about to let Draco know that.

“So, what is it then?” Harry asked nonchalantly, “What’s this big secret you won’t leave me alone about?”

“Sirius Black was friends with your parents.” Draco said, rather bluntly, cold and uncaring, “He told the Dark Lord where they were hiding. I don’t care if you believe me or not, but I know that it _is_ a fact.”

Harry’s mind went blank, like someone had Obliviated him.

“Black was… _friends_ with my parents.” He repeated slowly.

“Apparently, like a brother to your father.” Draco went on, like he was relaying a boring story— the way Uncle Vernon had told Aunt Petunia about his days at work.

_Do I have a godfather?_

_I don’t know,_ Severus had said, his face giving way to a spam before it had twisted— the way he’d flown from the room—

 _He’s no longer with us,_ Lupin had told him.

His hands and feet had gone cold.

“Why are you telling me this?” Harry asked, not moving his lips.

“Because…” Draco hesitated, “well, after what happened last night, I think you ought to know your _godfather_ is stalking about the castle, trying to kill you.”

* * *

 

Severus hadn’t slept, and Ariel was growing increasingly concerned.

He hadn’t eaten anything either. All Severus had done was drink about three of four cups of that black coffee he liked. She thought about summoning a house elf to bring him something to eat, because decided against it. He’d probably send it back, knowing him and the kind of mood he was in. Ariel couldn’t tell if he was stressed, angry at someone, or a combination of the two.

The latter seemed more likely as she watched him from her spot on the couch. Severus was sitting at his desk, pretending, as if Ariel didn’t know how to spot him faking, to grade papers. Every once in awhile he would stop to rub at his forehead before going back to it, and that was when Ariel would glance up over the top of her Charms textbook to see his expression.

When he snapped his quill in two under the force of his grip, Ariel mentally prepared herself to initiate a conversation.

“Dad?” Ariel called to him, prepping herself for the inevitable whiplash his response would give her.

Right on cue, he snapped, _“What?”_ He didn’t even bother looking up.

“What's wrong?” She tried to soften her voice instead of getting annoyed with him. That wouldn’t get her anywhere. She was tired of arguing with everyone.

Her father’s eyes met hers, black as night. He didn’t say anything in response at first. Ariel wanted to tell him that he was freaking her out, but again, that only sounded like it would make everything worse.

“Nothing.” Was his answer, cold and crisp.

“You don’t _look_ fine.”

“Then stop _looking.”_ Her father shot back snidely.

“Is it because Black got away?” Ariel closed the book and stood, walking over to his desk.

Severus sighed, leaning back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Dad,” Ariel said, reaching forward, “we’re okay.”

Her father’s eyes opened, landing on the hand in the middle of the desk. He looked away again, but his hand closed over hers, the pad of his thumb smoothing over her palm.

“Did the Headmaster say how Black got away?” Ariel asked quietly.

“He said he had several ideas,” Severus muttered, snapping the longer half of the broken quill in his free hand, “each as unlikely as the next.”

“That’s not very helpful.” Ariel muttered.

Her father snorted, “It is, in fact, the exact opposite.”

“But… how'd he get past the Dementors? Shouldn't they have stopped him at the gates?”

“He couldn't have even gotten _that_ far,” Severus hissed, “at least, not without help.”

His eyes were watching her carefully now, glittering with an anticipation that made Ariel’s stomach turn over. Before she could decipher what he meant by _that,_ the door to their quarters opened with a deafening _BANG!_

Her father stood— leaped from his chair, actually, his hand reaching for his wand, while Ariel whirled around in her seat, but they soon relaxed at the sight of who it was.

Her brother stood in the doorway, chest heaving up and down like he'd run a marathon. His face was the color of chalk.

“You. _Lied.”_ Harry snarled, a sound that was so un-Harry-like that she nearly didn’t recognize his voice.

Her father stood up slowly, taking small steps around the desk as Ariel rose from her chair. They shared a look, her eyes wide in confusion, and Severus’ own dark and wary— and concerned.

“To whom are you referring?” Her father asked Harry in a slow and steady voice.

 _“You’ve_ been _lying_ to me!” He was trembling so badly that if Ariel didn’t know any better, she might’ve thought he’d become terribly ill, “You thought I wouldn’t figure it out, that you could just _keep this_ from me!” His eyes went straight to Ariel, the emerald in them dark and stone-like, “Did _you_ know?”

“About _wha—”_ Ariel broke off, a terrible thought dawning on her. 

He— he _couldn’t_ know… it was _impossible…_

Ariel’s heart felt as if firework show had ignited inside her chest. Had Damon told him — oh gods oh no no _no —_

“I highly doubt your sister would keep anything from you.” Severus drawled, wearing a blank mask, “Kindly directly your accusations at _me,_ not _her.”_

“You said I didn’t have a godfather.” Harry spat, “And you _lied.”_

The relief felt like a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped over her head.

And then her chest re-ignited.

“What is he talking about?” Ariel asked her father.

Severus had gone very still. Ariel imagined that if she were to reach out and touch him, he would shatter to the ground, like an icicle falling from some great height.

In the midst of the silence, Ariel studied Harry. He was blinking rapidly behind his glasses, as though he was trying to blink back tears. His lip was trembling, his hands clenched at his sides, chest heaving. She’d never seen him in such a state— never. Sure, Harry had gotten angry and upset before, but nothing like _this._ Her brother looked like someone who’d found something they’d rather have left buried.

“Ariel,” Her father finally said in a very quiet voice, “go to your room.”

“What?” She looked back to him, bewildered, “No! What is he talking about? Who’s his godfather?”

“Ariel—” Severus said again, this time, his tone much more dangerous, but Harry interrupted.

“It’s Sirius Black.” He gave a humorless laugh— cold and sharp around the edges, “Sirius Black, the _Death Eater_ trying to kill us, was named _my_ godfather.”

Her hands and feet had gone numb. When Ariel looked back to her father, he was watching Harry with a look she’d never seen him wear before. It made her chest hurt.

“That’s…” Ariel took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, “That’s ridiculous, Harry. Why would Mum and Dad have—”

“It’s the truth.” Her father cut in, with as much precision as an axe splitting wood into two.

She didn’t hear him at first— she was ready to agree with her father, but then, her brain began to work faster than her mouth, and she pivoted around to face him fully.

“What are you _talking_ about?” Ariel demanded, eyes widening, “Black was… he worked for _Voldemort!”_

“He deflected,” Severus’ eyes weren’t on her anymore, but on her brother, “from the Order, to the Dark Lord.”

Her head was spinning. A rushing roar was filling her ears—

_“You can’t expect Potter to do_ _anything right!” Lily fumed to Severus, cleaning up a mess that Ariel assumed James had made, “Him and Black… gods, I can’t stand them…”_

_“I was watching him, his nose was touching the parchment.” Said the other boy in a vicious voice that made Ariel glare at him. A crowd of people had drawn round in a wide ring. “There’ll be great grease marks all over it,” He went on, “they won’t be able to read a word.”_

She was going to be sick.

“He was friends with Dad.” Harry whispered brokenly.

When Ariel looked back to him, he was shaking even worse than before, but the anger had left his face. It had melted away like snow at the first sight of spring, leaving behind confusion and pain, hurt and questions.

_Godfather—_

“Harry…” Ariel reached for him, but was held back by a strong hand on her shoulder. She looked up to find Severus still staring at her brother with that strange look in his eyes.

“Go to your room.” He said, his voice toneless and distant.

“No,” She tried to wriggle out from under his grip, “why would I— no!”

“Ariel,” Now Severus was looking down at her, black eyes glittering, _“please.”_

The “ _please”_ wasn’t a request— it was an order, a threat, even. Ariel opened her mouth to argue, but clamped it shut when Harry’s face faltered even more so, and nodded reluctantly. Her father squeezed her shoulder tightly, eyes softening just a bit.

She walked away, looking over her shoulder to find that neither of them were watching her. Harry was a million miles away, his green eyes shining, blinding, even. Severus’ back was to her, but she could only begin to imagine what he looked like. Her chest felt empty and strangely raw.

Ariel shut the door and ripped open her desk drawer, spilling the box of pictures she kept there onto the floor.

* * *

 

Harry couldn’t think— he couldn’t _breath._ His head felt like it was full of stars, like that swirling galaxy in the Great Hall. The rest of his body felt like a great emptiness was sucking him dry.

“He killed them.” He said once Severus turned back around to face him. His face was like a pond— no ripples, no disturbances. If Harry didn’t know any better, he would have thought Severus was ignoring him.

“Who told you?” Severus asked sharply, though it wasn’t directed at him. The look in his eyes was… it was the way he’d looked at Ariel the night they’d heard the basilisk once more. Right here, in these very quarters, where they were standing.

“He _killed_ them!” Harry shouted at him, not caring that it was Snape, or that Ariel was in the next room over for some reason, which was strange, because Severus had never told her to leave before when Harry had gotten upset, never—

“Harry,” Severus’ hands were on his shoulders, “look at me.”

At the contact, he stiffened— the electricity moving through his body— at least it felt like electricity, maybe he was simply shaking, but Harry couldn’t tell— jolted to a stop. 

“It’s _not fair.”_ He whispered, his throat so tight he was sure it would choke him to death, “My parents are dead and _my_ godfather killed them.”

 _“Look at me,_ Harry.”

He couldn't. His head felt like it had been filled with led, his vision blurring in front of him.

_“Lily, it's him! Take the kids and run, I’ll try and hold him off!”_

_“No, please, not my children, take me instead, not them!”_

That had been because of _Black—_ someone they’d _trusted._ Lupin had abandoned Ariel, but Black had tried to kill Harry. He heard his mum being murdered because of _Sirius Black._

“I had a right to know!” Harry felt his fury roil inside his chest, “It wasn’t just Voldemort… it was Black too!”

“It was.”

He wanted to hit Severus— he hated the placating responses he was getting— he wanted to throw his fists forward and scream, because Black had been his parent’s _friend_ and _so had Severus._ He would have known, Lupin too, and no one had _told him._

“He should have died instead of them.” Harry whispered to the floor, “Draco said… he said Black sold them out…”

Severus had stopped talking, and before Harry could remember that he _couldn’t_ look at Severus, his head tilted up. Something hot was running down his cheeks.

Severus was looking at him the way he looked at his sister when she wasn’t watching. His hand curled around Harry’s shoulder, and suddenly, he was leaning towards him, his head coming to rest against his sternum.

“Let it out, child.” Severus told him.

Harry buried his face against his robes, hands curling around them tightly, and he had no choice but to obey.

* * *

 

The boy wept, and inside of himself, in the dark place Severus kept the most secret parts of himself, something clawed away like nails on a windowpane.

It was the cry of a child. Of course, Severus found that he no longer in him to deliver such a crushing blow to Lily’s children, but the look on Harry’s face had told him words would be of little comfort, given the circumstances. After everything that had transpired within the past several days, it was a wonder the boy wasn’t catatonic.

Harry reminded him of the way Lily had gotten upset— all at once, and frighteningly so. Severus had really been the only one privy to her outbursts, and as he’d gotten older, he’d realized _that_ had been because he was the only one who could match her in intensity. He’d thrown a snow globe— a Muggle trinket of some kind— across the room once; another time, Lily had chucked a library textbook passed his head.

Of course, comfort wasn’t Severus’ specialty, but in this case, he didn’t want the boy to go catatonic.

Severus had seen it in the boy’s face— that desperate cry he'd caught glimpses of here and there. Of a child yearning, wanting more from him, and Severus didn't know how to give it. With Ariel, she’d done most of the work. Caring for the girl had been a completely different kind of territory. Harry was older, not the small thing Ariel had been— wide-eyed and innocent and unknowing.

 _He killed my parents,_ the boy had cried, and something inside Severus had said, _so did you._

Severus was going to strangle Malfoy, when and if he got his hands on Lucius’ darling heir. He could only imagine Lucius droning on to Narcissa from his study, over afternoon tea, only to have one of the little brats listening from the other room.

When Harry had quieted, Severus slowly unwrapped his arm from around him to try and see his face. It was buried against his robes— he could feel Harry’s tears seeping through his clothes, and something distant in him felt disgusted by this.

“I take it you escaped while Madam Pomfrey wasn’t looking?” Severus sighed, his hand resting atop the boy’s head.

The was a mumble of words he couldn’t decipher.

“In English, if you’d please.”

“I put a slug-vomiting charm on Draco,” Harry turned his head so that Severus couldn’t see his face, but was still resting against him, “as a distraction.”

“Of course you did.” It was creative, Severus would give him that, “As disruptive as the sound of Malfoy regurgitating slugs must be, you’re still not well. You need sleep.”

“He can stay in my room.” Ariel’s voice said.

He turned, finding her standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. Her face was hard, pieces of her confusion peeking through.

“Come,” Severus told Harry quietly, and the boy finally peered up at him. Lily’s green eyes were angry, but the rest of his face was tired and broken.

He couldn’t tell if Harry was consciously leaning into him, or if he was just _that_ exhausted as he led him through the doorway of Ariel’s bedroom. She watched, not saying anything. She was biting her lip so hard that it was a wonder it didn’t split open. Only once the boy laid down on the bed did Ariel move, taking off his boots gently. Severus stood back, watching Ariel watch Harry, who curled up into himself and turned away from the both of them.

“Harry?” She asked quietly, reaching a hand towards him, but Severus put a rebuking hand on her arm, and prodded her gently from the room.

When the door shut behind him, he quickly put up a Silencing spell, because if Severus knew anything, it was that his daughter was going to be livid.

“Is he okay?” Ariel was like a hurricane, her hair, her robes, her expression, “What did you _do_ to him?”

“Ariel…” Severus pinched the bridge of his nose.

“How did he even find _out?_ Who _told_ him?”

“Ariel Rose Potter,” He grabbed the sides of her face and gave her a sharp look, _“enough!”_

 _“Enough?”_ She echoed in disbelief, tearing away from him. If she started crying, Severus was going to break something.

Ariel looked away, like she’d had a sudden realization. She reached into her robe pockets, and shoved something at him, “He’s in _pictures!_ I… I asked you who he was when I was younger and you _never told me!”_

Severus knew what it was— he’d considered burning it when he’d caught a glimpse of it _(Daddy, was this their wedding? Who’s that man?)_ — and now, as it fell against him, he made no move to touch it— he _wouldn’t, knowing_ what was imprinted on the paper.

Lily's wedding picture fell to the floor, while the one of her on the mantle stared at him with watchful eyes.

“Is it true?” Ariel squared her chin, bottom lip trembling, “Did Black kill them? Was he their friend?”

_He had been her friend and he had killed her you too Severus Snape_

Severus massaged his temple forcefully, “Sit down, Ariel.”

“No! _Tell_ me—”

“I _will_ tell you,” Severus felt this last of his composure slipping, “if you _sit down_ and _shut up.”_

Ariel flinched, hurt filling her dark eyes before a perfect mask of defiance overtook her expression. She did what she was told stiffly, her body reacting to the seat like she’d sat down atop a cactus.

“Black was your parent’s Secret Keeper.” He said when Ariel failed to speak, “They were under the protection of the Fidelius— an incredibly powerful, if not _the_ most powerful, protection charm. No one can find you once the spell is cast, save your Secret Keeper, who must willingly divulge the location to another in order to break it. Black betrayed your mother and Potter and told the Dark Lord where they were. Afterwards, Pettigrew, who was also a close friend of Potter’s, went after Black in a rage, and Black murdered him and twelve Muggles who just so happened to be nearby and in range of the spell.”

She looked dazed, like she was about to stumble backwards, “He… he was friends… with James? And Mum?”

“He was _Potter’s_ friend— more so than your mother’s.”

“And he’s…” Her eyes flitted to the floor, “the man in that picture?”

“He is.”

Ariel’s eyes looked back to them, and somehow, became even darker.

“How _could_ you?” She was fuming, her face as scarlet as her hair.

“Does it _help you any?”_ Severus snarled back, “Do you feel any _better_ for knowing it, now? Your brother _doesn’t.”_

“You should have told him.” Her anger was gaining ground above the hurt and pain in her face, “Harry asked you and you _lied_ to him, to me! What did you think, that he’d never figure it out?”

“I expected Black to be caught and forgotten about! How does _knowing_ do _anything_ for either of you, save causing you heartache? Does it numb your _unhappiness?”_

“You’re going to make this about _protecting us?_ Why do you keep lying to him?”

Dumbfounded, Severus did all but gape at her, _“Lie to him?_ What in Merlin's name are you _referring_ to?”

“We’re… we’re lying about me and you.” Her hands were combing through her hair, like they always did when Ariel became overwhelmed, “Us. And then mum. And James. Now this Sirius Black—”

“You’re double talking, Ariel.”

“How did _you_ not know?” Her voice was beginning to shake, “You’re a Death Eater, just like Black? Didn’t you _know?”_

His heart began to beat to a panicked new rhythm before it twisted sharply.

“I stopped being a Death Eater the day the Dark Lord began targeting your mother.” Severus said in a cold voice, one he felt deep in his bones, “None of us knew who his spy was. The Dark Lord kept the identity of his mole a secret, as he did with most of his Death Eaters.” 

Her face flickered, and then the fire in it began to burn away, crumple to nothing but ash.

 _“That’s_ why you hate Lupin, isn’t it?” She asked quietly, “You think _both_ of our godfathers are trying to kill us.”

“He’s not trying to kill you.” Severus snapped, “If he was, I assure you that he would no longer be an issue.”

“So then, why were you acting so weird last night? When Black came inside the castle? Dumbledore— he told you to only look for Black— he really meant to leave Lupin alone, didn’t he?”

He wanted to scream. Severus could feel his control slowly slipping as his anger flared, like a kettle on the verge of boiling water. Ariel was asking questions he didn’t want to answer, _couldn’t,_ because it would upset her far more than him telling her the truth. Last night, all he had heard inside his mind was _find him where had he gone find him where where where had he gone…_

“What would you do to Lupin?” Ariel asked, “To Black?”

Everything he’d done, would do, was for her. If Ariel, if Lily, had gone to hell, he’d have stayed and burned with them. Severus had gone to that dark place, felt himself slipping as Lupin’s influence seeped into the halls, as Black waited, _waited—_

“Everything I do,” Severus leaned forward so that he was gripping both sides of the chair, caging her in, “is to keep you _safe.”_

“You didn’t _hurt_ Lupin, did you?” Her eyes widened in horror, and his chest burned against her, against himself and the werewolf and Black and James _fucking_ Potter, who had blindly trusted him—

No— he hadn’t hurt Lupin, _much._ Dumbledore would have killed him if he’d done dark magic inside of Hogwarts.

“I didn’t hurt your godfather.” He said flatly, “I wouldn’t do so without probable cause.”

“You don’t need probably cause, most of the time.” Ariel muttered, casting her gaze to the ground, “Like Black, who betrayed my parents for no sodding reason.”

Severus couldn’t help it— the phrase _my parents—_ not _mum_ and _James—_ put a bad taste in his mouth. He glared down at her, emotions unravelling behind his shields, and reminded himself that he had a sleeping child in the other room, and one who hadn’t her wits fully about her.

“Who told him?” She asked quietly, not meeting his eyes. The look on her face told Severus she was done with the conversation, and quite possibly with him.

“Draco.” Severus answered, straightening up to lean against the desk.

“Arsehole.” Ariel growled.

He gave her a look.

She rose from the chair, her jaw set and eyes flashing.

 _“Where_ are you going?” Severus asked, trying to formulate her response so he could retaliate properly. His mind began to formulate a plan to stop her, but in her state, he wondered if it was best to let her go. He believed that she wouldn’t go looking for Black, but feared she’d seek out Lupin for more information.

“To find Damon.” Ariel answered— there was a threatening quality in her tone, “And, I’m mad at you.”

Ah, yes. Well, it only made sense that if Lucius’ son knew, then Bellatrix’s satanic seed knew as well.

… As for the other comment, Severus pretended that his chest didn’t tighten at her words.

“If I let you go,” Severus’ eyes narrowed dangerously, “promise me you’re not going to out to that god-forsaken rock.”

“Fine, I promise.” Ariel looked him in the eye, and he knew that she meant it. She was many things, but with the infiltration last night, Severus knew she wouldn’t be recklessly stupid after this.

_(Why the fuck was he letting her leave?)_

_And,_ he’d be following her. Constantly. Until Black was found. With Harry asleep, all Severus would have to do was cast a monitoring charm on him to alert him to when he awoke, and the girl would be within his sights, making sure she wasn’t being dishonest.

“And I want your word,” Severus grabbed her by the arm as she turned away, grabbing her chin with the other, “that you won’t go looking for Black.” 

She seemed startled, but quickly composed herself and stared back evenly.

“Why would I look for someone,” Ariel asked coldly, “who’s trying to kill me?”


	64. Roll Away Your Stone

She wanted to Hex someone.

As Ariel practically ran through the winding corridors of the dungeons and back up to the main floor, she found herself with a one-minded focus. It was driving her forward, feeding the growing flame inside of her.

All Ariel could think of was the smiling, jeering boy in the memories her father had shown her two years ago— had it already been that long? He’d been like James’ sidekick, always by his side, retained enough so that even she had taken notice to his presence. Ariel didn’t know anything about this Sirius Black, other than the fact that he was a Death Eater, but how hadn’t James _known?_ Had there been a change, a shift? How did someone betray someone so close? She tried to imagine what it would feel like if Damon did something like that—

Only, he sort of had – her chest tightened.

Ariel didn’t get mad like Harry did. When her brother _was_ pissed, he was a sight to behold, though those occurrences were few and far between. When Ariel got mad, she Hexed squirrels by accident and put out fires on the trees she singed in the Forbidden Forest.

No— _this_ time, Ariel was going to use her anger and growing boldness to get something done. 

She found who she was looking for in his usual spot, though Ariel hadn’t dared go there for the past week. Her and Damon had several established meeting spots by this point, one of them being _“her”_ rock, another an alcove near the Astronomy tower, the very one Ariel and Harry had seen Severus threatening Quirrell her second year. _This_ one was in the very back of the library on a couple of old couches Ariel had never seen anyone else use.

Damon was sitting on the couch pushed up against a half empty bookcase. Ariel and him had gone through the books around there one day, finding that they were theoretical texts on binding a soul to another. It was all very confusing to her, and it hadn’t made much sense.

“How much longer?” Ariel demanded, putting her hands on her hips.

“You’re going to have to be more specific.” Damon didn’t look up at her, and with a rush of anger, Ariel was reminded of her father’s demeanor from earlier.

“You want to hate me?” She snapped, _“Fine._ I get it. I said something terrible, and you’re mad at me— but I _do_ deserve to know _why_ the hell you kept my brother’s godfather’s identity from him and let your filthy ferret of a cousin break the news to him.”

Damon looked up, his face a mixture of smug and relieved, “Harry finally let Draco talk to him?”

“Yes, but that’s not the _point—”_

“How’d he take it?”

“How do you _THINK_ he took it?” Ariel exploded, “How _dare_ you treat this like a joke!”

“I didn’t know.” Damon shrugged, seemingly indifferent, “Draco told me a week or so ago. All I knew is that he had something he wanted to tell Harry.”

“You didn’t _know?”_ She repeated back in disbelief, “I’m sorry— you _do_ live with the Malfoy family, don’t you?”

“I don’t eavesdrop on my uncle. _Draco_ does, however.”

“Really.” Ariel said flatly, “And you just, what, didn’t get the memo like the rest of us?”

“I’m still not talking to you.” He fanned his book, like the conversation was boring him, “You’re going to have to take that up with Draco.”

Her face flushed crimson, “You want _me,_ to take up the fact that my _brother’s godfather murdered our parents,_ with the son of the man who tried to murder me last year?”

Damon winced, but didn’t look back up at her.

“And you _still_ didn’t tell me?” Ariel hissed, a budding crescendo building inside her chest.

It wasn’t necessarily directed at _him,_ but between Black, who had murdered her mum and James, her father, who had lied, _again,_ Lupin, who probably fucking _knew too,_ and Harry’s face back in her father’s quarters…

“Yes, well,” Damon shifted in his chair, his blue eyes going back to his book, “by the time I did know, I was mad at you… and Draco was getting fed up with Harry not giving him the time of day.”

“I’m sorry for what I said to you— really, I am.” She slowly crept towards him, hands clenching at her sides, “But letting your _cousin_ break the news about something like this… I thought you were my _friend!_ If you wanted to hurt me back, fine, give it your best damn shot, but Harry did nothing wrong here!”

He held up his hands in surrender, “Alright, I’m sorry, I get it.”

_“Do_ you?” Ariel snapped.

Damon stood, tossing the book onto the couch, “I’m not trying to hurt you, Ariel.”

“Really?” She snorted humorlessly, “You could’ve fooled me!”

“I wanted you to give Draco a chance!”

“You’ve got _some nerve—”_

“Listen!” He put a finger to her lips. Ariel felt her glare deepen. “Draco wanted the… opportunity.”

“What the _hell_ are you—”

“Come with me.” Damon grabbed her by the hand and began to drag her away. Ariel let out a cry of protest, but quickly swallowed it and let him guide her out of the library and up several staircases. He didn’t say anything, and neither did she. Quite frankly, Ariel was secretly overjoyed that he was willingly speaking to her, even if she wanted to Hex him through a wall.

They stopped on the fifth landing, for which Ariel was grateful. She was panting as Damon pulled her onward, a complaint on her lips as they rounded the corridor at the end of the hall.

He gave her a look that said, _“watch and learn,”_ letting go of her. Damon then pressed his hand against the stone, and an opening appeared in the wall, sunlight shining through. 

Ariel blinked in surprise as she followed him blindly inside, the bright light making her squint. After her eyes adjusted to the change, they widened in shock.

It was a garden, in the _middle_ of Hogwarts.

She’d never seen it before, but that was the last thing on her mind as she looked around. It was an explosion of color amongst stone and grey skies— pinks and reds and yellows and greens. Ariel almost didn’t believe her eyes— it was like a mirage. Roses and poppies and daisies, and over in the middle, a large tree— Ariel couldn't tell what kind. Floral smells wafted through the air— she could even hear a bird chirping away, somewhere.

And… even as Ariel looked around and saw no one else in the garden, she could have sworn she felt a pair of eyes on the both of them. When she turned back to the sliding door, it was just sliding back into place, cutting them off from the rest of the castle.

“What is this place?” Ariel grumbled, trying to sound irritated instead of curious and awestruck. 

“I shit you not,” He turned and gave her a smirk, “they call it the Garden of Eden.”

She raised an eyebrow, “I’ve lived here almost my entire life, and I’ve never once heard of it.”

“It’s a place for talking when you don’t want to be heard. Once someone goes in, unless another is invited, no one else can enter. It’s to make sure there’s no eavesdroppers.”

“Why do they call it the Garden of Eden, then?”

“Apparently,” Damon looked around with critical eyes, “Slytherin and Hufflepuff built it… have you read the Muggle bible?”

Ariel had a brief mental image of Severus preaching from a hilltop. She nearly burst out laughing.

Her lips twitched, “I can’t say that I have.”

“We talked about mythology briefly,” Damon sat down on the bench, stretching, “or, at least, my tutor called Muggle religion mythology. I find God to be a bit… lacking.”

“Fascinating.” Ariel said flatly, “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“It’s a long story— the Garden of Eden. Just know it’s where secrets were kept and told, and that two people ended up screwing all of us over, in the end. Slytherin and Hufflepuff built this place in order to ensure that privacy could be guaranteed.” He was lying flat against the bench now, picking leaves off of a bush directly behind his head, “Do you believe in God?”

“I’m not afraid of a god, I’m afraid of people.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Ariel snorted, and then, frowned, “How’d you find this place?”

“Guess.” Damon rolled his eyes.

It took Ariel moment, and then, she scowled, “So your uncle tells you about secret gardens but not murderous godfathers?”

“He doesn’t trust me with certain things.” He said in a strange voice, one Ariel couldn't identify.

“The way you don't trust me,” She asked, “or they way I shouldn't have trusted you?”

“You _can_ trust me.” Damon sat up, blue eyes flashing, “That's what I was trying to tell you before you… well, before we had our row.”

“Then why were you ignoring me before then?” Ariel bit her lip, trying to reign in her anger and distance herself from her hurt feelings, “The day of the Boggart lesson, I looked everywhere and… and you were out with Draco! You’ve _never_ spend time with him here! You two bicker all the time!”

“Well…” Damon hesitated, his face suddenly wary, “Are you actually going to listen, or are you just going to yell at me again?”

A little voice inside her head that sounded an awful lot like Severus said _I had every right to be mad you prat,_ but Ariel nodded mutely and joined him on the bench, crossing her arms and trying to look attentive instead of tense.

“Right,” Damon cleared his throat, “well, this may come as a shock to you, but Draco hasn't always been an unbearable— what did you call him before? A ferret? Very creative.”

Ariel rolled her eyes, “Please, continue. Your opening statement had me intrigued.”

“We were close when we were younger.” He voiced quieted, a chilly fall breeze tousling their hair, “Lucius wasn’t around much from what I can remember— it was just Draco and I, and the house elves. Narcissa was around sometimes… but she kept herself busy with other things… I think it was a way of distracting her from all the stuff that happened during the war. It wasn’t until we got older that Lucius sat Draco and I down and told us how things were for Purebloods— how people like us would have the world at our fingertips, and how the Dark Lord was someone to be revered.

“I mean… there _were_ things when we were little… Lucius used to beat the shit out of the house elves— we have this one called Dobby he likes to pick on especially— and Draco picked up on that quickly. I didn’t pay it any mind… I thought there was something wrong with me. I thought that… because I didn’t _like_ being cruel, that that meant I wasn’t meant for whatever great destiny Lucius had rolled out for us. But then I realized after a while that Draco didn’t like it either— I heard him crying after Lucius made him kick Dobby once.

“Draco… he thinks the world and more of Lucius, but he’s frightened of him too, I think. After what happened with you and that diary…” Damon cleared his throat, and Ariel shivered, “Well, Lucius wasn’t exactly… _pleasant_ to be around when we returned home for the summer. A night or so after we got back, I heard Lucius shouting at Draco— he almost hit him, which he’d never done before. Narcissa stopped him before anything happened— _she_ nearly beat the daylights out of _Lucius_ for that— but Draco was really shaken up afterwards.

“I couldn’t tell him how I felt before… he needed to see the side of Lucius and be on the receiving end. When I came to Hogwarts and met you, I didn’t tell him, because he wouldn’t have understood. We didn’t talk the entire summer after Harry’s first year— he was too angry at me for befriending you two and not telling him. I think Draco was hoping to make Harry _his,_ but obviously, he botched that. After Lucius lost it that night… I realized that I had an opportunity to get Draco to see that all this… this talk of the Dark Lord and what he’d _really_ done…”

“He was horrified.” Damon said softly, blue eyes looking up to meet hers, the emotion in them clear as crystal, “I mean… listen, Draco isn’t exactly your biggest fan, but he had no idea Lucius tried to _murder_ you. That his _father_ was the reason a giant monster snake was out attacking Muggleborns. I think… he held him in higher regards than murder.” He looked up at the dark sky, swirling with clouds— it would rain later, most likely, “So, no, I wasn’t trying to betray your trust. I wasn’t trying to give Draco ammunition against you and Harry. I saw a chance, and I took it. I’m sorry if… if you don’t trust my judgement, I can see that now. I should have asked you first… but if I hadn’t done it then…”

“What made you different?” Ariel interrupted, craning her head to try and get Damon to look back at her, but he wouldn’t, “Did Lucius do something like that to you when you were younger? Did he _hurt you?”_

Damon didn’t answer. He picked a leaf off of the bush growing off the right side of the bench they were sitting on and ground it between his fingers.

“Damon…” She reached a hand towards him, but he shied away. Ariel sighed, folding her hands back into her lap, “I’m sorry for what I said about your mum. I let my temper get away from me. I should have listened to you. I _do_ trust you. You're my best friend…”

“There’s a but.” Damon turned and gave her a wry smile.

“But I still need need _something_ from you, Damon.” Ariel told him evenly.

“What do you want?” His tone was light, but his expression oddly… frightened.

“I want you to tell me what my dad did to Lucius that day on the rock.”

Damon went stiff, “You… _really_ don't want to…”

“I do.” She said seriously, “I… he's been acting strange lately, with all this Black business, and my godfather teaching here.”

“He _has_ been dreadful lately.” Damon frowned, “Did you hear he tried to poison Longbottom’s toad?”

Something inside her shook at this, but she wasn't surprised. Ariel didn't know which emotion to be disturbed by.

“Why don’t you want to tell me?” She asked him, crossing her arms.

“Because,” He hesitated, “I don’t think you _want_ to know.”

“Isn’t that why I’m asking?”

“You don’t know what you’re asking _for.”_

“You’re double-talking, Damon.” said Ariel, quoting her father from earlier.

“Yes,” He agreed, “I am.”

Ariel glared at him — Damon sighed and turned away again, twisting his hands together.

“He… _please_ don’t tell him you know.” He gave her a pleading look, “I like living, thank you very much.”

“Secrets _do_ work both ways for us, Damon, even if you don’t trust me with half of yours.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she held up a hand, “I’m not an idiot. I won’t breathe a word of this to my dad, the same way you haven’t said anything to Harry about him _being_ my dad.”

“I like how either way, my intestines will still be used to strangle me to death.” He said flatly.

Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head, “Are you kidding me? If he knew I told you…” Ariel shuddered, “I don’t even want to think about it.”

Damon breathed out through his nose and gave her a long look, “Snape… in his defense, Ariel, I don’t think he was in a good frame of mind when he went to talk to Lucius.”

“The same way Draco wasn’t aware of what he was parroting?” Ariel brought her knees up to her chin, “Just tell me, Damon. I’m sick and tired of not knowing what the hell is going through people’s heads around here.”

Damon took a deep breath, paused, and then spoke, “Well, he tortured him for a minute— they went back and forth, and then Snape started saying this stuff in Latin— it was a spell I couldn’t recognize. Then he used the Imperius on him and told him to go home and forget that it happened. He didn’t… _seem_ any different when I got home. He obviously didn’t remember, because Narcissa wrote to Snape about potions for her migraines… she gets those real bad.”

Ariel had gone very still.

_I was a Death Eater, Ariel—_

No no _no._ She shoved _that_ thought into the empty space Tom had left her with.

“He used an Unforgivable?” Ariel whispered, her lips not moving.

When she looked back to Damon, he was looking at her with a thoughtful, yet concerned expression.

He’d been trying to protect her— he’d been _livid—_ and frightened, in that Severus-way that had made her feel isolated at times as a child, and hurt and angry as Ariel had gotten older. But to use an _Unforgivable…_

Well… now she had a better idea as to why Dumbledore wouldn’t give him the Defense position.

“Thank you,” Ariel said quietly, “for telling me.”

“Are you—”

“I’m fine.” She said shortly— she wasn’t, she wanted to scream at her father for this, and then for not telling Harry about Black, but she could do neither.

Damon jerked his head in a way that disagreed with her, but he said no more on the matter, “Will you give Draco a chance, then?”

Her head was filling with fog— it took Ariel a moment to respond, “He hates my guts, Damon. It seems like he wants to be Harry’s friend than mine, if anything. He’s been pestering him for the past three weeks.”

“Once Harry sees, he’ll follow through.” A hopeful light was burning behind his blue eyes.

Ariel didn’t answer. Instead, she let the scenery overcome her, layer over the growing storm inside of her head, and rested her head on Damon’s shoulder. She could feel his surprise— but he didn’t object. He never did.

“I am sorry,” She said, “about your mum. It must be horrible, to be afraid or someone who should love you.”

_“‘Should,’”_ said Damon. “is the reason why.”

* * *

 

Harry rubbed at his eyes, echoes of his nightmare still ringing in his ears.

He’d been walking about in the dark, unable to see a thing in front of him. Black had laughed somewhere behind him, though Harry had never once heard his voice. It the distance, he’d heard his parent’s screams— a cold, high shout of _“Avada Kedavra!”_

It had left him feeling hollow— his chest hurt, like claws had reached inside of him and stretched out his organs.

Harry rose slowly from Ariel’s bed, noticing how his hands still shook. He wanted to go back to bed and curl into a ball until the end of time, but Harry wasn’t about to do that in _Snape’s_ quarters— the liar. He wasn’t a little kid anymore. He had a _right_ to know that Black had killed his parents.

He had wondered then, about the man named his godfather. Harry had never had a godfather, not even one that had wanted him dead, but he had a pretty good idea of the responsibilities that came along with the title. They were _supposed_ to take the kids if the parent’s died.

Snape had been friends with Lily, but he hadn’t been named Ariel’s godfather. So why, when Harry’s godfather had been locked up in Azkaban, had _Ariel_ gotten to go and live with someone who didn’t hate her? Lupin had tapped out. Black had murdered his parents.

Dursleys.

_Snape._

Harry knew the reasoning— that they had to be separated for their own safety—  though, admittedly, that line was beginning to sound rather old as his parent’s last words rang in his ears. It made less sense, the more and more Harry thought about it.

He had to get out of here. If he stayed in Ariel’s room another minute, he was going to go completely and utterly mad.

No sooner had Harry opened the door was he taken surprise. Severus seemed to be returning as well, slamming the door to his quarters with a forceful _BANG._ His expression was stone cold, unabashed fury reigning from every surface of his face.

When he saw Harry, however, it disappeared, leaving behind nothing but weariness.

Harry glared at him. Severus was studying him with the kind of scrutiny that had used to make him squirm, but after living with the man for over two months, Harry had developed a kind of resistance to it, like his sister did.

The acorn in his pocket, which he’d kept with him since the day he’d taken it, burned against his hand.

“How do you feel?” Severus asked, stepping forward slowly.

“Like I got hit by a car.” Harry answered truthfully.

“How oddly Muggle-ish,” He said dryly, “seeing as you live in a magic school.”

“And now I want to leave.” Harry crossed his arms tightly.

Severus raised an eyebrow, mirroring his posture for a moment. Then, he gestured to the couch in front of the fireplace, “Sit down.”

“No.” Harry said, eyes locking on the door.

_“No?”_ Severus echoed in a dangerous voice.

“You lied to me,” He said, “And now I want to leave.”

“You’re not going _anywhere.”_ Severus snapped, “Sit _down,_ Mr Potter.”

Harry tried to match the glare burning a head in his forehead, but decided that challenging Severus in the fury-department— an area Severus was _very_ skilled in— would leave Harry a scorch mark on the wall by the end, not matter how badly the professor felt bad for him. No that Severus holding him had—

Oh gods… he’d _cried—_ and Severus had—

Suddenly, Harry felt like he was going to be sick.

He couldn’t remember a time when anyone had held him, when anyone had _hugged_ him. Sure, Ariel threw herself at him from time to time, but that was different. She was his sister. Ariel was always touchy-feely. Aunt Petunia had always _hated_ when Harry had touched her, and Severus had hated his _guts_ … even if he’d found Harry upset when he’d been little, he’d never touched him. Harry had never expected Severus to ever comfort _him,_ especially after the way he’d come in earlier and shouted at him.

“Harry?” Severus was frowning now, probably at the expression on his face.

“I want to leave.” He said again, feeling very much like a cornered animal.

Severus crossed the room in two long strides, and before Harry could back off, there was a hand on his forehead, “You’re clammy. I want you to rest— sit down, boy, catch your breath. You need a Nutriance potion.”

“No, what I _need_ is to—”

“Leave, yes, you’ve said that.” Severus put a firm hand on his shoulder.

Harry’s legs felt like jello as he was guided over to the couches, falling against the cushions in idle defeat. Severus disappeared into his private stores while a small part of Harry’s mind still tugged at him to make a run for it. He was too mortified— but still thoroughly pissed— to try and do something that would only make the situation a whole lot worse.

When Severus returned, he was holding two potions— Harry only recognized one as a Calming Draught. He assumed the other was the Nutriance potion. It was dark green, like moss, and looked absolutely disgusting.

“Drink.” Severus commanded softly, and Harry did so obediently. He made a face at the Nutriance potion, as he guessed he would. It tasted like rabbit food.

The Calming Draught wasn’t much better— it made him feel oddly sluggish, liked he’d been wrapped in clouds— or drugged. Hermione had told him once if you really fought the effects, it’d just make you feel tired.

“Better?” Severus asked, setting the vials down on the coffee table.

“No.” Harry said, flexing his hands and trying to fight off the impending wave of forced calm. He hated it— wanted to stay angry— wanted to hate Black and hate Snape for lying to his face back in August, when he’d _asked_ and _no one had told him._

“It would not have changed anything, Harry.” Severus sat down beside him— Harry wanted to shove him away, get him _far away he wanted to leave he wanted to—_

“You could have told me.” He muttered, trying to ignite a fire on the floor with his glare.

“I could have, but what would that have accomplished?”

“He’s my _godfather!”_ Harry looked up angrily— Severus’ eyes were dark and cold, so unlike his voice, “I have a _right_ to know!”

“Does it make you feel any better?” He asked in a voice void of any emotion, _“Knowing?_ Does it change anything?”

“I got shipped off to the Dursleys, away from my sister,” Harry croaked, “and now my godfather wants me dead. So no, maybe it doesn’t change what I already knew, but it _matters.”_

“He is not the man your parents made your godfather.” Severus said, “Who he is, and what he became is not your fault.”

_“Lupin_ didn’t try to kill us!” Harry snapped, _“Lupin_ left— Ariel _had_ that chance with him, but he just up and left her! Black turned against them! Some friends _they_ had, huh?”

Severus frowned, though it looked more like a scowl, as it always did when Lupin was mentioned, “Lupin is a separate matter entirely. I don’t trust him, no, but he is a different variable.”

He was lying again. Harry could hear it in his voice— it was hard for Severus to keep any amount of distaste and revulsion hidden when he talked about James or Lupin, and since they’d both been friends, it was suddenly very clear to Harry that Severus considered Black and Lupin to be one and the same somehow.

“So then _why,”_ Harry could feel something simmering below the effects of the Calming Draught, “did Ariel go to _you?”_

Severus’ face seemed to melt away. All the annoyance and infuriating mask left, leaving behind uncertainty and…

No— Harry wasn’t playing the pity card. He’d gotten enough of that when he’d been living with the Dursleys— before they’d gotten to his teachers and told them he was a degenerate. He was simply asking _questions,_ since he’d been denied them for so long, and Severus wasn’t in a position to be refusing him.

The Slytherin would have smiled coyly, had Harry not felt a newfound sense of abandonment.

“Why does nobody want me?” He whispered to himself, no longer aware of Severus in the room. He was back in the cupboard with the Muggle picture of his mum and dad and sister, listening to Aunt Petunia doting on Dudley and Uncle Vernon making plans for a family weekend, and what to do with the _boy—_

There was a hand on his knee. When Harry looked back up, Severus was searching his eyes with a scorching intensity he'd seen on his face when Ariel had been recovering after Riddle.

“You _are_ wanted, child.” He said in a strong voice— the hand on his knee tightened— “There are people here who have waited for you— you have an entire world at your feet. Don’t you realize that, Harry?”

Yes, but not in the way Harry wanted, or needed. He wanted to cry again, but the Calming Draught wouldn’t let him. Why the hell had he taken it?

“It’s not the same.” Harry muttered.

“Your sister would beg to differ.”

He was… right. Ariel _had_ saved him from the Dursleys. Harry hadn’t thought about it like that— he’d always thought of it as a miraculous event— that Ariel had been waiting for him, and Ron, and the Weasleys, but she hadn’t. Damon had told him Ariel had _fought_ to go and get him…

Snape hadn’t, however. He’d watched… content to keeping Ariel to himself, like she was property.

“I wish Black had died instead of them.” Harry said bitterly, biting his lip. He wanted to scream through the Calming Draught’s glass surface, because everyone, Snape and Lupin and Dumbledore and Black hadn’t done a damn thing to help his mum and dad, hadn’t told him and Ariel the truth a day in their lives.

At least he had his sister. Without her lost in the dark with him, he’d have fallen and not been able to get up.

Snape cleared his throat loudly. Harry looked back up to find him looking into the fireplace. “You understand that… your sister… the idea of fatherhood was… incredibly appealing to me, after your parent’s deaths. The Headmaster thought I would be able to protect her, and who was I to turn away an opportunity at redemption?”

“Redemption?” Harry asked, now confused, “For what?”

He looked back to his hand, still grasping Harry’s leg, which had stopped trembling. It seemed like he was contemplating moving it or not.

“My point,” Snape said quietly, ignoring Harry’s question, “is that you were never unwanted to anyone, save those fil— _Muggles.”_

“But why were they my second option? Why didn’t I go to live with someone who _wanted_ me, like you wanted Ariel? Lupin didn’t want Ariel— Black tried to _kill us.”_

“The answer to your question is not so simple, child.” Snape sighed, and Harry could feel the acid in his stomach boil, “The blood wards protected you at your aunt’s, and I was capable of protecting Ariel myself. It would have caused too much of a commotion if you had _both_ gone to the same home. At the time, I did not think, and Professor Dumbledore earnestly believed that Petunia could learn to love her sister’s son, even though she had refused Ariel. When I saw… it was too late by then, Harry. The both of you at Hogwarts – it was difficult enough keeping your _sister_ out of the public eye.”

“You would have taken me?” Harry asked, slapping a hand across his mouth as soon as the words had left it. Stupid _sodding_ Calming Draught—

Snape’s eyes flashed, “I can’t answer that.”

“Because I wasn’t an option.”

“You weren’t offered to me, no.”

“I had to be _sold_ to you? What did you want— a sale’s pitch?”

His lips twitched, “I asked, when Professor Dumbledore first proposed the idea of me taking your sister, why the hell I would be a viable candidate. Ariel was not something I asked for— if anything, yes, I suppose the Headmaster did pitch her to me. What was I do to with an infant, let alone two?”

“You… you didn’t ask for her?” Harry blinked in surprise. He’d always assumed that Severus had gone to Dumbledore after their mum had died and requested her… to hell with James’ son, but Lily’s daughter…

“On the contrary,” Severus said in a serious tone, “for the first year and a half, I considered putting her out on the street. She was an insufferable brat.”

It took him a moment to realize he was kidding— joking. Harry cracked a small smile, snorting softly to himself. He’d never imagined Ariel running around and driving Severus mad. The first glimpse Harry really gotten of them together, he’d been telling Ariel he _cared_ about her.

“I’m here now, I guess.” Harry said, feeling the thing inside him crumble away as Severus gave his knee another squeeze before removing his hand, “And Black… they’ll catch him and put him back in Azkaban, won’t they?”

Severus’ face darkened significantly, “He’ll be getting much worse, I assure you.”

Somehow, it _didn’t_ assure him, but the thing roiling and rioting deep inside of Harry had quieted. He didn’t know how, or why— his parents were still dead, and his godfather had still murdered them, but Severus’ words had worked much better than that stupid Calming Draught.

“You should try being this nice all the time.” said Harry. “It doesn’t hurt much, does it?”

“Roll away your stone,” Severus said wryly, “I’ll roll away mine.”

There was a knock at the door, then. Before Severus could stand to answer, it opened, and in stepped Ariel. Her cheeks were crimson, like she’d been running, her chest heaving up and down.

“I’m here for Harry.” Ariel said with steely decisiveness.

Severus cocked an eyebrow at her, his face smooth otherwise, “Are you?”

Ariel continued to glare at him, and at this, Severus’ face hardened, like cracks in marble.

“It’s almost curfew.” She crossed her arms, “I didn’t think he’d want to spend the night here.”

Harry looked back to Severus, who was clenching his jaw, “It seems you’re assuming several things this evening.”

“At least I’m telling the truth.” Ariel shot back evenly.

Severus stood at that, and Harry was really in no mood to listen to the two of _them_ go at it again. He supposed it was a combination of the draught and feeling thoroughly emotionally drained.

“I _am_ tired.” Harry jumped up, giving his sister a look before turning back to Severus, “I er… we have a Transfiguration test in a day or so and I wanted to get a head start studying for it.”

It was a pathetic lie, but it was all Ariel needed, it seemed. Severus didn’t look so convinced. His eyes had turned back into cold marbles with something burning underneath, and they were trained on his sister.

“I want you both back here tomorrow.” Severus said coldly, “We’re discussing this— whether you like it or not.” The last part was directed straight at Ariel.

“Fine.” She said tonelessly, “Let’s go, Harry.”

* * *

 

Ariel and Harry had walked back to their dormitories in complete and total silence. She’d tried to talk to him about what had happened earlier, but he’d been quiet and reserved, curled back into the shell of himself he hid behind when his defenses were raised. Harry _seemed_ to be alright again, but Ariel knew her brother was probably embarrassed, and still reeling about Black as much as she was. Harry need time, and space, and Ariel could give him that, even if she hated it.

As for herself, she was still angry at her father, but that could wait— seemingly, until tomorrow. If Ariel had learned anything about her and Severus sharing a temper, it was that they _both_ needed space before they spoke and had an actual conversation. Until then, it was the silent treatment.

And so, with a brief goodnight and a parting glance, Harry had slipped into the Slytherin dormitory. She hoped Damon would talk to him— hoped Draco would stay away for now. She wasn’t going to touch _that_ just yet.

Ariel knew her father was following her when she hesitated outside of the Fat Lady.

She’d suspected it back at the Garden of Eden. There was no way he could have entered if Damon didn’t want him there— he’d furthered explained the magic behind it before Ariel had set off to rescue Harry. But Ariel knew that intense feeling only her father’s eyes could stir— the unsettling feeling of being watched— and the daunting possibility of being dragged down into the dungeons to be never seen again.

As Ariel opened her mouth to say the password _(fortuna major),_ she stopped herself, looking around at the otherwise empty staircases shifting behind her. She almost wanted to run back down to the dungeons and shout at Severus, but what good would that do at this point? Black was _Harry’s_ godfather, not hers (though, she had a bone to pick with Lupin now as well) and _he’d_ certainly given Severus a piece of his mind.

Ariel heard her father growl— clear as day, and the unspoken words of _“don’t you dare”_ hanging in the air as she took a step away from the portrait hole.

“Stop following me!” Ariel snarled, turning on her heel to face the Fat Lady once again, _“Fortuna major!”_

She saw him un-Disillusioning himself out of the corner of her eye as the portrait slammed shut behind her.

Luckily, Ariel was able to successfully avoid Hermione and Ron, sneaking through the common room like a silent breeze, and up to her dorm. All Ariel wanted to do was to crawl into bed and pass out, but, as always, things seemed to be far more difficult than planned.

Parvati and Lavender, two girls in Harry’s year, were talking with Sally and Katie. The four of them were sitting atop Katie’s bed, all perched behind one another. Lavender was braiding Sally’s hair, while Parvati put some weird greenish cream on her face. Katie was tossing her wand in the air and catching it. Ariel paused at the doorway, not wanting to barge in and interrupt the ongoing conversation.

“She’s never up here, anyhow.” Sally was saying, “I’m sure even if she was, she wouldn’t give a damn.”

“Where does she go?” Lavender asked.

“Well, Potter _did_ grow up in the castle. My older sister knew her back when she was a kid.”

Ariel’s heart skipped a beat, and she leaned in to hear better.

“What’s she like? Hermione says she’s nice enough.” Sally asked, let out an _“ow!”_ as Parvati tugged at her hair.

“She doesn’t talk to us— probably because she thinks she’s wasting her time, with her other half down in Slytherin— she’s friends with the Lestrange boy, did you know that?”

“I’ve seen them together, but can you blame her? He _is_ easy on the eyes.” Lavender giggled.

“That’s what you said about Lockhart.” Parvati retorted, and before Lavender could respond, she asked, “Does she fancy anyone?”

“She hasn’t got a boyfriend.” Katie said, “Seamus said Cormac fancied her, but it’s like Potter’s got something missing. She doesn’t _like_ boys.”

She needed to get out of this sodding castle. 

Ariel slammed the door shut, hoping that they all fell off the bed in surprise and got concussions as she rushed down the stairs and back into the common room. She looked around, trying to ignore the lump in her throat at their words. What did she care? So what if she didn’t like to sit around and gossip and do her hair and talk about boys with the other girls? That didn’t mean Ariel had something _missing._

_“Your mother was Head Girl,”_ McGonagall had told her once, _“well liked by all her classmates, very likeable— she reached out to everyone.”_

She became aware of someone calling her name when a piece of crumpled wad of paper hit the side of her head.

“Ariel, old girl!” Fred called from across the common room, “Come, my brother and I request an audience!”

She nearly threw a Hex their way, but took a deep breath and stalked over, trying desperately to reign in her temper.

“We hear you and Harry have been having a spot of trouble with sneaking about to a certain wizarding village.” said Fred.

“And if there’s anyone who knows how to sneak around Snape—”

“— it’s us!” George’s eyes flitted to something behind her.

It was then that Ariel turned, finding Ron hiding behind a copy of the Daily Prophet, Black’s face right smack in the middle of the cover, looking oddly suspicious. His eyes peeked over the top, but disappeared when they caught Ariel watching them.

“Sneak _around_ him?” Ariel rolled her eyes, “I’d like to avoid getting detention for the next three years, thank you very much.”

“We just wanted to give you this.” George said, holding out a piece of parchment.

She took it from them cautiously. With anything Weasley twin recommended, it was hard to tell what the outcome would be.

“This little beauty has taught us more than any professor at Hogwarts.” Fred said, sighing in admiration as the parchment reached Ariel’s hands.

“What in Merlin’s name are you two talking about?” Ariel asked, narrowing her eyes, “It’s a blank piece of parchment.”

“But is it _really?”_ George asked with a wicked smile, taking out his wand and tapping the parchment lightly, _“I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”_

At once, black lines swept across the page and spelled out four names.

_Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present THE MARAUDER'S MAP._


	65. Heartlines

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Literal non-stop angst for the next 3 chapters, and then the characters chill the fuck out. I tried like three different scenarios where the following events happened differently, but they messed up plot, so this is the end product. So hold onto your seats, friends.

The following day Harry awoke, not aware of the events the morning brought with it, though it began with Draco awakening him with a loud hiss of _“Potter!”_

He lifted his head groggily, head spinning like it was full of static. When Harry had fallen into bed last night, he’d found a vial of Dreamless Sleep next to his bed, and a note from Severus telling him to drink it. Harry had done so willingly— he really didn’t need anymore nightmares about Black, and somehow, even after sleeping through the night uninterrupted, he was _still_ exhausted.

When Draco started whispering at him, breaking Harry from his empty bliss, he let out a loud groan and chucked a pillow at him, not having enough energy to reach for his wand. Harry had no intentions of going to breakfast this morning, or even getting out of bed until he was sure that no one was in the dungeons. Saturday meant Hogsmeade, and Hogsmeade meant everyone third year and up left Hogwarts for the day, and empty castle meant people left him and his sister the hell alone.

… Which would give Severus all the time he needed to talk them to death about how Harry and Ariel _weren’t_ to go looking for Black, how they were to _always_ stay inside of the castle—

Good grief, today was going to be awful. He hoped Black was sodding miserable, eating a squirrel or something, wherever he was hiding. 

 _“Potter!”_ Draco chucked the pillow back at him, hitting him square in the face as Harry sat up.

“For Merlin’s sake, Malfoy, what the hell?” Harry groaned, rubbing his face, “It’s too bloody early for this!”

“My _cousin_ woke me up.” The words sounded strangled, “He’s been trying to do the same to you for the past fifteen minutes, but you’ve been out cold, like you can’t be _bothered_ with the rest of us—”

“Rise and shine!” Damon voice called loudly from somewhere.

Harry fell back against the bed, shoving the pillow over his head as footsteps approached the bed.

“Is he awake?” Damon asked, sounding amused.

“The _prince_ couldn’t be bothered.” Draco sneered back, “He was probably off in dreamland, wishing he was—”

“I didn’t ask for a story.” Damon said lightly, “Yes or no is more than enough, _thanks.”_

Harry snorted into the pillow.

“You’re an arse.” Draco sneered back. Something hit the stone floor, and Harry heard the sound of footsteps padding towards the bathroom. He hoped Draco drowned in the shower, or the Bloody Baron stole his clothes, or something.

He closed his eyes, head still buried against the sheets, thankful they had finally shut up, until he felt a weight hit the mattress. Harry groaned again, curling into himself. He wondered if Damon would retaliate if Harry kicked him off.

“Get off my bed.” Harry muttered into the pillow, “You’re being a prat to my sister.”

“We made nice.” Damon said, hidden laughter in his voice, “And I’m always a prat, thank you very much.”

 _“When?”_ Harry peeked an eye open. Damon was grinning at him like a little kid on Christmas.

“Need to know only, mate.” He said lightly, “Just know that peace talks did in fact take place.”

“How many casualties?” Harry asked, finally sitting up, and squinting at the musty green light filtering in through the windows, “Ariel was really mad at you— and come to think of it, so am I.”

“Interesting how you just incorporated both past _and_ present tense into that sentence.”

 _“Damon.”_ Harry gave him a look, “Be serious for a minute, or at least before Draco gets back.”

He gave a dramatic huff and rolled his eyes, “I apologized. She apologized. We made friendship bracelets.”

Harry snorted, “Yeah right.”

“C’mon.” Damon hopped off the bed, “Your sister sent me a note— she’s got something to show you.”

“Why didn’t she just send me one herself?” Harry grumbled, throwing his feet over the side of stretching.

“She did. She said you weren’t answering and sent me to do her bidding instead.”

It was then that Harry’s eyes landed on his nightstand, finding three or four folded notes atop it. He briefly caught the words _“assume you’ve been eaten by a hippogriff if you don’t respond”_ in Ariel’s handwriting at the bottom of one of them.

After throwing on Muggle clothes Severus had ordered for him by owl before school had started (he’d taken one look at the Dudley hand-me-downs and tossed them into the fireplace), Harry met Damon by the Slytherin common room entrance. They walked up to the main floor in tandem, discussing the Quidditch match and its make up date, which would be next Saturday.

It was the second of October that day, and it certainly felt it. There was a noticeable chill in the air, making both boys shiver as they hurried up to the Great Hall. It was nice, however, in a clearing-your-mind sort of way. It seemed to chase away the remaining fog in Harry’s brain, making him feel far more alert and ready to face the day than he had just a couple of minutes prior.

Ariel was waiting for him, with Ron and Hermione, at the Gryffindor table. After receiving their usual looks from the first years who still hadn’t gotten used to Slytherins sitting elsewhere, Damon and Harry sat down, helping themselves to breakfast. He noticed that Hermione and Ron shared a look at Damon’s return, but said nothing of it aloud.

Ariel looked tired. She was pale, and there were the beginnings of dark circles under her eyes. Harry quickly glanced up the the High Table, finding that Lupin was present, but Severus wasn’t.

“You _summoned_ me?” Harry gave her a look while spreading marmalade across his toast.

Ariel’s eyes seemed to brighten at this, and she reached beside her and pulled it onto the table. She pressed her index finger against what seemed to be just a spare bit of parchment, sliding it across the table to him.

Harry quirked an eyebrow, “What’s this?”

With a quick glance of her own up at the High Table, Ariel tapped her wand against the parchment and murmured, _“I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”_

Thick, black lines began to spread across the page, appearing slowly, and then all at once, spelling out a title that took up the entirety of the front page. Harry looked up at his sister, who was grinning at him knowingly. He was about to ask who the four people listed were, when she unfolded the parchment to reveal what was on the inside.

“Holy shit.” Damon muttered.

Harry leaned forward eagerly, drinking it all him with hungry eyes. The map displayed all of Hogwarts, the entire grounds, actually, and there were parts moving— names and footprints labeling every space, and they were… it was _everyone._ Their own names were right where they should be, in the Great Hall, along with Dumbledore and the other professors, save Snape. Harry’s eyes skimmed it over, finding that Snapes in his quarters. It looked like he was pacing.

“Where did you _get_ this?” Harry breathed, letting his fingers trace over the floating names littering the map.

“Fred and George.” Ariel shot said twins a grin, and the two of them, who were sitting a couple of seats away, raised their goblets to her. “I thought we could use it to sneak out of the castle today.” Her black eyes were glittering like starlight, “Get out and finally enjoy a change of scenery, yeah?”

That sounded like a terribly _wonderful_ idea. Harry ached to go—

“Snape will _murder_ us.” He said slowly. Hermione was already bobbing her head in agreement.

“Not if he doesn’t know.” Ariel said lightly.

Harry rolled his eyes, “He’ll know. If we go missing for a couple of hours, he’s bound to notice.”

“Especially with what happened with Black the other night.” Hermione bit her lip, “I don't think it's a good idea. He could be anywhere…”

“Why does everyone around here think Sirius sodding Black is hiding inside of Honeydukes?” Ariel threw her hands up in exasperation, “There's a tunnel somewhere in the dungeons that leads back up to to Honeydukes’ cellar. We can use that with Dad’s cloak, and the map. No one will ever see us. _And,_ if Black _does_ have a sweet tooth, he’ll show up on the map, won’t he?”

“That _is_ a good point.” Damon allowed, though his face was beginning to turn as skeptical as Hermione’s. Ron was shooting his brothers a look as they tried to overhear them plotting away.

“And you just think that, what, Snape _won’t_ notice that we’re nowhere inside the castle?” Harry quirked an eyebrow in disbelief.

“I can hide from him when I’m mad,” said Ariel. “which I am. He’ll assume I’m avoiding him instead of leaving the grounds.”

“Why the hell are _you_ mad at him?” He demanded, “He didn’t do anything to _you.”_

Ariel blinked, “He lied about Black. He should have told you and I back in August when he put us on house arrest!”

“He and I talked.” Harry crossed his arms, “You shouldn’t hold it against him.”

She made a disagreeing sound, quickly tapping her wand back to the parchment and muttering, _“Mischief managed.”_ The lines on the page began to fade.

“He’s _my_ godfather.” Harry shot back, _“Not_ yours. _Yours_ is sitting a couple of feet away, eating _eggs. Mine_ is plotting my death.”

“I know that.” Ariel said quietly, “But my parents are dead because of him, too.”

Maybe it was because a small part of Harry _wanted_ to make this his own problem, or maybe it was the fact that that part of him Severus had somehow quieted wanted Black dead, but seeing Ariel just as upset as him was making him uneasy— angrier, even, somehow. As if the betrayal was somehow _greater,_ that Ariel had more of a right to be mad at her father—

Well, Harry realized, she actually _did._ Severus was _her_ father, not _his._

Harry shoved the rest of his breakfast in his mouth and stood. “I’m going flying.” He announced, not looking at his sister when he spoke.

Ron perked up at this, “Can I come?”

“You said you were going to come study with me!” Hermione cried, giving him a betrayed look.

“Ariel and I were going to head to the library.” Damon offered.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed that Ariel sent him a murderous glare. It seemed that even after Hermione being Petrified, Ariel’s tolerance of her hadn’t improved by much.

“Though,” Damon went on, leaning forward, “flying _does_ sound a whole lot better.”

“Don’t you dare.” Ariel sighed, “You promised me you’d explain Yatalin’s goblin runes. All of Professor Babbling’s lectures are beginning to sound like her name.”

 _“And,_ you’re not invited.” Harry said lightly.

Damon held a hand over his heart in mock offensive, “And why is that?”

“Because you're a git.” Ron supplied.

“I can't argue that logic.” Damon sighed, “Though, you don't have a broom, Harry.”

His stomach rolled. His beautiful Nimbus…

“Take mine.” Damon offered when Harry went silent.

His eyes immediately narrowed in suspicion, “What’s the catch?”

“You have to be nice to Draco.”

Ariel made a disgruntled noise. Damon shot her a look, and then looked back to Harry expectantly. He looked like a door-to-door salesman assessing the buyer.

Harry crossed his arms, “No.”

“No Hexing?” He tried.

“No way!” Ron snorted.

“Fine.” Harry gave in. Ron made a horrified sound. His sister didn’t look at him. She was busy cutting her eggs into microscopic pieces, her head propped up with her elbow.

He couldn’t Hex Draco if he didn’t _see_ him, which Harry was quite alright with doing. After speaking with him the other day, he was quite sure something inside of him would snap if they started going at it again. And if Draco tried anything… well, it _would_ be self-defense…

“You break it,” Damon said, taking a sip of pumpkin juice, “I’ll make sure you’re the Willow’s next victim.”

Harry rolled his eyes and walked away at that, Ron beside him, looking both excited and disturbed. After a quick stop back at the Slytherin dorm for Damon’s broom (Ron had eyed the entrance like it would grow teeth and eat him) and then up to Gryffindor Tower for Ron’s, both boys were headed to the Quidditch pitch before most students had even finished their breakfast.

They’d spent the discussing ways to capture Black, though admittedly, it had been mostly Ron. Harry had listened quietly, laughing softly when he suggested that Severus create a potion that turned him into a giant bat so that he was use echolocation to find Black.

When their laughter had died down, and they reached the part of the path that was near the Forest, Ron quieted. He’d always been easy to read— which was why Harry supposed he’d become his best mate so quickly. He couldn’t imagine making his first friend and having to guess what the other was thinking. Ron’s face always told Harry what he was feeling, and right now, he was hesitant.

“So… this business with Draco…” Ron bit his lip, “You guys aren’t like, going to be _mates_ now, right?”

“Of course not!” Harry nearly gagged at the very thought. Draco trying to do right by him was one thing, but actually being _nice,_ like Damon wanted, was something else entirely.

“Good.” Ron shuddered, “Y’know, Harry, sometimes I can’t believe you’re in Slytherin, being around that lot and all.”

“Not _all_ Slytherins are bad. It’s just Draco’s gang.”

“I know.”

They were interrupted when a note whizzed overhead, floating in front of Harry. He eyed it cautiously. Ron looked like he wanted to set it on fire.

Harry could only guess who it was from. He groaned and took it, unfolding it with more force than necessary.

_My office, straight after lunch. The both of you. If either of you fail to report, consider this a formal warning that you will suffer my displeasure. — S.S._

Harry rolled his eyes and shoved the note into his robe pocket. If Harry had ever acted half as difficult as Ariel did when she was pissed, Severus would have squashed him like a fly.

“Snape?” Ron guessed.

Harry was about to tell him yes and tell him they should hurry to the pitch when a blur of something dark caught his eye at the tree line. He froze, scanning the foliage, his heart picking up speed up he saw a couple of ferns moving, and not because of the wind.

When the shape _did_ emerge from the trees, Harry let out a sigh of relief. It was the same huge, shaggy black dog that had come up to him at the start of term. He hadn’t seen it since, not like this, but some days, he swore he saw it on the Quidditch pitch before and after practice.

“Whoa!” Ron backed away, “Does Fang have a half-brother we don’t know about?”

The dog yipped, jumping at least a foot in the air. Harry laughed, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron crack a smile.

“I don’t know who’s he is.” Harry shrugged, “I think he’s been living in the Forest.”

“Maybe we could train him to eat Black.” Ron suggested.

The dog let out a loud bark, pawing and kneading at the ground. Its big head was turned in the direction of the Forest. He leaped forward, nearly sending Harry toppling over.

“Hey!” Harry tried to pull away, but froze, not wanting to rip his robes. The dog let go immediately and let out a whine, trotting off in the direction of the woods. He looked back expectantly, as though willing Harry and Ron to follow him.

Harry and Ron exchanged a look. The dog let out another bark, and tore forward. Harry braced himself, thinking that it was going to jump on him again, but it rushed past him, and instead bit the bottom of Ron’s trousers.

The dog tugged and Ron went down. Harry opened his mouth to laugh, and then to rebuke the dog, but then something else entirely happened. The dog pulled forward with such force that Ron fell flat on his bum, and began to drag him away, towards the tree line.

“Hey— HEY!” Ron shouted, clawing at the grass, “Harry! _HARRY— DO SOMETHING!”_

 _“RON!”_ Harry shouted, tearing after him, wand out.

 _“HARRY!”_ Ron wailed as the black dog dragged him past the trees. Once they hit the tree line, though, it let go of Ron and disappeared behind the bushes.

“What the sodding _fuck_ was that?” Ron sent a nasty look to the foliage, “That dog is mad!”

Harry dropped down beside him, “I’ve no clue— is your leg okay?”

“I- I think –” Ron gasped suddenly, his eyes widening, “H-Harry…”

He stood, “Good— let’s get out of here, then.”

_“H-Harry—”_

He turned, and nearly fell down again when he saw Sirius Black standing no more than ten feet away from him and Ron.

No one said a word. The only sound was their ragged breathing and the soft breeze rustling the leaves, as though it had arrived and was eager to be the audience.

“Stay _back.”_ Harry tried to say, but it came out a bit strangled, like his insides felt.

Black was shaking, though just slightly, his fingers reaching towards Harry as if there was some kind of gravitational force pulling him towards him. Harry tried to poise himself like a snake— like Severus when he was trying to be menacing— but he was afraid if he moved, his legs would buckle underneath him.

“I suspect you’re thinking about running, or cursing me right about now.” Black said in a soft voice, a false lull.

Harry couldn’t think straight, couldn’t breathe, like the other day when Draco had told him the truth— like when Severus had held him close—

“If you’re going to kill Harry,” Ron shouted at him, fumbling for his wand, “you’re going to have to go through me, too!”

Harry shot him a wild look, gripping his wand so tightly that his hand screamed in pain. It took some of the stress off his heart, which felt like it was going to burst straight out of his chest.

“I understand that you're frightened.” Black said, his eyes dark and wary, “But I need you to listen to me very carefully, Harry. Please. I’m not going to harm you, or your friend.”

“As long as what?” Harry said, his lips unable to form the consonants.

Black’s haggard face morphed into one of puzzlement.

“You're not going to harm us,” Harry said slowly through gritted teeth, heartbeat in his ears, “as long as _what?_ What do I have to do?”

The look of confusion deepened, and then disappeared altogether, leaving behind an expression of naked anguish. It made the blood in his veins join the thrum of his entire chest— a tympani.

“Listen.” Black said quietly, “Just listen.”

Harry looked back to Ron, who was still on the ground. His blue eyes reflected what Harry was only half-feeling— terror. The other part of him wanted to lunge forehead, feel his fist collide with Black’s face and never stop.

“I’m here,” Black was speaking to him as though he were a frightened animal, not the son of the man he’d murdered, “to get you away from Snape.”

Harry’s visions filled with stars, like the static on a telly, and his ears with white noise.

“Sna— _Snape?”_ Harry repeated back slowly.

“Just let me explain.” Black said pleaded softly, his hand coming closer.

“Stay _away_ from him!” Ron shouted, this time, with more force, “I _will_ kill you.”

The man stopped where he stood, his clothes hanging over his bony body. _Was he even alive?_ Black resembled a skeleton more than a man, paler than Snape was, his eyes sunken into his head, and his long hair looking more like mange.

“Please.” Black held up his hands, “I’m not here to harm you. I’m here to take you away—”

The fog and mist instead his head dissipated suddenly, and everything was so clear— _too_ clear, a blinding light shining away his confusion and leaving behind naked rage.

“Take me _away?_ ” Harry finally spoke, loathing how is voice trembled beneath the weight of his anger— it made him sounded fearful, “What? You don’t want to do it here? You’d rather kill me on your turf? Bring me to the other free Death Eaters?”

“No!” Black yelled, and Harry and Ron jumped, his grip tightening on his wand, “I’m here to help you and your sister!”

The man suddenly took a couple of steps forward as Harry stumbled away—

“ _Stop_!” Harry yelled back throwing a Hex to the leaves beside Black, watching in satisfaction as they crackled and fizzed and Black flinched, “Don’t _talk about my sister._ You’re not going to touch her!”

“Have you not heard what I just said?” Black softened his voice, his sunken eyes glittering, “I said I’m here to _rescue_ you. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Something inside Harry cracked in two.

 _“Rescue me?”_ He shouted at him, “ _YOU KILLED MY PARENTS!”_

Black flinched violently again, as though the statement had caused him pain…

“Harry…” Ron croaked— Harry tore away, trying to think of a curse good enough to hurt him, trying to channel all of his hatred into his wand and onto Black.

“You’re lucky…” Harry panted, chest heaving up and down as Black help up his hands, “You’re lucky _Snape_ didn’t catch you the other night… how did you escape? How did you get _in?”_

The hurt expression Black had been wearing was gone now, replaced with a look of pure hatred.

 _“Snape?”_ He hissed, _“Snape_ is the _real_ Death Eater.”

“Shut _up!”_ Harry shouted, curling his hand around his wand even tighter, “You _killed my parents,_ so you don’t _get_ to talk—”

 _“Harry…”_ Ron gripped his arm in an iron hold, trying to obviously calm him, but Harry shook him off.

 _“—_ as if you’re somehow going to trick me on such an unbelievable claim! Snape has been trying to _protect us_ from you!”

“I’m here to get you away from him.” Black said in a hard stone, like it’d been chiseled from diamond, “I know what he’s done, and I’m not going to let him get away with it.”

For a moment, Harry was speechless, not knowing how to respond to that.

“I did.” Black admitted finally, his eyes holding the weight on his confession, “But I wasn’t the one who told You-Know-Who where they were, I wasn’t there Secret Keeper… James chose someone else—”

“What are you _talking_ about?

“It wasn’t me, Harry, I swear on whatever is left of my pathetic life. It was Pettigrew. He- he chopped off his finger and turned into a rat… his own spell ended up killing him –”

Ron’s eyes were as big as bowls, and Harry raised his wand back up, “Do you know how bloody insane that sounds? Do you think we’re _that_ daft?”

“Harry, _please,_ just listen to me!” Black was panting, like he’d just run a marathon, “Your parents and I decided it would be too obvious if I was made your Secret Keeper. They made Pettigrew it instead, no one would have guessed it was him, barely anyone knew who he was—”

“So, what? This Pettigrew guy was really a Death Eater?” Ron snorted, “Why would he blow himself up?”

“Azkaban is a fate worse than death.” Black said in a hollow voice, like the way the wind whispered through the trees.

Harry tensed, trying to avoid Black’s eyes. They were wide and full of something that shouldn’t have been there, something tempting and terribly frightening all at once.

“I didn’t escape to kill you.” Black spoke finally, when no one else did, “I… I don’t know if anyone’s told you, but your mother and father made me your godfather. It was my responsibility to make sure you were safe… mine at Remus’... he’s a professor here, isn’t he? I saw him just the other day…”

“Does he know you’re here?” Harry demanded, “Did he help you the other night?”

“No,” Black said quietly, “I imagine that if he saw me, he’d kill me.”

“Then why did you drag me off into the Forest?” Ron asked, his blue eyes steely, “You couldn’t have dragged us out here just to have a chat!”

“No,” Black’s grey eyes hardened and rolled, like thunderclouds, “I’m here, Harry, to warn you about Snape— to get you and Ariel _away_ from him.”

“Snape isn’t the problem.” Harry said flatly, _“You_ are.”

Black flinched and hung his head, “I just… I need you to listen, alright? I’ll… let you go, after, but for now, I need you to just _listen._ Snape isn’t who he says he is, Harry. He was a loyal Death Eater during the war— an oddball filled up to his eyes in dark magic. He knew more spells coming in as a first year than most seventh year students. He… I heard he had _adopted_ your sister, and I knew it must be some sick revenge on your dad… I… I didn’t believe it until I saw him with her the other day.”

Harry hadn’t heard much after the words _he was a loyal Death Eater._ He wanted to burst out laughing, and then grab a rock and smash it against Black’s face. The idea was ridiculous – madness – the same kind that Black was rumored to possess. Snape was cruel and awful and temperamental the majority of the time, but he wasn’t _evil._ He’d saved them from Quirrell-Mort, and Lucius, and had been distraught with the whole thing with Riddle last year… and he _loved_ Ariel… and his mum, who’d been a Muggleborn. Death Eaters didn’t _love_ people who had led to their Master’s downfall.

“Snape isn’t a Death Eater.” Harry said in a steely voice.

“Can you tell me beyond a shadow of a doubt that’s true?” Black asked in a serious voice.

_The Headmaster thought I would be able to protect her, and who was I to turn away an opportunity at redemption?_

He hesitated. Perhaps in another life, where Severus hadn’t raised Ariel, maybe one where she didn’t exist altogether, Harry could have seen it. He was terrifying, and cruel, and terrible to everyone all the time— in a world where Harry was still only James’ son and Severus was still _Snape._

“Well, I mean…” Ron looked at Harry nervously, “He _has_ always wanted the Defense position…”

Harry felt his heart rate slow, his breathing steady, and focused on the pain in his head.

His scar was burning.

* * *

 

“So you’re both… _okay.”_ Hermione said slowly, looking doubtful. She’d been eyeing Ariel and Damon the entirety of their study session, like they were going to bite each other’s heads off any minute. The library was otherwise quiet, save a group of Hufflepuffs working diligently by the windows. Madam Pince had disappeared into a back room.

“Right as rain.” Ariel said dryly, flipping through her Runes textbook to chapter thirty-one.

“Let’s stop talking about it.” Damon said lightly, though he and Ariel shared a private look. She hadn’t even told Harry what they’d talked about— she didn’t know if she should. Damon hadn’t said she _couldn’t,_ but then again, Ariel had no clue what to do about Draco. She had bigger problems.

“Harry’s going to ask.” Hermione went on— Ariel tried to incinerate the word _rustic_ in her textbook with the force of her glower. “Since you gave him the silent treatment, and _he_ didn’t do anything.”

“He was guilty by association.” He said.

Ariel glared at him. Damon’s eyes widened in mock surprise, “What? _He_ didn’t try either, mind you!”

“You _were_ kind of bratty.” She teased.

“Says the girl who shouted at Snape in the middle of Potion’s first year.”

“I was sticking up for _you!”_ Ariel swatted at his arm.

“Is that what you called it? I thought it was a suicide attempt.”

“Listen here, you arsehole—”

Ariel’s speech broke off as a familiar burning sensation exploded through her head. A searing pain was shooting through her scar; for a moment, she remembered how Quirrell-Mort had touched it the night she had gone after Harry, but this was much worse. Ariel couldn’t help but let out a pained cry as she thought she heard the sound of footsteps running away and Damon yelling her name.

Her knees buckled underneath her and she fell to the stone floor.

Ariel’s vision, to her horror, began to change. One minute she was looking at the floor of the school as it slowly faded to black, the next being different shades of green. The pain in her forehead was unbearable.

“Damon!” Ariel croaked out as the spinning slowed. As she cracked her eyes open, she winced at the sudden change in light, holding a hand to her forehead.

She blinked.

Her vision with filled with muted greens— a blur of trees and pine and—

It was… she was in the Forbidden Forest?

What the _fuck?_ Ariel thought to herself, using one of her father’s words. Had she accidentally Apparated? No— you couldn’t inside of Hogwarts…

Ariel closed her eyes tightly and counted backwards from ten, hoping that she’d wake up from this nightmare. When she finally decided to open her eyes, everything was blurry and far too bright. Ariel squinted, slowly pushing herself to her feet and tried to make out the mess of shapes in front of her. The green was obviously trees— but there were people, their images shimmering and swaying, like she was underwater.

Ariel quickly identified Harry— his hair was unmistakable, and it made sense. If her scar was burning, that meant Voldemort was near, or something was wrong with her brother. Had this been what he felt when he saw her and Riddle? It felt very different than her night visions during first year… not as dreamlike, or clear.

Her breathing quickened as she looked to the person next to him— Ron, obviously, the red hair giving him away. They'd both been on their way to the Quidditch pitch… what had happened? Why were they in the Forest?

And then she caught sight of the person standing in front of them— the matted hair and the prisoner clothes—

_Sirius Black._

Ariel felt her chest tighten as her head spun, or maybe the forest floor was moving. She couldn’t tell. Her entire being felt like a live wire, a thrill of fear so strong that it rendered her speechless. Ariel couldn’t move or talk, only watch as her brother spoke. He looked angry— the kind that Severus had been when he’d said Lupin was her godfather. Black looked… unnervingly calm, and Ron was a mixture of frightened and fearless. He looked oddly steadier than Harry.

She recognized the area— this was the tree line, where her father had heard that strange growl before Harry’s first Quidditch game.

It was then that she realized she couldn’t hear them well— it was like someone had shoved cotton balls in her ears. And then everything went bright, brighter, like a great light had descended and was swallowing them all whole…

Someone was shaking her.

“Ariel!” It sounded like Hermione, “Can you hear me?”

Her forehead still felt like it was going to split open, but with every pang, it lessened and lessened, like somehow, Harry was getting farther away…

She shot up from the ground like a bullet, only the edges of her vision shimmering instead of the whole thing and reached into her robe pocket for her wand.

“W-where’s Damon?” Ariel asked as Hermione put a hand on her shoulder.

“H-he went to go get Professor Snape.” Her amber eyes were wide, “What happened?”

Shite shite _shite—_

“I… I have to go.” She shoved herself upright, “Harry…”

 _“Harry?”_ Hermione frowned, gripping her arm tightly— too tightly. “What are you talking about?”

“Harry… and Black…”

 _“Black?”_ Hermione went pale, “What are you— Ariel, what _happened?_ What did you see? _Where?”_

She went still. Ariel hadn’t any idea… the picture hadn’t been clear enough, and she hadn’t been able to hear them. She looked around wildly for her wand, quickly depositing it into the sleeve of her robe, when her eyes landed on her saving grace.

The Map…

Ariel practically pounced onto the table. She ripped open the Map, scanning it with laser beam precision for her brother’s name.

He was just off the path from the Quidditch pitch— Ron’s name was floating next to him, along with—

_“Ariel—”_

“No time,” She panted, pushing herself to her feet, “tell my dad they’re where we stopped before Harry’s first Quidditch match.”

“Ariel, you can’t just— _wait!”_

She wasn’t listening. She didn’t even hear Hermione calling her as Ariel flew through the library and out into the corridor, scrambling to find her wand in her sleeve.

Ariel’s heart thudded in her chest, working its way up her throat as she ran. Once she hit the main doors, the cold fall air hitting her face, her heartbeat seemed to triple. How did Black _find_ them? Where were the Dementors? Granted, Dementors were about as comforting as Black himself, but how had he grabbed her brother so easily? What had made him so _bold?_

She hoped her father didn’t dally.

When she broke past the tree line, she nearly collided with Ron. The rustling of leaves must’ve startled him, because he jumped aside and let out a startled shout. With nothing to break her fall, Ariel went tumbling to the ground rather unceremoniously.

When she lifted her head, she was looking Black right in the face.

Ariel scuttled backwards and leapt to her feet, a shaky hand reaching for her brother’s arm. Harry reached forward for her as she stumbled back. She threw her outstretched arm in front of him, jerking her head at Ron to run, to get away—

It was then that Ariel realized she didn't really have a plan.

“What are you—” Harry shared a bewildered look with Ron, _“How_ did you—”

She pointed to her forehead, and a look of understanding passed over his face.

“The professors know.” Ariel gave Black a cracking look of hatred, “They’re coming, so if I were you, I’d think twice about whatever it is you think you’re going to do to my little brother.”

He looked… like a zombie, or an Inferi of some kind. His hair was somehow worse than her father’s, which was rather disgusting on a bad day, his skin waxy and paper-like…

But the look in his eyes didn’t match his physique. Black was looking at them like… like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time…

“Snape is coming?” Harry asked her.

When Ariel looked back to him, he looked uneasy. She frowned, careful to keep her wand trained on Black. He had yet to say a word.

“I told Hermione to get him.” Ariel said, giving him a confused look, “Of course I made sure Dad was coming.”

Black growled, then. Ariel’s head whipped back in his direction, narrowing her eyes at him.

“He makes you call him _‘dad?’”_ Black asked in a dangerous voice— the kind that was so low and soft that it felt like the calm before a storm.

Completely taken off guard by the question, Ariel could do little more than blink, “What?”

His eyes had gone dark, and Ariel recognized the murderous light in them. It was the kind her father’s held when Dumbledore had returned the Diary to Lucius.

“What is going on?” Ariel turned back to her brother, who had slowly crept to her side.

“He’s not trying to kill us.” Harry said. He wasn’t even looking at her anymore— he was staring at Black with a strange look in his green eyes.

She nearly choked, “What the hell are you— _Harry,_ he’s a _Death Eater!_ Of _course_ he—”

“Does it _look_ like I am trying to kill you?” Black shouted suddenly, making the three of them jump, “I am wandless— defenseless. If the three of you wanted to, you could probably take me down right now. I’m risking the Dementors to get you the hell away from Snape!”

Ariel felt her body go very, very cold, and then boiling hot. Her mind was searing itself under the heat. Her eyes felt like they were going to pop out of her skull as she stared, agog.

 _“What_ about my father?” She asked in a dangerous voice, staring straight at Harry, “What the _hell_ is going on? What is he talking about? Why hasn’t he tried to murder us yet?”

“Black says…” Harry still wouldn’t look at her, “that Snape worked for Voldemort… but… Snape’s never said anything about it—”

Ariel wasn’t on the ground anymore, where her feet touched her shadow. Her breathing quickened. She tried to ding her heels in the dirt, feel it break between her toes, but that awful night when Severus had told her the truth came rushing back. The insidious voice that had seemingly fled after Tom whispered _he was a Death Eater he was a DEATH EATER—_

“Of course he wouldn’t fucking tell you— he probably has everyone fooled.” Black was still shouting, “I didn’t think for a second Dumbledore would fall for it—”

 _“I_ know he _was_ a Death Eater.” Ariel snapped, “Because he told me himself, and he’s _not_ anymore.”

Harry’s neck should have snapped in two— _that’s_ how quickly he turned back to Ariel, his green eyes like the fire in a Floo. Black looked like she’d slapped him.

“Snape… was a Death Eater.” Harry said slowly, “And you didn’t tell me.”

“Yes.” The words tasted bad in her mouth, made her tongue feel like it had been wrapped in iron.

“Snape worked for _Voldemort.”_

Black was wearing a grim mask of triumph.

“Funny that you’re smiling,” Ariel snarled at him, wanting to chuck at a rock at him, “when you’re the one in Azkaban, and my dad is walking free.”

“Why _is_ he walking free?” Harry demanded, fists balled at his side.

“He changed sides.” Ariel was now the one glaring at Black, “before the war ended.”

“And _he_ told you that?” Black’s lip curled.

“Yes,” She squared her chin, “he did.”

“I think Black is telling the truth, then.” Harry said, his green eyes boring into hers.

Her head was going to go spinning off her shoulders any second.

“You— you think…” Ariel sputtered incoherently as ice filled her veins, “He— _murdered—_ mum— and— dad!”

“But he didn’t.” Harry said, his voice telling her that he’d make his decision, “He says Pettigrew blew himself and those Muggles up… that Mum and Dad made _him_ their Secret Keeper, because Black would be too obvious.”

“Do you _hear_ yourself?”

“Let him talk, Ariel.” Ron said quietly, “It makes sense.”

“You didn’t ask for a trial.” Ariel glared at Black, ignoring Ron and keeping her wand trained on him, “You were James’ best friend. Why would you ask Pettigrew… risk that, if you were _so_ loyal?”

“No one would have suspected him.”

“I… don’t understand.” Ariel shook her head, “Then what does my _dad_ have to do with this?”

“Ariel,” Black pronounced every syllable in her name, “Snape is _not_ —”

“He thinks Snape,” Harry interrupted quickly, “is… well, he thinks Snape… is… _abusive.”_

Black closed his eyes tightly and gritted his teeth, and for a moment, Ariel thought he was going to be sick. She almost was herself.

“I’m sorry, but _why_ are we having this conversation?” Ariel put her hand on Harry’s shoulder, and looked back to Ron, _“He_ murdered our parents! _He_ is the convicted Death Eater!”

Harry sighed, “Because he thinks your dad—”

“He is _not_ her father.” Black snapped angrily.

“Yes, he is.” Ariel shot back.

Ignoring the comment, Harry went on, “He thinks Snape is _still_ a Death Eater

“Because he _is.”_

“Shut up.” Ariel growled, “How the hell did you even know he had us? Why _now?”_

“I heard some Death Eaters talking about it one day.” Black hissed, flexing his fingers, “Lucius Malfoy visits Azkaban frequently since his sister-in-law got herself a life sentence, and he mentioned that Snivellus—”

_Go out with me and I’ll never lay a wand on old Snivelly ever again_

_And I’d wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus_

_Who wants to see me take off Snivelly’s trousers?_

“You risked your life to come and get us.” Harry said quietly.

“Of course I did.” Black muttered, his voice thick, “I only wish I’d come sooner. The second I’d known Snape had you, I would have been here in the blink of an eye. I thought Dumbledore would keep you safe—” He broke off and ran his hands through his filthy hair.

He… there was heart-wrenching honesty there. The desperation one might’ve mistaken for madness, the twitch and the shake in his hands made Black suddenly look like a broken man, not an escaped psychotic madman. Not the stuff of nightmares, the laughing face in the shadows.

“Er… Mr Black,” Ariel tried to soften her voice as a wave of pity for the man before him fell over her, “he’s never laid a hand on me.”

Black shook his head, “No, you’re lying to protect him. He’s brainwashed you or something; used some kind of sick spell or potion—”

“He _hasn’t.”_ Ariel said forcefully.

When Black looked back up, his face was both heartbroken and livid. Ariel wondered how someone could look both at the same time without exploding.

“Why are you here?” Harry asked quietly.

“I…” Black turned, and began to pace, “I had thought I’d have the year to try to figure out what to do… but then I saw Snape was _here—”_

“He teaches Potions.” Ariel said coolly.

He stopped and looked at her, “I need to get you away from him. You’ll see then—”

 _“No!”_ Ariel shouted at him, “I don’t care if you’re innocent or not— if you _hurt him—”_

“Stop it!” Harry jumped in between the both of them, giving them silencing glares, “This _isn’t_ helping. Bl— Sirius, we’ll do what we can do help you, but for now, leave Snape out of it!”

“What _can_ we do?” Ariel threw her hands up in exasperation, “It’s a bloody miracle the Dementors aren’t swarming us right now!”

Harry looked between them helplessly, “What if we told Snape—”

“No.” Black snarled, “Not Snivellus.”

“Then how can we help you?” Harry had begun to look desperate, a hungry look in his face Ariel didn’t understand, nor had she ever seen before, “The Headmaster, maybe?”

“Remus.” Black’s eyes lightened, “If you tell him… about Pettigrew… tell him to meet me, with a Pensieve, I can show him—”

 _“HARRY!”_ Said-Godfather’s voice called from somewhere nearby, _“ARIEL?”_

They all went very still, listening to the crunch of footsteps get closer and closer. Ariel felt a tingling feeling descend over her, her earlier declaration that _the professor’s were coming_ beginning to feel like impending doom.

“Speak of the devil.” Black said under his breath.

Harry rushed forward, “You have to go! Run!”

Black hesitated, his eyes looking behind him, “I can’t leave you—”

 _“GO!”_ Harry grabbed his arm— Black stared where his hands made contact, “The Dementors… we won’t be able to stop them!”

He reached for Harry, and took his face in his hands.

“I’m not leaving you two.” Black said in a rough voice, “I’ll be nearby. Talk to Remus.”

And then with a swift _POP,_ Black transformed into a huge, black dog— Ariel goggled at it— and disappeared.

When she turned, her father and Lupin were coming out of the trees.

* * *

 

Day drinking had its perks, though Severus felt no better as the fire whiskey burned his throat.

He had several reasons, the first and foremost being his daughter. Between Black’s initial break-in two nights prior and her anger towards him now, Severus was walking a very thin line. He’d smashed the glass in the grandfather clock beside the fireplace after he’d followed Ariel up to Gryffindor Tower last night, frustrated and furious.

Severus had followed her while Harry had been asleep as well, though, _that_ endeavor had proved to be pointless. He’d all but forgotten about the garden on the fifth floor. It had been a Slytherin tradition to keep it among housemates when something of importance needed to be spoken about. It came as no surprise that Bellatrix’s son knew its whereabouts. However, the fact that he’d taken _Ariel_ up there— _alone—_ where Severus couldn’t fucking _follow_ had nearly driven him mad. Unable to enter, he’d paced back and forth in front of the entrance, Disillusioned, of course, until his wards had alerted him that Harry had awoken. Severus could only begin to venture what the hell they’d been talking about.

He didn’t like it— as much as Severus hated seeing Ariel miserable without her dearest friend, his stomach turned at the idea of them spending so much time together again. He didn’t trust the little monster.

And _now_ Ariel wasn’t speaking to him. It shouldn’t have bothered him— Ariel’s silent treatment’s were about as predictable as Trelawney and a bottle of Elvish wine. She’d crack first, unable to contain her emotions, and Severus would be there, miserable and angry and bitter, and waiting for her. If he was going to have _any_ kind of conversation with Ariel and Harry later today, he needed to take the edge off, and firewhiskey was his best bet. She wouldn’t cave _this_ quickly.

It took Severus several moments, after realizing his daughter was once again employing her use of the silent treatment, to hear the banging on his classroom door.

“Professor!” It was Bella’s brat, _“Professor!”_

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. “Enter.” He called, allowing a considerable amount of venom to leak into his voice.

The boy burst through the door— Severus was quickly formulating a plan to strangle him and hide the body— like a bat out of hell. His eyes were wide, the blue in them the color of the sky, and hair oddly Potter-ish. It was sticking up in clumps.

“Something’s wrong with Ariel!” Bellatrix’s brat panted, “She started screaming and yelling, and then she blacked out cold!”

Severus felt his entire chest cavity fall onto the floor in front of him.

“Where?” He asked in a low voice, not trusting himself to speak above a whisper. The thing behind his Occlumency shields was reeling.

“Library.” The boy wheezed, bracing himself on the wall as Severus swept past him, not falling into a run until he hit the stairs. A small part of his brain reminded him that this situation reminded him of Ariel’s first year… but then, Bellatrix’s brat had _dragged_ her down to the dungeons…

Severus shoved the brat aside and took to the corridor with long strides. He didn’t want to run, Merlin forbid anyone should see him, but his fire-whiskey-induced-brain seemed to be going into overdrive. What could Ariel have _possibly_ gotten into — that _foolish_ girl —

His hands had gone ice-cold by the time he reached the library. Severus sent a group of Hufflepuffs scrambling with a glare that would have permanently scarred a first year, quickly locating Granger. She looked frazzled and beside herself.

And Ariel wasn’t with her.

“Miss _Granger,”_ Severus snarled, containing the urge to grab the girl, “where _is_ she?”

“I— I don’t know.” Granger looked bewildered, “She just shot up and shouted something about Sirius Black having Harry in the Forest!”

Her words were—  quite literally— heart stopping. Severus felt the breath catch in his throat, and then, his mind seemed to crystallize his thoughts.

_“What?”_

“H-her scar was all red…”

“Where _is_ she, Granger?”

“S-she said by the Quidditch pitch… something about where y-you two were at H-Harry’s game…”

Severus took off, his heart at least fifty paces ahead of him. He felt as he had the other night, when Black had first entered the castle in search of his daughter and Harry. Where had he _gone how had he gotten in find them find them find them —_

Lupin found him when he was stalking past the Great Hall.

Maybe it was the look on his face— maybe it was the speed at which he was running— but something obviously did not register with Lupin to _fuck off_ as Severus breezed by him. He briefly recalled a look of confusion passing over the werewolf’s face, and then he was walking beside him, asking questions that he didn’t have the time to entertain because his _child Black had his child they were in the Forest where had they gone where where WHERE—_  

Severus pushed past Lupin without a word. But then, he felt a restraining hand on his shoulder, a dark curse forming on his lips—

 _“Severus.”_ His ears finally heard, a distant ringing coming from elsewhere.

“He _has them,”_ Severus spat savagely, “in the fucking _Forest.”_

There was nothing after that.

He couldn’t feel his body— it was like Severus was functioning completely on automation, save the growing pain in his chest. He was distantly aware of his heart thrumming away in his ears. All he could see was her face going slack in the Headmaster’s chair, hearing her and the boy scream in front of that blasted mirror—

 _“HARRY!”_ Lupin was shouting somewhere, distantly, _“ARIEL!”_

Severus couldn’t speak. His mind was entering a new plane, _find them find her find him find them where had they gone—_

They broke into the clearing, his daughter’s red hair immediately catching his eye.

“Dad!” Ariel cried when she caught sight of him.

At the sight of her face, of Lily-face and Harry’s Lily-eyes looking at him, it all came crashing back. Crippling fear that he threw to the back of his mind, and a wave of rage so strong that it shuddered through him, like a bolt of electricity. Where he was, what had happened suddenly mattered once again, because they were both seemingly alright— _alive._

Ariel had sprung forward while Lupin sagged against a tree, face thick with relief. Harry hadn’t moved— his eyes lingered on Severus’ for a moment before turning back to the expanse behind him, as though he were looking for something.

Severus grabbed his daughter as she reached for him and knelt down in front of her, gripping her face with his free hand. She made a surprised sound, but didn’t try to move away.

“What— the _hell,”_ He forced through bared teeth, _“happened?”_

She couldn’t move her head under Severus’ hold, but Ariel’s eyes flickered to her brother, who turned at the sound of Severus’ question. Weasley looked like he was about to vomit.

 _“Um.”_ Was all Ariel said, her mind obviously racing to formulate a response.

“Ariel Rose Potter.” It was the first time he’d used her full name twice in twenty-four hours, “You are going to tell me _right now_ what the three of you are doing out here.”

“Black…” Ariel trailed off and looked away. Severus gave her a small shake, but her eyes didn’t meet his again, nor did she speak.

It said enough, if anything. His chest burned.

He tore away from her and looked to Lupin, who was trying to pry the boy’s focus from the empty space in front of him, “Take them back to the school. I’m going to search the Forest for him.”

“Dad…” Ariel’s hand grabbed his sleeve— Severus stared at it, and then, at the wild look in her eyes, “You can’t go! He’s here to take us away from _you.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m going to upload again this evening, and then, the final chapter will be tomorrow! We’re nearly completely caught up, friends!
> 
> Please review! Xx


	66. Daniel in the Den

Ariel couldn’t think straight.

 _Or_ walk straight, which seemed to be the more pressing matter at the moment. Every time she sort of veered off, away from her father’s side, his talon-like fingernails dug into her back. It bloody _hurt,_ but Severus didn’t seem to notice. The light in his eyes had been doused.

Her legs felt like jelly, her eyelids heavy. Ariel just wanted to curl up in a bed and fall asleep. It took up until them crossing over the threshold of the castle doors for Ariel to realize that her sudden exhaustion was a result of the connection. She hadn’t really suffered from the effects since first year, when she’d been curled up in bed and able to let her exhaustion take over without a second thought, and the next year, when Harry had been affected, Tom had been in control. It had never happened while they were both awake, though…

Ariel didn't bother trying to explain herself as they walked, and neither did Harry. Lupin seemed to be the only one attempting to be of little comfort, but her father didn't seem to like the idea of him touching them at the moment. Lupin had _tried_ to put a reassuring hand on her arm, but Severus had tugged her away and given her godfather a look that should have turned him to ash.

Lupin had then given up and asked Ron, who had yet to say a single word, if he was alright. He was limping, leaning heavy against Lupin as the five of them made their way back to the castle. She wanted to ask what had happened to his leg, but knew that this wasn’t the time for that.

In truth, Ariel was terrified. Not so much of Black anymore— she could almost believe him, because in her experience, remorse like that was very hard to fake. She’d seen something akin to it on her dad’s face on more than one occasion, and Harry had a better sense of judgement than _she_ did most times. _He_ seemed convinced, although, Harry was acting a bit strange as well, so Ariel wasn’t quite sure.

Black could have killed them— grabbed their wands or something, used a wordless spell. If he’d really been working for Voldemort, then he’d be well versed in dark magic that could have done the job in seconds, but Black hadn't.

That was besides the point, though, or at least, right now, it was.

Ariel was, however, very, _very_ frightened of her father – _for_ him. He seemed to be acting more and more… there wasn’t really a word to describe it. Severus was more than angry, _more_ than his usually-paranoid-overprotective self. Threatened-By-Black-Severus was straight up terrifying, the way the basilisk moving across the Chamber’s floor had made her pulse race and chest heavy. The edges of his face were sharp, and while his eyes were dark, they glittered, like they’d been chiseled from some kind of precious stone. There was an urgency in the way he moved, in the way he refused to look down at her that told Ariel that he wasn’t really thinking. It was like Occlumency inverted.

She was scared of what her father would do when they told him, or rather, what _Black_ would do if he got impatient. Between what he’d said about Lucius— _whatever_ he’d told him that was an obvious lie— and Black’s apparent misgivings about Severus, Ariel was quite sure she’d go mad just lying in wait for the two of them to throw the first punch.

 _If_ Black was even innocent. But the way he’d touched Harry right before he’d taken off…

Now that she thought about it, Harry looked thoroughly pissed instead of determined.

_I’m risking the Dementors to get you the hell away from Snape!_

Her father was going to end up in Azkaban by the end of all of this. When they told him what Black had said, he was going to blow up the school.

Ariel craned her neck to try and get a better look at Lupin. She wished her and Harry could just talk to _him_ about this, seeing as he’d been their dad’s friend, and Black’s, but it would be a cold day in hell before Severus let that happen. Lupin’s eyes were warm and concerned, so unlike her father’s, which were cold and promised the apocalypse.

Severus barked for Madam Pomfrey as he flung open the infirmary doors with a flick of his wand. Ron’s eyes were as big as bowls— it occurred to Ariel that he’d never seen her father in this state before.

Well, he was in for it.

Her father maneuvered Ariel and Harry towards two cots, snarling a _“stay with them,”_ at Lupin before pulling back the curtains, hiding the rest of the infirmary from few.

“Let’s get you on a bed.” Lupin gestured to one beside Harry’s, helping Ron climb onto it.

Ariel took the one farthest from him, seating herself on the very edge. She could hear Severus talking in a low, fast, voice. Every couple of words or so, his volume would rise.

“Did he do anything to you?” Lupin asked. He looked… ill, like he’d spontaneously come down with a horrible flu.

Harry shook his head— Ariel decided to stay quiet for now, before her father broke something. Every time they ended up in here and she started talking, things got smashed, and she’d bet her wand arm that Lupin would end up being his target.

The curtain pulled back. Madam Pomfrey entered, bustling over to Ron, while her father stood at the opening.

He looked to Lupin, “Go and get the Headmaster.”

Lupin frowned, “I’d rather stay, actually.”

“Did I _ask_ for your opinion?” Her father rounded on him, face inches away, though Lupin did not back away, “Perhaps you’d rather join your friend outside, see what he's been up to—”

 _“DAD!”_ Ariel gave him a look, horrified at his behavior, “He’s just trying to—”

He grabbed her by the arm, _hard._

“Not— another— _word.”_ He hissed, and her mouth clamped shut.

Ariel rubbed at her arm once he let go and glared, trying to blink away the stinging in her eyes. Madam Pomfrey busied herself with healing Ron’s sprained ankle, and Harry avoided her eyes.

Lupin’s expression was pained, but he said nothing. After a minute, he put a hand where Severus had grabbed her, gave a gentle squeeze and walked away with another word.

The force of her father’s glare should have lit the end of Lupin’s coat tails on fire.

 _“Poppy.”_ Severus said once Lupin had left, giving her a Start-Doing-Want-I-Want look.

“The physical injuries do seem a bit more pressing at the moment, Severus.” She didn’t even look at him as she worked on Ron’s leg, “Your daughter and Mr Potter don’t seem to be in any immediate danger, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to work in peace.”

He was beginning to shake— vibrate with that intensity only Severus could radiate. Harry finally looked at Ariel, his eyes telling her to do something. She did what she only prayed would stop him before he killed Madam Pomfrey, and grabbed her father’s hand.

He stopped immediately. Severus went as still as a statue, his eyes closing as he inhaled deeply through his nose. The pad of his thumb lightly grazed over her fingers, but then he let go. Ariel watched him as he opened his eyes again, but Severus did not look at her.

No one spoke as Madam Pomfrey worked on Ron and Severus hovered over the two of them. He made a sound of impatience after a moment and began to run his own Diagnostic on Harry, obviously growing annoyed with Madam Pomfrey’s pace.

He frowned when the end of his wand lit up a glassy white.

“What?” Harry asked him, his green eyes narrowing, “He didn't _do_ anything to us, so nothing could have shown up.” 

 _“Poppy.”_ Severus snapped in an impatient voice again, ignoring Harry, “The results of this Diagnostic are unreadable.”

“That is because you are not a Healer, Severus.” Madam Pomfrey said lightly, “You’re not versed in how to read results thoroughly.”

His jaw clenched, “Then can you _come here_ and _read it?”_

“Such an impatient man.” Madam Pomfrey muttered, giving Ron’s shoulder a small pat, “You’ll be just fine in a day or so, Mr Weasley, but for the rest of the day, I suggest you stay off that leg.”

“Yes ma’am.” Ron murmured, leaning forward to inspect his newly-healed leg himself.

“Alright, Mr Potter.” Madam Pomfrey lifted her wand, and unlike Severus, raised it to his temple, “Do you _feel_ unwell?”

“Just tired.” Harry mumbled, “My scar kind of hurts, too.”

Severus’ eyes flashed, and a knowing look passed over Madam Pomfrey’s face, followed by something akin to anger, though it paled in comparison to her father’s.

“She passed out in the library.” Severus jerked his head at Ariel.

Ariel bristled. _She_ had a name. His mood was… different. Severus was obviously furious, but it seemed like he was… upset with _her,_ not the fact that Black had been within ten feet of them all alone in the Forbidden Forest.

Her father’s eyes glittered at the two of them, “Your scars hurt?”

“Well I didn’t pass out for no reason.” Ariel provided in an irritated voice.

“If either of these children come into this infirmary with depleted magical cores _one more time…”_ Madam Pomfrey sighed, urging Harry to lie down, though he didn’t do so, “Not as serious as Miss Potter’s first year… but I don't understand _why_ this keeps happening, Severus.”

“They can’t very well control it.” Her father snapped.

Ariel heard the doors to the infirmary open, then, and the sounds of multiple footsteps approaching. Her father looked in the direction of the commotion sharply, and with a quick flick of his wand, snapped the curtains to their drape-made-room shut, and barked a Silencing Charm. Madam Pomfrey followed him, looking very put-upon.

“Bloody _hell,”_ Ron whispered, blue eyes wide, “Snape’s in a right state!”

“He’s not going to listen.” Ariel said nervously, twisting her hands in her lap, “He’s going to go after Sirius… what are we going to do?”

Harry’s face darkened, “We don’t let him.”

“We can’t _stop him,_ Harry!” Ariel hissed, giving him a questioning look, “Once he finds out Black’s an Animagus—”

“An Ani- _what?”_

“An Animagus— a wizard that can transform into an animal.” Ron supplied, sounding an awful lot like Hermione.

“But he _doesn’t_ know that.” Harry crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

Something heavy must’ve fallen against the ground because the floor began to vibrate. Ariel briefly noted that her father’s shadow was absent from behind the curtain, but Madam Pomfrey’s, Dumbledore’s, and Lupin’s were.

“Harry, we _have_ to tell him.” Ariel lowered her voice, even though the adults couldn’t hear them with the Silencing Charm up— it worked both ways. “If Black really is innocent—”

“You _don’t believe him?”_

“We spoke to him for five minutes! There’s no _proof!”_

“That’s why we have to talk to Lupin, like he said!”

 _“Or_ we’re letting Lupin walk right into a trap or something!”

“He’s _my_ godfather!” Harry hopped off the cot, fire in his face, “It’s _my_ call!”

Ariel and Ron shared a look, and for once, she didn’t argue. She nodded mutely. Talking to Lupin _did_ seem like their best bet…

“We can’t tell them,” Harry said, his words practically melding together at the speed he was speaking, “about him being a dog. And we can’t tell Snape he wanted us to talk to Lupin. If we’re going to help him, we’ve got to do this without him.”

Ariel didn’t like _that_ idea very much. Keeping things for her father didn’t seem like a safe option, because when he found out they’d lied— and he _always_ found out— Severus was going to hang them by their fingernails. Ariel was more likely than her brother, though. There was only so much her father could do to Harry

On the other hand, Severus going out and searching for Black himself terrified Ariel more than the prospect of him unleashing his wrath upon her and her brother.

Yes, keeping Black and Severus far away from each other seemed like a very good idea under the circumstances.

The curtain opened. It occurred to Ariel then, at the looks on their faces, that the _adults_ were the ones, for once, that had no idea what the hell was going on. Severus still looked like he was trying not to rip out his hair.

“Harry, Ariel,” Dumbledore’s blue eyes studied the both of them with a look of concern and mild curiosity, “would you like to tell us what happened?”

Ariel swallowed hard, and looked to her brother. His green eyes were so hard, they could’ve been chiseled from rock— emerald.

“Sirius Black wanted to talk to us.” Harry said plainly, giving the briefest of shrugs. It didn’t fit the rest of his demeanor.

Ariel fought the urge to shake her head and bury her face in her hands. He couldn't be _blunt_ with Severus ready to begin the second wizarding war.

 _“Talk to you?”_ Lupin asked in a tone that implied Harry had just spoken in fluent Mandarin.

“Talk to us.” Harry confirmed.

Dumbledore still appeared politely interested. Her father was doing a remarkable impression of fire-breathing dragon. Severus then began to sputter, obviously unable to formulate a quick response to _that,_ so it was Dumbledore that spoke again.

“And what did he say?” He asked, raising a silver eyebrow.

“That Peter Pettigrew was our parent’s Secret Keeper.” Harry replied.

Lupin made a sound that sounded like he was choking. He turned away so that Ariel’s couldn't see his face. Her father’s skin went the exact color of sour milk, and Professor Dumbledore appeared… surprised.

That was… odd, to say the least, and Dumbledore was many things.

“He said he was innocent.” Harry said quietly, looking at the floor, “And I believe him.”

Severus gave him a sharp, disbelieving look, _“Excuse me?”_

“Severus—” Dumbledore put a rebuking hand on his arm, “Let him speak.”

“He could have killed me if he wanted to.” Harry said, crossing his arms, “He could have killed Ron. Black was _wandless—_ why would he attack us without one?”

“He injured Weasley.” Severus pointed out with a snarl. Ron pressed his back against the pillows he was propped up against, like he was trying to disappear into them.

“Ron fell.” Harry lied. Ariel felt herself wince at that. She still didn't know how Ron had gotten hurt, but she didn't think it had to do with him losing his footing.

“Weasley _fell.”_ Her father repeated flatly.

“Black was only trying to get our attention.” Her brother said in a steely voice, “He came to _warn_ us.”

 _Now,_ Dumbledore looked puzzled, and Ariel wanted to turn invisible. Her stomach tightened, so much so that she thought she was going to be sick.

“Warn you?” The Headmaster asked, “Of what?”

Ariel prayed he wouldn't. She begged her brother with her eyes, even though she knew he had to.

“They said you were a Death Eater.” Harry gave her father an accusing glare.

The room went very, very quiet, the kind of silence that was loud and made your insides feel hollow. Lupin began to massage his temple forcefully.

“Who is _they?”_ Severus asked in a dangerous voice.

Harry looked at Ariel, finally, and she really wished he hadn't.

Something sharp cracked across her father’s face.

Ariel tried to glare back, “Well I wasn't going to _lie._ He _was_ telling the truth about that part, wasn’t he?”

“You choose _now_ to grow a conscience?” Her father sneered.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”

“What you said outside,” Lupin interrupted, holding up a hand, “about Sirius being here to take you away, what did you mean?”

“He thinks…” Ariel squirmed uncomfortably, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw realization flash across Lupin’s face. She didn’t know whether to be relieved, or disturbed he’d come to the right conclusion as quickly as he had.

Dumbledore was now frowning deeply, “He believes Severus has less than honorable intentions.”

Her father’s face went so white that he was nearly glowing, but not the kind that radiated fear. It was the like the remaining intensity of his rage had finally been set free. Ariel wondered if this was a preview of what her father was like when he wasn’t holding back. His eyes glittered with a newfound kind of hunger Ariel had never seen.

From behind her, she heard a small whimper come from Ron. Lupin put a hand on Harry’s arm as her brother’s face lost some of it’s coldness.

 _“That’s_ his cover?” Severus pushed through bared teeth.

“It’s obviously not true.” Dumbledore gave him a meaningful look, “Perhaps he is assuming, in the hopes that if it’s true, he’ll be able to lure them out.”

“Why are we discussing him as though _anything_ he says can be— Albus, he wouldn’t even _know_ I _have_ her!” Her father gestured wildly with his hands, and Ariel was grateful they weren’t going for his wand.

“If we are to believe he is a Death Eater,” Dumbledore looked at Severus over the edge of his half-moon spectacles, “then we must assume that he _does_ hear information from the outside.”

“He said Lucius told him.” Ariel offered quietly.

Dumbledore was staring at her father now like something had just been confirmed. She didn’t like the look.

“This is ridiculous!” Severus hissed, “Talking hypotheticals— we should be searching the fucking Forest—”

 _“Severus.”_ The Headmaster gave him a rebuking look at his language, but her father kept going, ignoring the interruption.

“This is the _second_ time he’s gotten past the Dementors— you assured me there’s plausible explanation for him having such easy access to them! Grabbing Harry in broad fucking _daylight—”_

“So why didn’t he just kill us?” Harry demanded.

“He’s playing mind games with you.” Severus snapped.

“Sirius isn’t like that.” Lupin said, “Or… _wasn’t._ He didn’t toy with people.”

“Yes, and you also believed he and Potter were blood brothers— sworn confidants, but we wouldn’t be here if _that_ were true, now would we?”

“And what if his story is true?” Lupin asked, lifting his chin with something akin to defiance. Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at her father, asking the same question.

“About _Pettigrew?”_

“About _you—_ him.”

“Pettigrew couldn't safeguard a Pygmy Puff.” Her father scoffed.

“He’s _dead.”_ Lupin snapped— it was the first time Ariel had ever heard him raise his voice, “Have _some_ respect.”

“Well, according to Black, he’s the reason we’re _in_ this situation –”

Her father’s icy glare turned its attention to Ariel, then. Somehow, it still burned, a wild flame writhing underneath.

“You aren’t speaking.” Severus nearly hissed.

Ariel blinked, “What would you like me to say?”

His eyes were so sharp now, they could’ve cut glass, “You charged after Harry as a result of the connection with your scars, did you not?”

Her stomach rolled, not knowing where he was headed with this, “Er— yes?”

“And what do _you_ think?” Severus drawled.

She didn’t like this. Her father didn’t _ask_ her opinion. His own consumed everything, because if something meant _danger,_ then there was no talking about it, unless the opposing party was Dumbledore, maybe. But even _then,_ it was difficult to make her father see something other than his usual fire and brimstone.

Unless… he knew they were hiding something, and this was his way of making her talk… making her slip up…

She hated Slytherins, sometimes. She hated lying to her father even more, even if she was potentially saving his life.

“I think I don’t want you looking for him.” Ariel tried to match his glare, but wasn’t sure it was having the same effect.

His lip curled.

“They _are_ unharmed.” Lupin said, grey eyes glinting in the morning light, “Shouldn’t we be glad, instead of turning this into an interrogation?”

Lupin definitely knew something was up, because challenging her father when he was in this kind of state was borderline suicidal.

“I’m sure you’d _love_ to debate your friend’s supposed innocence.” Severus said in a brittle, icy voice, “But unfortunately, the evidence contradicts whatever little story Black has woven.”

“Remus does have a point, Severus.” Dumbledore said, his blue eyes calculating, and yet, as bright as ever, “Regardless, however, I want your word that you won’t go after him. If what Harry and Ariel say is true—”

Ariel could have hugged him.

“— I don’t want you searching for him.” He finished, and her father’s skin went from white, to sallower than usual, “Not just for your own safety, but for theirs as well. Provocation would be adding more stress to an already stressful situation. We _will_ find him, Severus, but in the meantime, your place is here.”

Her father looked like he was about to go completely mental and start dueling the Headmaster or something, but instead his eyes closed. Severus leaned heavily against the metal pole holding the curtains up, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“They stay inside the castle at all times, then.” He finally said heavily, “No wandering onto the grounds unless they’re escorted.”

Harry groaned— Ariel fought the urge to. Lupin patted her brother’s arm sympathetically.

“That’s acceptable, given the circumstances.” Dumbledore nodded.

“And they stay within my sights.” Severus finally looked up, “At all times, save classes. Starting _now.”_

Lupin frowned, “That’s a bit excessive, don’t you think?”

“I’m sorry, were you not present for when the psychotic madman broke into the castle in the middle of the night, and then attacked two children on the same grounds?”

“He didn’t attack us!” Harry’s eyes flashed angrily, “I don’t need to be babysat!”

“Just because you _think_ you know _anything_ about Black,” Severus spat, “or anything about the very clear and present danger— you’re lucky to be _alive_ right now, you foolish child—”

“I want to go back to Slytherin.” He argued. Ariel tried to give him Quit-While-You’re-Ahead eyes, but everyone now seemed to be ignoring her.

“Then to Slytherin you’ll go.” Dumbledore said before her father could wring her brother’s neck, “I don’t see why Harry can’t spend the day in his dormitory if he wishes it.”

Severus glared at him murderously, “The _both_ of them experienced a pull with this blasted connection— I _told_ you this already, Albus. They both need _rest.”_

“What did Poppy say?”

As though she’d been directly summoned, the medi-witch appeared between Snape and Dumbledore. “They’re both fine— not nearly as much magical exhaustion as in time’s past.” She cited, “Though, I do recommend bedrest.” 

“Which they can find here.” _Where I can watch them,_ her father’s tone finished.

“You cannot keep Harry here without probable cause, Severus.” Dumbledore sighed tiredly.

“I am the boy’s _Head of House—”_

“And I am Headmaster of this school.” Dumbledore said in a stern voice, “And if Harry would like to return to his dormitory to rest, I believe we should allow him to do so. Remus, I wonder if you’d be so kind to escort him down?”

The look on her father’s face told Ariel that she wouldn’t be anywhere _near_ as lucky.

The curtain closed for a second time. 

“He’s going to find out.” Ariel whispered to her brother at the sound of the Silencing Charm going up once more, “Harry, if he’s innocent, I’m sure Dumbledore will do _something,_ but Dad _knows.”_

“He’s suspicious.” Harry hissed back, “Knowing and having a hunch are two very different things.”

“We have to tell him sooner or later.”

“You didn’t have a problem not telling _me_ he was a Death Eater!”

Her knuckles cracked against her side, “Because he’s _not.”_

“But he _was?”_

“That doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Oh yes it _does!”_

“Dad isn’t hurting anyone. We don’t know for sure that Sirius isn’t, either!”

“You have your godfather.” Harry snapped, “Let me have the one person who might care about me!”

Ariel flinched, “I care about you, Harry… so does Dad. I know he doesn’t show it much —”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He didn’t answer right away. Ariel took the momentary silence to share a look with Ron, who avoided her eyes, and looked at Harry sympathetically. His hand rubbed his wrapped leg.

“You need to give me some space for a while.” Harry finally said, not meeting Ariel’s gaze.

Her stomach twisted painfully. “Space?” She echoed.

“Yeah.” He said tonelessly, “I — _can’t —_ I need some time, okay?”

“But what about Sirius?” She asked, her bottom lip trembling.

Harry’s head snapped up at the sound of his godfather’s name, “He’s _my_ godfather; I should be the one to help him. Ron, Hermione and I’ll take care of it.”

“No,” She argued, “I told him _we’d_ do everything we could. He matters to me, too, if he really is innocent.”

“Have fun, with your father trying to kill him and all.” Harry said flatly.

“You’re going to get Black _captured_ if you go looking for him — or worse, get Kissed by a sodding Dementor.”

“I like my odds a lot better than yours, thanks very much.”

“Oi,” Ron said in a loud voice, “we’re all on the same side here. Stop fighting each other.”

“Not _all_ of us.” Harry said coolly, gesturing to the closed curtain, which ripped back a millisecond later. Severus glowered down at the two of them, obviously sensing the hostility in the air.

“What’s going on here?” He demanded.

“Nothing.” Harry shoved past Ariel, “Can I leave?”

Her father looked between the two of them, lips pursed. She prayed he wouldn’t take this moment to begin intervening in brother-sister affairs.

He stood aside, though the motion looked like someone had stabbed him in the back and twisted the blade, holding the curtain open for Harry, who stalked out without another word. Lupin looked briefly back at Ariel, and then, followed Harry out of the hospital wing. Ariel glared after him.

Now it was just her and Severus, and a wall of tension so thick she could have cut it with a knife. He fell into the chair beside her, closing the curtain allowing Ron to see into her “room.”

“Where’d Professor Dumbledore go?” Ariel asked, not really caring one bit. She wished he’d lingered and calmed her father down some more.

“Ministry.” It was a new curse, the way he said it.

“Oh.” She mumbled. That made sense. The adults had no reason to believe them, or rather, Black. She wondered if he was going to ask for more Dementors. Could he do that?

“I think he’s innocent, too.” Ariel told him when Severus failed to say anything else.

Severus groaned and buried his face in his hands. Ariel got the impression her presence was a burden he didn’t want to be saddled with right now.

“Will you at least _consider_ it?” She asked, annoyed with his reaction.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you are terrible at judging one’s character.”

It stung, though Ariel didn’t let it show, for once. Instead she sat up straighter and scowled at the top of his head, “You’re just saying that because you _want_ to hate him.”

“No,” Her father finally lifted his head, “I’m saying that because you are a foolish, naive _child_ who, once again, did not _think_ before she acted.”

“I had to do something— what if Black _had_ been trying to kill him? We would’ve been too late…”

“And if he had,” Severus’ eyes glittered, “so would you. You did it again. You ran right to him.”

Her heart felt like it was going to strangle her.

“Dad,” She swallowed the lump in her throat, “I couldn’t just—”

“No more talking,” Her father snapped, “before you say something that convinces me you may or may not have aided a felon today.” 

“At least there’s a chance he wasn’t an actual Death Eater.” She said as she turned her back to him.

The air behind her curdled.

* * *

 

Harry settled against the far wall, right outside of the Owlry, and gathered his dad’s cloak around him.

His hands traced over the names on the Map— he’d snagged it from Ariel just before Lupin had escorted him out of the hospital wing. Snape’s and Ariel’s names had followed suite as he’d watched from his hiding place after escaping the dungeons, and now they were circling each other in Snape’s quarters. Harry would have bet on his magic that they were having a row.

Hermione’s had been in the hospital wing for quite some time, right next to Ron’s name, and then it had floated about the entire castle all day long. Harry could tell she was searching for him, but he didn’t want to be found just yet. It wasn’t like he was keeping Hermione out of the loop, anyhow. Ron must’ve told her what had happened.

It was well after midnight about now, but that was all Harry knew about anything other than the names _Sirius Black_ and _Severus Snape_ rattling around in his skull. His brain felt like someone had turned the volume _way_ up— had forced him to hear words over and over and over…

_I can’t leave you_

_I’m not leaving you —_

It was burrowing deeper and deeper the more he thought about it, the more he tried to find justification in his head for what Sirius had said. About Pettigrew, his innocence, about _Snape._

Harry remembered watching Snape the day he and Ariel had rescued him from the Dursleys, and had wondered if somehow, _he’d_ ended up getting lucky. Snape was a lot of things — ugly, cruel, nasty — he picked on Ron in class and told Hermione she was a know-it-all. He hated his dad, had hated _Harry_ for it, at first.

On the pros side, Snape had saved his life, and continually _tried_ to keep bad things from happening to Harry and his sister.

And he’d loved his mum.

But then again, he was just protecting Ariel and Harry for _her,_ not really because he cared about _them,_ or more so, _Harry._ It was clear that when Snape thought no one was watching, he loved Ariel. Was that because she looked like their mum? If he’d taken in the both of them, would he have loved Harry because he had Lily’s eyes?

That was a bit… weird. And disturbing.

If Snape had loved Lily, why had he joined Voldemort, then? He hadn't denied it, and by the looks the professors had shared, it told Harry this wasn’t breaking news. Being a Death Eater didn’t seem like something people who _loved_ did, _especially_ if the madman they were joining wanted to eliminate Muggleborns. It was all very confusing, and made absolutely no sense. Harry wanted to ask Snape, ask Dumbledore, _why._ The Headmaster wouldn’t have let Ariel go to someone who worked for _Voldemort._

He’d made him go to the Dursleys…

Harry rose, the cloak falling from his shoulders, and chucked the acorn out the window.

His eyes went back to the Map, desperately searching for Sirius’ name, but it did not appear.

He wanted Sirius to be telling the truth more than he wanted to know the truth about Snape. He wanted it so badly, felt it ripping him apart from the inside out. Something had awakened inside of him when Sirius had grabbed him and _promised him he wasn’t leaving._ No one had ever held him like that, except for Snape…

But Snape was a liar, even after explaining away the lies.

Not _everyone_ in Slytherin was bad— Damon wasn’t, even though he came from a Death Eater family. Snape was supposed to have been the same. He was supposed to be the Slytherin in a school run by Gryffindors that Harry would have depended on – _had._

But Snape had gone bad, too, just like seemingly everyone else. Harry didn’t think he’d met any other Slytherins, besides Damon, who weren’t awful, or had come from Death-Eater-Parent backgrounds. Flint treated him all right, Harry supposed, but he’d never gone out of his way to make him feel welcome like Damon had. And Damon’s mother and father had _tortured_ Neville’s parents into madness.

Malfoy was the worst of the lot, and Crabbe and Goyle were too dense to fall into the _bad_ category. Zabini and Nott were fine— they’d never really given Harry a problem – they’d even been _nice_ on a couple of occasions, but tended to stay away to avoid getting on Malfoy’s bad side. Harry knew for a fact that Pansy had it out for his sister— she complained about her constantly to Millicent Bulstrode and Daphne Greengrass. The other two girls were too preoccupied with finding a Pureblood family to marry into— or at least, that’s what Damon had told him, since they’d never once approached Harry.

So Snape had been the only one who had fit the persona, per say. Ariel had always told him it was just because Snape hated _people,_ but being a former Death Eater changed things. He wasn’t a good person. Could you _be_ a good person after joining Voldemort?

He sniffled loudly, wiping at his face. It was the wrong time to cry, the wrong time to feel sorry for himself.

Which was why he didn’t hear the sound of footsteps slowly approaching.

“Harry?” Lupin’s voice felt like the wind, soft and prying.

He threw the cloak back over him, pressing himself against the windowsill, and clasped a hand over his mouth. If he told Snape he was out of bed, he’d be potion ingredients, and he wasn’t going to be any help to Sirius _that_ way.

“Harry.” Lupin called quietly, “Come out. I know you’re here.”

He slowly let the head of the cloak slide off his head, the rest of his body still invisible. The moonlight filtered through windows, rippling when Lupin rounded the corner, looking worn and worried, as he always seemed to be.

“How’d you know?” Harry muttered, looking down at his feet.

“Your dad used to sulk up here after losing a Quidditch match.” Lupin’s mouth twitched, “Here, and the kitchens.”

That hunger inside him moaned at the mention of his dad. He wanted to know more, wanted to listen to Lupin tell him about the dumbest, most inconsequential things, because maybe if Harry was like his dad, more than just his looks, his wasn’t destined to bad like the rest of Slytherin seemed to be.

_(Like Snape)_

“You’re breaking curfew,” Lupin said, “but I think you’re aware of that. Your dad’s cloak helps in a pinch, doesn’t it?”

“How did you manage to catch me?” Harry asked tonelessly, not trying to be cheeky, and not realizing that it might have come across as such until the words left his mouth.

“That parchment,” Lupin jerked his head at it, “I recognized it the second I saw you snatch it from your sister in the hospital wing.” Harry felt his heart skip a beat as the professor held a hand out, “May I?”

He nodded, thinking his Map— the keys to the kingdom, really— was about to be confiscated. He’d never find Sirius then…

 _“I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”_ Lupin whispered.

Harry’s head shot up at his words, eyes widening in amazement, “How’d you know?”

“They’re old friends.” He said softly, thumb grazing over the slowly fading words. The way he said _friends_ made them sound revered.

“You _knew_ them?” Harry asked, astonished, “Who were they?”

“One of them knows you rather well,” He smiled at him, “I believe you know him, too.”

Harry looked up at him in puzzlement. Lupin handed the Map back to him, and knelt down in front of him.

“Try and get the words to appear,” He said, “without actually doing it. Put your wand to the cover and say _‘reveal your secrets.’”_

“It’s not going to explode in my face or anything, is it?” Harry asked warily.

Lupin chuckled, “No, no, nothing like that. Trust me, Harry.”

He nodded, pressing the tip of his wand to the now-blank parchment, “Reveal your secrets!”

Words began to appear, and for a moment, Harry thought it had begun to work. He looked back up to Lupin, but the professor only shook his head and gestured to look again.

It wasn’t the cover from before this time— only four, separate sentences.

_Mr Padfoot offers his compliments to Harry Potter for trying, but regrets that he cannot grant access to such mischief making._

_Mr Moony would gladly accept Harry Potter’s offer, though he wishes he would say the right words._

_Mr Wormtail hopes Harry Potter will heed Mr Moony and Mr Padfoot._

_Mr Prongs is proud that Harry Potter found his map, and hopes he will use it in ways that will make him proud._

Lupin’s eyes told him everything.

His chest was a firework show.

“Dad?” Harry whispered.

* * *

 

Escorting Harry back to his office, Map in hand, Remus couldn’t help but hear his inner James prattling on inside of his head.

 _“How could you?”_ James would say, a look of mock horror on his face, _“You know what I always said, Moony— you either die a Marauder, or live long enough to see yourself become the professor.”_

Well, he wasn’t about to give the poor thing detention. He was, however, going to get the boy _and_ his sister killed if he didn’t speak up about Sirius’ Animagus.

_Liar liar liar_

_The truth truth truth what if he’s telling the truth truth truth_

Harry’s words had shaken him so badly, then when he’d returned to his office after bringing Harry back down to the dungeons, he’d downed two Calming Draughts. His hands were still trembling slightly, but he no longer felt like he was in some kind of exhilarating nightmare.

Because in the end, it had made _sense,_ when Remus’ anger had come cracking through his grief all over again, or at least, he’d _made it_ make sense. There _had_ been a mole, and Sirius had been it, his cold demeanor towards Remus pointing the finger at the werewolf connecting everything together. Peter hadn’t even been on the radar… not Wormtail, out of all of them. Remus had been the distraction, the monster, the traitor, the liability he’d always believed himself to be; the very one James and Sirius and Peter had assured him he wasn’t.

 _I trust you,_ Lily had told him, _if something were to happen, at least I know you and Sirius will take care of them._

Two attempts in a week’s time. Both times, Harry and Ariel had could out unscathed. Safe. Unharmed.

Harry was clutching the Map tightly to his chest as Remus corralled him into his office a little after midnight. He’d wanted to talk to both Harry _and_ Ariel, but Snape seemed about as approachable as a Blast Ended Skrewt. Really, could Remus blame him?

_He wanted to talk_

Once inside, he settled Harry down on one of the couches he’d set up in front of the fireplace, which had been roaring away since Remus had begun teaching, and hadn’t stopped. Remus had tried to make the place warm— inviting. Minerva had mentioned that Flitwick had some old upholstery stored away on the third floor. They were all mismatched, and would have given Lily an ulcer, but it was something. It was better than leaving the place bare. He couldn't afford to buy _actual_ furniture.

Neither said anything for a minute. The boy was looking at the Map like Remus had handed him the Elixir of Life.

“I know Sirius was my godfather.” Harry slowly as he settled the Map down on the coffee table.

Ah — they’d gone from _Black_ to _Sirius_ already.

Remus rubbed his hand over his mouth, “I suppose he told you that, too?”

“No,” He looked up, back towards the desk, where the grindylow sat, “Malfoy did, and then I asked Snape. He said it was true… I thought Malfoy might be pulling my leg, but…”

And _then_ he said—

“If you were mates with my dad, you were mates with Sirius, so you must have known he was a dog.”

Remus did not so much as breathe for a very long time. His vision went fuzzy, starlight and blurry colors.

Harry had him— the small boy sitting right across from him. James’ face, but Lily’s sincerity in those green eyes, the most expressive part of Harry’s face.

Remus swallowed audibly and bowed his head, and rubbed the palms of his hands together.

“Harry,” He said slowly, “I—”

“That’s how he he found us.” Harry leaned forward, “I followed him into the forest after he started dragging Ron away.”

Remus felt like he was going to be sick, “Harry— I am—”

“I know you aren’t working with him, like Snape thinks.”

_Liar liar liar_

“Harry—” He was going to choke on the wave of guilt coming crashing down.

“I’m not here to make you feel guilty.” Harry said, trying to sound reassuring, “I’m not going to tell, either. I need your help.”

 _“Help?”_ Remus echoed, confusion quickly chasing away guilt, “Harry, after today’s events, I’m sure I’m the last person you want assisting you with anything.”

“He said to trust you.” Harry said quietly, “And I want to, too.”

_Liar liar liar_

Remus took a steadying breath. He didn’t know how to handle illegal activities with a thirteen-year-old. James and Sirius and Peter had been that old when they’d started researching the Animagus transformation… but this was different. _Very_ different.

“You realize that if someone were to find out you were sitting on this information…” Remus said slowly, holding the boy’s gaze, “it would not end well.”

“You mean for _you?”_ Harry said, frowning, “I would never tell, if that’s what—”

“Don’t worry about me,” Remus waved him off, “worry about yourself. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Do you believe me, then?”

_I’d die for you and those kids, Prongs_

_Albus? What’s happened?_

_Don’t say that Padfoot— it’s not going to come down to it_

_I’m afraid there’s been… a terrible thing has happened. Please, won’t you sit down—_

_I just wanted you to know_

Remus felt his conscious tighten it’s condemning grip around his heart when he did not deny the possibility of Sirius being innocent. Harry’s words rang in his ears from earlier— how Sirius _hadn’t_ hurt them… a claim of protection from Snape, who, just months ago, Remus would have been horrified at the knowledge that _he’d_ had his goddaughter.

_“Have you ever thought about ol’ Snivellus being behind one of those masks?” Sirius had brought up one morning, days after a battle._

_Remus seemed to be the only one who noticed how Lily’s grip around Ariel, napping in her lap, had tightened._

_“No,” James had said nonchalantly, “I try not to think of him at all, actually. Pass the marmalade, would you Moony? Wormtail, stop staring at the frying pan — the bacon will be done soon enough, for Merlin’s sake.”_

And it was a very Sirius-Thing to do, breaking out of wizarding prison to row with Snape.

“I— I honestly don’t know what to make of this just yet.” Remus said, running a hand through his thinning hair, “Peter being your parent’s Secret Keeper.” He quickly took out his wand and gave a few swishes, the sound of ceramics clattering from behind his desk. Tea seemed to be the proper thing to make when debating the innocence of one’s godfather.

“He looked scared.” Harry whispered.

 _I was scared too, but something terrible happened that shouldn’t have,_ said the child behind the words.

Remus nodded, giving the boy a tiny smile, “So, then, you _were_ telling the truth about him thinking Severus is… vituperative?”

Harry nodded, “He thinks he’s getting his long overdue revenge on James Potter.”

Remus gave a humorless laugh and rubbed his face with his hands, “Of course he does.” He muttered, “The rivalry lives on.”

The boy’s stomach grumbled, _loudly,_ then, as if voicing its concern as well.

Remus gave Harry a look, “When’s the last time you’ve eaten? I don’t recall seeing you at dinner.”

Harry shook his head, “No, sir, not since breakfast.”

Remus made a disapproving noise under his breath and stood up, “Well, let’s fix that.” He rapped the table twice with his knuckle, causing a buffet of food to appear on the coffee table.

Grabbing a sandwich hesitantly, Harry seemed to make himself more comfortable on the couch, “Will you help, then?”

Well, Remus had to had it to him— Harry didn’t beat around the bush. Neither had James or Lily.

“What are you asking me, exactly?” Remus held out his hand, receiving the tea that flew in from his quarters.

“He wants you to meet him.” Harry said expectantly, “He didn’t say where… but he said that if anyone could help, it’d be you. He needs at least one adult to think he’s innocent, right?”

“Proving himself not-guilty would be a good place to start, yes.” Remus agreed.

 _He didn’t say where—_ because he didn’t need to.

“I wanted to go with him.” Harry whispered, “Ariel wouldn’t have let me, but…”

If Lily was here, she would have ripped herself to shreds to make her son feel better. Remus could feel that part of him, the nurturing type that had rocked her children to sleep countless times, and took the boy’s hand tightly in his own.

Lupin gave him a meaningful look, “You know that wouldn’t have been possible. If he’d taken you… things would have gone from bad to significantly worse. Not to mention that I don’t think Severus would have appreciated that in the slightest.”

“I know.” Harry replied, setting down the half-eaten sandwich, staring at Remus’ hand like he was starved for touch, “I just… I felt horrible. I mean, if he escaped for _us_ , and I refused to go with him. I can’t help feeling guilty that he’s all alone out there.”

He shook his head, “Sirius isn’t thinking clearly, Harry. He’s not being rational.”

“Sirius isn’t going to try and hurt Snape, right? He’s… he wouldn’t do that… if my Dad had been friends with him...”

_You exploited Remus— for fuck’s sake, Sirius, you could have gotten him a death sentence! If I hadn’t stopped Snape—_

_It was a joke… please, James! Remus— Remus I’m sorry!_

Remus almost spilt the tea he was attempting to drink. 

“We’ll need to be cautious about this, Harry.” Remus said as he placed the cup onto the table, “Severus may prove to be… _difficult,_ and I’m sure Sirius isn’t going to be easy either. If he broke out to rescue you, as far as he knows right now, that’s still the plan.” He made sure Harry was looking at him before he went on, “You need to promise me that the next time you or Ariel sees Sirius, you will come to me. I need to speak with him before we move forward. Understand?”

Harry nodded eagerly, “So you’ll do it? You’ll meet him?”

_He’d kill for the opportunity— Sirius—_

He was such a coward.

“I’ll do what I can.” Remus promised, meaning every word of it, even though his conscience laughed at that. If he _was_ doing everything he could, he’d be in Dumbledore’s office right about now. He’d be telling Harry to forget about it, give him detention and ban him from looking for Sirius again. Remus knew he wouldn’t confront Harry again— he’d wait, and after they did, making sure he stayed away until it was safe again would be key.

“And… well, seeing as they’re everywhere, and they’re after Sirius…” Harry’s eyes were beginning to hold a pleading quality to them— or perhaps they always looked like that. “Snape said… he mentioned a charm to repel the Dementors. I want to be able to protect myself… and him.”

He was his father’s son, then. It was the first glimpse of something pure-James— willing to risk his neck for something he believed in. Though, James had not been a child starved for affection.

Surprised, under everything else, Remus nodded, “There is. It’s called the Patronus Charm. It’s highly advanced magic, for someone your age.”

“He said to ask you to teach it to me. I don’t think Snape _can.”_ Harry admitted.

Remus had a brief mental image of Snape trying to cast a Patronus. It would probably be a giant bat, or maybe a snake of some sort, if he could even _produce_ one. Even as a man, a protective and seemingly devoted father, Snape was still for unfit human consumption. Remus hadn’t been able to conjure a corporeal Patronus since before James and Lily had died. It seemed even less likely than someone as cruel and emotionless as _Snape_ could do it.

He nodded slowly, “I can’t speak for Severus, but if you’re willing, it’d be my pleasure to teach you.”

Harry nodded, giving him a thank-you with his eyes. His hand tentatively reached for the Map again. He hadn’t asked about it, but Remus didn’t think they was anything else to say on the matter. It felt, in the midst of everything else, to give the boy _something._

Until he could give him Sirius.

Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’ll have the final daily upload tomorrow morning – please review, in the meantime! :) x


	67. It Comes Back to You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Guys. Guys. We’re back where we fucking left off. In celebration, here’s a longass authors note and some news:
> 
> I will post a N E W chapter tomorrow (Sunday), so keep an eye out for then. My posting schedule will be every Sunday/Monday from now on.
> 
> If you want to keep track of updates/more info on the fic, you can follow me on tumblr under lupinlaughed and track the tag redsorrow. Or just scroll through my RS tag on the actual blog page, if you’re interested. There are some oneshots people have requested of this fic under my writing tag as well.
> 
> If you’re an older reader, I thank you for your patience, truly.
> 
> I apologize for what happens in this chapter, but I had to *crawls under rock* I hope you know that I don’t make these characters suffer without reason.

 

Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but Severus could have sworn his daughter looked angry.

It was a ridiculous thing, to think that Ariel had _any_ reason to be upset with _him,_ since the girl had quite literally gone running right into danger’s waiting arms— right to Black, the way Lily had gone running to Potter.

His anger was not burning away like it usually always did. It seemed to have found a hearth in Severus’ heart, burning a hole through his chest as he watched the girl silently. How many times was he going to have to keep doing this? The Dark Lord was still nothing but shadow and vapor, and somehow, the girl kept throwing herself to the wolves— the boy kept _almost_ dying. Only this time, everyone was looking at Severus like he was losing his mind— which he quite possibly was, but that was besides the point. The inquisitive look on Dumbledore’s face, the look of _hope_ on the werewolf’s…

The rage in the boy’s that said, _“you’re a bad person and I trusted you.”_

_Fucking_ Sirius Black.

It was all a ploy, like James Potter had been. Spin a web, weave it into what you _wanted_ the person to see. For Potter, it had been the Golden Boy of Gryffindor act, just enough to lure in Lily. Though, granted, Severus could only find enough blame besides his own in that situation. Black, however, was creating something that made Severus want to rip the foundations of the castle out from underneath them all in the hopes that a block of brick would squash Black like a bug.

He wondered, then, what Black was trying to deceive Harry with. The Death Eater comment would have done the job on it’s own— but the idea of _abuse_ was…

The spell he’d used on Lucius… perhaps…

No— it was impossible, because then that would buy into the idea that Black was innocent, which was complete and utter madness, the things a child could easily be lulled into believing.

What did it matter that Harry knew about him being a Death Eater? Severus kept trying to push it back, below everything that was at the surface, but it wouldn’t leave him alone. He would have learned soon enough— when the Dark Lord returned and the role of spy would have to be filled once more.

_They told me_

He could only imagine what Ariel had said in that brief confrontation. Massaging his temple forcefully, Severus lifted his eyes to look back towards his daughter. She was scribbling away in a textbook, marking notes. She still let a spot of ink drop onto the pages before writing.

Her eyebrows had furrowed together— they hadn’t spoken a word since her comment— _at least there’s a chance he’s not a Death Eater—_ and Severus didn’t think he could take the silence— _at least there’s a chance he’s not a Death Eater—_ or speaking to the girl— _at least there’s a chance he’s not a Death Eater._

Hitting below the belt. She’d begun to become quite good at that. Severus wondered if this development was himself in her, or Lily. He’d been the only one really prone to her temper when it had been sparked. Lily was the only person— well, save their child— who could match him when in a rage.

Ariel was keeping something from him. Severus could feel the suspicion rumbling in his bones. Not talking when something potentially life-threatening had occurred meant Ariel had done something wrong— or at least, something that would make Severus want to hurt someone. When she’d been younger, especially at the start, he’d gone to Dumbledore to calm down. He couldn’t do that here— he had seen the receptiveness in the old coot’s eyes the second the boy had spoken of Black being innocent. Severus believed that _Ariel and Harry_ believed Black, but the idea of Pettigrew… the pathetic little thing of a boy, safeguarding Lily and Harry and _his child_ was ludicrous. Not even Potter could have been _that_ stupid. Black had _confessed—_ no trace of Pettigrew, but a finger…

Yes, he was most definitely going to do something he regretted if Ariel didn’t start talking.

Her face had pinched together, the quill no longer moving across the pages. Ariel’s lips pulled back into a scowl, and Severus noticed the pad of her thumb pressing dangerously against the quill.

_Three… two…_ Severus counted mentally.

The quill broke in half with an audible _snap_. Ariel slammed the textbook down, and stood up.

“I want to leave.” Her voice was icy and decisive, her chin squared.

Severus ignored her, letting his eyes burn a hole into the desktop. Silence allowed him to try and curb his anger, which wanted to wrap its hands around her and shake the girl until her teeth rattled. It also gave the impression that he didn’t care whatever the hell she wanted right now, which he didn’t. Let her call him a bastard, a Death Eater— Ariel could curse and scream if that’s what she wanted to do, but it would be a cold day in hell before Severus let her out of these dungeons without him.

_“Dad.”_ Ariel said, unabashed annoyance in her tone.

“Save your energy and sit back down. You’re not going anywhere.” Severus forced through gritted teeth. He didn’t know what it was— perhaps it was the demand and how utterly _stupid_ it sounded to him— or maybe it was the boy’s face in his head and her low blow in his ears, because he could feel his blood boiling.

“I have _classes_ and _studying_ to do, Dad.” She sank into one of the chairs opposite his desk and crossed her arms, “What about _those?”_

“I’ll be escorting you.” Severus sneered, looking her in the eye to let her know how serious _he_ was.

A look of pure horror washed over her face, black eyes widening, “You— you can’t!”

He raised a sardonic eyebrow as to say, _“can’t I?”_

“You’re going to shadow me for the rest of the year?” Ariel looked like she was going to be sick, and Severus’ suspicion mounted. What was the girl hiding that he didn’t want him seeing? Her little chat with Bellatrix’s son up in the Garden… the fear in her eyes when she spoke of Black…

“Is that a problem?” Severus asked softly, letting a considerable amount of venom leak into his voice.

Ariel didn’t respond, but the air between them seemed to crackle. He looked down to the essay he was attempting to grade. It was Longbottom’s, and he was having a field day with it.

“You’ve been different,” She said quietly, then, and at this, Severus lifted his eyes, “since Black escaped. It’s like… all the hate you feel towards him and James and Remus is all you care about. You’re not even nice to _me_ anymore.”

_Nice._ She was trying to break him by using the word _nice_ in reference to _him._ The girl could give less of a damn about how he was _feeling._ She only wanted her freedom.

“I am never _nice.”_ Severus told her coldly, “I simply tolerate some more than others. As for _you,_ your reckless and blatant disregard for your safety deem this necessary.”

“You can’t just _keep_ me prisoner until he’s captured!” Her voice had taken on a desperate edge.

“Oh, I can,” Severus stood and leaned across the desk so that his hooked nose was inches away from hers, “and I _will.”_

Ariel rose as well, “Do you really think this is going to stop Sirius from finding us? You’re acting crazy!”

His heartbeat doubled, white hot fury shooting through his blood. The rims of his vision were shimmering.

“Is that a _threat?”_ Severus hissed.

The color drained from her face, “What? N-no, of course not!”

“Do you _know_ what he’s doing?” He hissed, “He is baiting you, planting doubt inside your heads, so that when you go flying through the Forest once more, you’ll be running straight to the end of his wand!”

“I’m not going to go _looking_ for Sirius, if that’s what you’re so afraid of.” Ariel huffed, looking exasperated, “I didn’t go looking today! I thought that if I snuck up on Black… maybe I could save Harry, but he didn’t _need_ saving! He’s not after us— he’s after _you!_ I haven’t done anything to make you think I can’t be trusted!”

“I don’t fear what you’ll do,” _He was he was terrified,_ “I _know_ you’ll do something equally reckless— put yourself in harm’s way to prove whatever Gryffindor nonsense is rattling about in that head of yours.”

“If you would just _listen—”_

“Let me make some abundantly clear to you,” Severus slowly rounded around the desk menacingly, “You will not leave these quarters until Black has been Kissed, or arrested. I’d prefer the former, but until that _joyous_ occasion, you are staying _put!”_

“You won’t even _consider_ the possibility that you’re all wrong!” Her fists balled at her sides, and she rocked on her heels, as though trying to make herself taller somehow, “You’re too concerned with just _hating_ everyone— what if they _did_ put Black away by mistake, when it was that Pettigrew bloke?”

“Then tell me where he is!” Severus shouted at her.

Her eyes widened, “I… why would I…”

“You’re keeping _something_ from me.” Severus hissed, “I know you are. You’re never silent when something is happening. Your brother did all of the talking, because you _know_ something I don’t, and you didn’t want it to slip.”

“I don’t know where Sirius went,” Ariel lifted her head in defiance, “but even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

He grabbed her chin as Ariel shrank away, “And _why— is— that?”_

“Because he’ll hurt you.” She said in a small voice, “If he thinks you're the danger, and _you_ think _he_ is… I don't want anything to happen to you.”

Of all the ridiculous _FUCKING THOUGHTS—_

“It may have escaped your notice,” Severus hissed, “but I will do _whatever_ it takes to protect you and your brother, come hell or high water, and believe me; I can become the hell _and_ the high water. If you know something about Black that is hindering the Ministry from locating him, you. Need. To. Tell. Me.”

Ariel bit her lip, her hands wringing themselves in her robes.

Her grabbed the front of her cloak and pulled her close, He could easily use _Legilimens_ on her— she wasn’t anywhere _near_ skilled enough to be able to block his attack.

He couldn’t do that…

“You’re grounded,” He snarled, “until further notice. No little meet-ups with your friends, your brother, or your godfather. Now get out of my sight.”

“You already have me under house arrest!” The fire inside his chest was roaring back at him in her eyes, “You’re going to keep me all to yourself now, too?”

_I don’t need you to tell me who I should spend my time around_

_I won’t let you—_

_Let me? Let me?_

_“I_ am not the disobedient child!”

“I haven’t disobeyed!” Her volume was climbing, trying to match his, “I know what I was doing, and I would do it again!”

The thing behind his Occlumency cracked his shields right down the middle.

“You _DON’T!”_ Severus boomed, advancing on her before she could scuttle back, “You foolish, naive girl! People like him will eat you alive— they will do and say whatever they can to make you vulnerable, and then, they will rip you apart from the inside out!”

Her face went as red as her hair, bristling at his words, “I think I have a pretty good judgement of who to trust, thanks very much.”

“Says the girl who has befriended the son of the Dark Lord’s right hand!” Severus sneered, slamming his hand against the desk, “The girl who ran right to the the _same_ Dark Lord and ended up under an Unforgivable— who ran to a wanted Death Eater! The same foolish, reckless _brat_ that opened up that blasted Diary and thought to herself, _‘this seems like a splendid idea!’_ The sheer _arrogance_ one would have to possess— or perhaps it really is just stupidity— or _weakness—_ to have to continually make the same mistakes and have to _nerve_ to question me time and time again!”

By the time he had finished, he was nose to nose with her again. He could hear his heartbeat pulsing in his ears, something banging on the inside of his temple. Severus turned, leaning heavily against the desk. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to shove it all back down down _down—_ with Sirius fucking Black and James mother _fucking_ Potter—

There was a choked breath from behind him.

When he turned back, the hurt and pain were no longer twisting Ariel’s thin face. Her black eyes had gone bright, like something from within was churning behind them, mouth set in a tight line. Her wand was clutched tightly in one of her hands, the other balled at her side. She was vibrating— it couldn’t be called shaking— and Severus could have sworn he heard humming in the air.

He was staring at himself, right after Lily had called him Snivellus.

Severus swallowed, a foreign pain lodged inside his throat, “Ariel… child, I—”

“Do you know how much thinking and feeling I’ve done?” She asked softly, a low rumble of thunder, “It’s terrible. And nothing’s come of it.”

“I did not mean...” _Idiot idiot idiot._

“I know what you meant.” Ariel said, her voice oddly hollow, the way the wind moved through bare trees in wintertime.

And then she turned on her heel and marched to the door, throwing it open.

_“Ariel,”_ Severus tore after her, “get _back_ here!”

She didn’t stop. In fact, Ariel seemed to pick up the pace, at least, until Severus’ long legs caught up with her and he pulled her to a halt in the middle of the corridor just outside their quarters.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Severus snapped, “You cannot just go waltzing about the castle— you are _grounded—”_

“I’m proving you wrong.” Ariel shook her arm free and gave him a horrible look, like he was confessing to a murder.

“You’re not proving _anything_ , you ridiculous girl—”

“I’M _NOT_ WEAK!” She shrieked at him.

Her voice echoed up and down the halls— she was surrounding him on all sides, for a long moment. Her breathing was labored and uneven. Severus rubbed a hand over his face, finding that he was much calmer than he should have been. He supposed it was the guilt trying to eat him alive for shouting at her like that—

_She deserved it,_ said the Slytherin in him, _she’s hiding something._

_You didn’t have to smash her confidence into pieces,_ said the Ravenclaw.

_She’s only a child,_ said Hufflepuff.

“Ariel,” Severus warned, “so help me, I will put you in a Body Bind and levitate you back to your room.”

“Then _do_ it!” Ariel yelled, opening her arms wide.

“Don’t think I won’t.” Severus threatened, lip curling, “If you don’t stop this nonsense, you’re going to very much regret it. Your _hurt feelings_ don’t pardon your abominable behavior.”

“I’m _going_ to see Remus.” She shot back, “And if you try and stop me, I’m just going to keep trying, so I guess you’d better Body Bind me or whatever it is. Shouldn’t be a problem, really, since I’m just a weak half-wit, right?”

Fucking _werewolf—_

“Ariel…”

She turned again, but Severus still had a firm hold on her arm. Ariel eyed his hand like it was something Peeves had shoved inside of a toilet.

“It is well after midnight,” He said in a low voice, trying to calm her— and himself— the best he could, “the entire castle is sleeping. You cannot just impose yourself on him in the middle of the night.”

“Since when do _you_ care about whether or not Lupin is going to be _bothered?”_

She had a point, but putting it aside, Severus did not want the werewolf seeing her in this state. It was like fully stocking his arsenal the next time Severus told him to fuck off.

“I don’t,” He told her, thoroughly vexed with her, and himself, “but your little tantrum is hardly a reason to go trekking through the castle while the _mass murderer_ is still on the loose. You’re staying _here.”_

Ariel almost seem to shrink, the light shining from her eyes dimming, though just slightly. She looked down at her feet. It was clear that she was trying to gather her wits, instead of becoming angrier.

“I want to see him.” Ariel whispered.

_I don’t want you,_ her face said.

Severus didn’t know what it was— perhaps it was the look in her tight face, or the way she shook still, the small fists flexing at her sides— but he did not say _no_ again.

Ariel turned and began to walk away once more, and Severus followed.

* * *

 

Ariel didn’t know what the emotion making her stomach churn was. Maybe it was misery— or embarrassment? Hurt was too small of a word.

Ariel imagined this was what Fawkes must feel like on a burning day— when he would let out a cry and shrivel up in what appeared to be a painful death. Ariel had only seen it happen once, when she was four, and Dumbledore hadn’t realized how close Fawkes had actually been to kicking the bucket, or he wouldn't have let her into his office that day. Needless to say, Ariel had been horrified, and her father had nearly shouted the Headmaster’s ears off for letting her see it. Now, she envied it— felt the fire deep within her and wanted it to stop, but at the same time, she couldn't get enough. It felt _good,_ in a sad kind of way. It chased away the ache in her heart.

Her father was practically on top of her as they walked up to Remus’ office. She’d begun to refer to Lupin by his first name in her head, because if she was going to get to know him, she couldn't keep thinking of him as a professor all the time.

When they arrived at the Defense classroom, her father’s eyes seemed to sharpen.

Ariel raised her hand and knocked on the door without hesitation.

Severus let out a snarl of exasperation from behind her.

_“Sorry,”_ Ariel turned her head to glare, “I don’t feel being rude and Hexing down the door like _you.”_

He didn't respond, but his coal eyes were glittering dangerously.

She raised her hand to knock again, but this time, the door slowly creaked open, as though it hadn't been properly shut. Ariel curled her fingers around the frame, taking a small step forward and into the office.

“Professor Lupin?” Ariel called inside quietly.

There was no answer, and far too dark to see anything.

“Remus?” She tried again.

Her father made a sound of revulsion at his first name.

She crept further into the empty classroom, her father right behind her. Ariel could feel his robes brushing against her ankles.

“He’s probably asleep.” Severus rumbled, “Let's go.”

No sooner had he said that did the door stationed at the front of the room open, light filtering in and softly illuminating the room. Remus’ silhouette filled the doorway, his hair terribly disheveled.

“Ariel?” Lupin’s hoarse voice called, sounding a bit bewildered, “Severus? What in Merlin’s name are you doing here?”

 “I… I couldn’t wait until morning.” She wrung her hands around her wand, “I was wondering… did you and the other professors get rid of that Boggart yet?”

Her father’s footsteps stopped dead in their tracks somewhere behind her. Remus looked past her, presumably at Severus, with a worried question in his kind eyes. Ariel cleared her throat, in case her father tried threatening him with a lip curl or something.

Remus raised an eyebrow as he glanced back to her, “No— we decided to keep it, in case it proves useful next year, or perhaps for testing later on. Why?”

“She thinks she has something to prove.” Severus muttered.

“I’d like to have a go at it,” Ariel said loudly, over the last of her father’s words, “if that's alright.”

Remus blinked, “The hour is rather odd, but… if you feel you’re prepared…”

“I am.”

“Am I allowed to ask what this is about?” He sighed, like he somehow already knew the answer.

“No,” Her father’s voice called from over her head, “you’re not.”

Remus gave a short nod, his face still greatly puzzled. He took a step back, slowly closing the door to his quarters, when Ariel caught a glimpse of a mess of raven black hair leaning against the arm of a couch.

“Is that Harry?” Ariel asked, craning her neck to get a better look.

She could practically hear her father’s neck snap in the direction of the now-closed doorway.

“Why is the boy here?” Severus demanded.

“I don’t believe I’m allowed to talk about it.” Remus said lightly, though his tone was mocking in a funny sort of way— or, at least it was to Ariel. She didn’t dare look back to see the look on her father’s face.

“Is he okay?” Ariel asked anxiously.

He waved her off, “He’s just fine— we were speaking, earlier, and we lost track of time. I thought it best if he spent the night in my quarters… with everything that happened earlier today…”

Her father’s presence was looming over them like a dark shadow, his anger striking the cold night air boiling hot.

Remus silently lit several of the candles lining the wall where the windows were as Ariel nervously continued twisting her hands around her wand. Besting Tom wasn’t what she was worried about. No— Ariel was thoroughly convinced that when he walked out of that wardrobe, she wouldn’t choke— it was more of her being _able._ She wasn’t _weak._ Gryffindors weren’t allowed to be _weak._ Ariel could be brave, she could do this, she _could…_ she would prove her father _wrong_ and be like her mum, and him—

What would Remus think when Tom stepped out?

_(Well, it was too late to turn back now)_

She began to inch her way towards the wardrobe as Lupin removed the cloth hanging over it. Dust particles filled the air, and Ariel watched them fall to the ground and spin about in the air.

“Ariel,” Her father’s voice barked, cutting through the night air like an arrow, “come here.”

Annoyed and ready to get this over with, Ariel threw a scowl over her shoulder. Her father’s face was half shrouded with darkness, making him appear like some sort of shadow person. His robes made him look bigger— or maybe it was the fact that he was so angry.

Ariel dragged her feet as she reluctantly walked over to him, grimacing as she met Severus’ eyes.

“You don’t need to do this.” Her father said in a low voice, one only she could hear. Remus was still all the way over by the wardrobe.

“What, afraid I’ll botch this too?” Ariel asked heatedly, “Think if the Boggart starts talking, it’ll convince me to let it eat me?”

“Enough cheek!” He snapped, “I won’t have it, do you understand me?”

She glared up at him, letting the lump in her throat fuel its potency, “I can do this. I _will_ do this.”

“You’re being irrational.”

“And _you’re_ being hateful!” Ariel spat.

His eyes hardened, if that was somehow possible at this point, “I have every _reason_ to hate Black, after what he’s done.”

“If he’s actually _done it.”_

_“Ariel.”_ His hand landed on her shoulder before she could stop him. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

_Well it’s a bit too late for that, you great git,_ she thought to herself.

“I — can — do this.” Ariel hissed, “I’m _not_ weak.”

“I did _not_ mean that you were—”

She strutted away before he could finish, feeling his eyes boring into her back. Remus was watching with a frown on his face. Ariel gave him a nod, reaching inside her robe sleeve for her wand. She’d show him— she knew what she was doing— what she was capable of—

“Ready?” Remus asked, talking his place at her side, his own wand raised.

“Ready.” Ariel nodded, gripping her own so tightly that her hand cramped. She must become a lion-hearted girl, ready for a fight.

He gave a flick of his wrist, and wordlessly, the lock on the door went _click!_  

Ariel silently approached the wardrobe.

The room was so dimly lit that it took a moment for her to realize that it had stepped out. It was simply a black mass— tall and lean, indiscernible. But then she saw the robes spill out from the wardrobe— her heart leaped up into her throat as the name _Tom Tom Tom_ rattled around inside of her head. She was prepared for him; she’d always be prepared to face him again should it come to it—

But the figure, Ariel soon realized, was taller than Tom, taller then the boy who had pulled her hair in the Chamber. And the hair… it was shoulder length and hanging about his face— the same color, but not neatly combed and short…

Remus’ hand was on her shoulder, suddenly, though Ariel barely noticed it. The shape was moving forward, gliding across the floor and into the pale moonlight. Its face lifted, meeting her eyes, and then—

She was staring at her father.

Remus’ grip on her arm became painful.

The wand in her hand was heavy— too heavy to keep holding all of a sudden, and so it fell to the floor with a clatter. Boggart-Severus smiled at her the way Tom had, and began to lift up his sleeve. The moonlight hit his skin, making him look like he was glowing, even more ghostly, and then he was showing her a mark— a skull with a snake sliding out of the mouth, dark as fresh ink—

Ariel’s entire chest felt tight, like it was squeezing her, her head full of starlight—

Remus was in front of her thin, Boggart-Severus twisting into that pale, glowing orb. There was a shout of words, though Ariel couldn’t hear. Her entire head felt like it had been shoved underwater. Everything was blurry and muted, and she couldn’t _breathe—_

Her father— her _real_ father— was standing in the doorway.

Ariel stood and stared, and wished, in that moment, to be like a phoenix— to be able to turn into nothing but ash, and fall away with the wind.

* * *

 

Severus had somehow found his way back to the dungeons.

He felt like something was trying to claw its way out of her chest. It was beyond grief— it was something he couldn't name, hadn't felt before, something he didn't know how to handle. If he could have ripped it out of himself, he would have. Had he… had he…

The picture on the mantle asked him _“what is it?”_ with her eyes, and Severus shoved her into a drawer.

He did not sleep.

* * *

 

Remus didn’t have a clue what to do.

Ariel was trembling like a leaf, and the compassion gripping his heart was painful, but he didn’t know how to move forward from this moment. Remus didn’t know if he could, without seriously hurting Snape.

He leaned heavily against the desk and let his posture sag. The door had been left wide open— Snape hadn’t slammed it, like Remus would have expected him to. He’d left the second the wardrobe had clicked shut once more without a single word.

The girl finally snapped to attention then, her dark eyes following Remus’.

“Dad?” Ariel croaked.

“Ariel…” Remus knelt down in front of her and let his hand move to the base of her neck, “Look at me, sweetheart.”

She blinked several times, and then, began to try wriggle out of his grip, “I… I have to go after him… I have to make sure Dad’s okay…”

“No, sweetheart,” Remus told her firmly, “look at me.”

Her eyes finally went to his face, wide and alarmed, “H-he… he won’t… I have to tell him…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself.” He told her softly, “At least, not now.”

“I’m not afraid of him.” Ariel whispered, though it sounded like it was more to herself, “I’m _not.”_

Something inside of Remus told him that it was the response of a frightened child, one who had obviously been _completely_ taken off guard with what had come out of that wardrobe. He was such a coward. All his regret was collectively pooling into his conscious, telling him that _he had indirectly done this— if you hadn’t run Ariel and Harry wouldn’t be where they were—_

The more rational side of his brain, albeit, the one that wasn’t trying to kill him with horror, told him to make the girl comfortable— to _comfort._ Remus could deal with Conscious later.

_(He’d be dealing with Sirius later, anyhow)_

Remus gently pried her fingers off of her wand, which was encased in an iron-like grip around her thin fingers. Ariel let go while she realized what he was trying to do, but then her fingers curl into her palms. The rest of her body suggested that if she wasn’t upright, she’d curl into herself.

Remus placed the wand on the desk, and gradually urged her to sit down in a chair.

“Wait here.” He told her once Ariel had sat. She didn’t respond— her eyes had glazed over with a faraway look.

He quickly hurried into his quarters, careful not to wake Harry, who was thankfully still fast asleep on the old sofa, and grabbed a blanket from the rusty cabinet Minerva had given him.

“I would bring you into my quarters, but I don’t want to wake Harry.” Remus explained as he draped the quilt around her shoulders upon his return. The last he wanted was her thinking he didn’t want her here. It was… satisfying, in a completely heart-wrenching kind of way, to have both of them in his quarters, finally, able to talk to them. He hadn’t been able to with all the Severus-Watching and Sirius-Hunting.

Ariel gave a small nod, bringing her knees to her chin.

Remus sighed and took a seat in the chair beside her. He glanced at the doorway, almost expecting Snape to have returned, but the night was silent. Every time Remus had tried to speak with Ariel or Harry alone, he’d appear, like he had a Tracking Charm on the both of them.

Ariel was biting her lip so hard that it was a wonder it hadn’t split open. In the dark of the night, and Remus’ growing exhaustion, _(one more night one more night)_ it looked like her face was melting off. He realized that she was crying.

Taking advantage of the silence, Remus decided to collect himself. One child longing for a family— that was all Remus could make of Harry’s desperation, and who could blame him? Remus knew what it was to want to be _wanted—_ he’d feared, as a child, that no one would want him, want to be his friend, _anything_ associated with him. Remus was familiar with that hunger and _need._ The prospect of Sirius being able to offer the boy something was sure to be tempting… and for a boy so starved for affection, though he hid it well, who could blame Harry for not doing everything he could?

How could Remus not have turned him away liar liar _liar—_

And the other had her biological father flaunting Dark Marks and scaring the living daylights out of her. It was clear that Ariel hadn’t a clue that Snape was going to come out of that wardrobe… but she _had_ had an idea of what it would be. That day, their first Defense lesson, when Ariel had skittered to the back of the line and pleaded with Remus not to make her tell…

There wasn’t a word to describe the look on Snape’s face, when he’d looked back at him. Remus never thought he’d seen someone who looked like they might collapse in on themselves. It _was_ unsettling— the way Snape watched Ariel sometimes, and even Harry, though whenever Remus was watching, his eyes were usually glued to his daughter. He constantly looked like he was about to throw himself in front of them.

The Boggart hadn’t looked anything like that. Its lips had been carved into a cruel smile, if it could be even called that, Voldemort’s legacy painted on his skin…

Lily had told him she’d known Snape was a Death Eater. Remus had gone with her and James one day to visit Petunia— a horse-faced girl with a face that suggested she was constantly smelling something foul, or at least, she did when wizards were present.

_“If you see Snape around,”_ Lily had told her, _“stay away. He’s joined this group— they’re like Nazi’s, but for wizards—”_

Lily hadn’t _stayed away,_ the girl in the chair a living testament to that. And now Snape was protective and dedicated to the child and James’ son, or at least, that’s what it _seemed_ like to Remus. He hadn’t a bloody clue what went through Snape’s head. Dumbledore hadn’t even told him why he’d hired him, given him Ariel in the first place. Had he deflected? Could one _do that,_ when it came to Death Eaters?

No— of course not. Regulus had been an example of _that._

“My parents are dead,” Ariel muttered, causing Remus’ head to snap up in attention, “and apparently, I think my father is the thing that goes bump in the night.”

Remus tried to make himself look understanding as he possibly could, but stayed silent.

“I wouldn’t have faced it if I’d known…” She wiped at her face and sniffled loudly, “It doesn’t make any sense…”

It did, in a twisted kind of way— if Remus was right.

“I have to ask you,” He said slowly, earning himself a reproachful look, “Severus hasn’t… has he ever…?”

“He’s never laid a hand on me.” She said in a strong voice. It didn’t sound like her.

“Ariel,” Remus waited until she met his eyes, and tried to search for a flicker of fear in them, “you can tell me. If he’s done _anything…”_

“He hasn’t.” Ariel said flatly, black eyes flashing.

He recalled Sirius, the first time James had breached the subject. His eyes had gone wide panic, and he’d stuttered and slammed from the room before they could apologize for bringing it up at all, though they’d gotten their answer. Ariel wasn’t acting like that. She was acting like the idea of abuse was insulting to her.

“Are you… unhappy with him?” Remus tried.

“What?” She looked up, “No!”

“Forgive me,” Remus gave an understanding smile, “it’s just… you realize how he comes off to other people… how…”

“Terrible is he?” Ariel guessed.

“He’s not unkind to you?”

“He’s prickly,” She shrugged, “but I’ve learned that that’s just who he _is._ If Dad tried being… _nice…”_ She shuddered, “It wouldn’t be _him,_ you know? It’s just that… he’s different with just _me._ He doesn’t let anyone see it, ever, because he says we’ve got to keep our relationship a secret, but _I_ know what he’s like when he’s not trying to make everyone hate him so damn much.”

_He knelt down and took the girl’s face in his hands_

_Do you know what it’s like to hear your best friend say you’re worthless?_

_He HAS them, he’d said, and underneath the hatred there had been panic— so clear and palpable that Remus felt his own heartbeat accelerate_

“You weren’t expecting him to be your Boggart, then.” Remus said, his ribcage tightening. How awful must it be to fear your own parent— to fear something you couldn’t necessarily free yourself from?

“No.” Ariel said, grief tightening the muscles in her thin face, “I thought I knew who it _would_ be. That day in class… I… I wasn’t prepared. I thought tonight if I did it I could get past him, but…”

“Him?” The way she said the word was hushed, like how people still whispered _You-Know-Who_ made his stomach lurch.

“If I tell you something,” Ariel whispered, “would you promise to keep it between us?”

_There was a… situation last term,_ Snape had told him.

Remus leaned forward in his chair, both intrigued, and wretchedly guilt ridden at the small things James and Lily had left behind.

“I swear it.” He told her.

When she looked back up, there was so much sorrow in her eyes that it seemed to bleed into the air around her.

“Have you ever heard of the Chamber of Secrets?”

Remus blinked, “No— should I?”

Ariel shook her head, “No… most people thought it was some silly Pureblood legend. Slytherin built this giant Chamber and put a monster inside to kill Muggleborns students. He wanted to purify the school.”

His stomach rolled, “You say it like it’s a fact.”

Her head bowed, hiding her eyes, the most expressive part of her face.

“Last year,” Her voice was brittle, like glass, “Lucius Malfoy slipped me this Diary… and inside of it, Voldemort had put a piece of his soul. He started controlling me— he called himself Tom, and so I opened that stupid Chamber…”

She was holding back, Remus could tell, because each syllable sounded like it pained her. He wanted to ask more— no, _demand_ it— know why it had gone to such lengths and how _Voldemort_ had used _her_ and _Lucius was a free man—_

_I hurt people_ the unfinished story said, and Remus felt his heart wrestle with his mind. He couldn’t do that. The girl was already helpless.

Lily would have _slaughtered_ Lucius. James would have…

Snape would have obliterated him… _should_ have, knowing him…

“I thought the Boggart was going to be _Tom!”_ Ariel kneaded her hands against her forehead, “It was _supposed to be him!”_

Fearing yourself was a different kind of monster. Remus had known it for as far back as he could remember, because his parents had told him he would never be able to be around others without hurting them. They hadn’t meant to plant that seed— they’d been scared out of their minds that Remus would hurt someone, hurt himself…

He knew what it was to hurt someone and have no control. Granted, he hadn’t _hurt_ Snape back in fifth year, but if he _had…_ the pained thoughts of if he accidently hurt James or Sirius or Peter…

Ariel feared Tom, it seemed, because he had made her do terrible things. To Remus, the thought of anything being more terrifying was foreign and beyond his reach, but he could conceive it.

“Why was it Dad?” Ariel’s eyes were huge, noticeable, even though they were darker than the shadows flickering against the wall.

Remus swallowed, taking his hands in hers, “Ariel, do you know what that… _thing_ was on his arm?”

She shook her head, staring at his hands like she’d never seen a pair of them before, “I… I’ve… no. Never. What is it?”

“It’s called the Dark Mark.” He said quietly, “It’s… what Voldemort used to brand his followers.”

Ariel went very still. The color in her cheeks, even in the dark, drained from her face.

“I don’t think you’re afraid of Severus.” Remus added on quietly, “I think you’re afraid of him becoming something else.”

Ariel seemed to contemplate this. Her shoulders relaxed— her jaw set.

“I won’t let him.” She said.

* * *

 

The next morning, Harry awoke to find Ariel asleep on the sofa across from him.

He sat up immediately, wide-eyed and concerned, until another thought fell over him. Had she followed him here? That didn’t seem like a very Ariel-thing to do, but it sure did sound like something _Snape_ would try.

Harry threw his legs over the side of the couch and quietly began to put on his boots. When he looked back, Lupin was sitting at a small, rickety table that seriously looked like it would collapse the second something was placed atop it. He had a cup of tea in his hands, hunched over as the bright morning light hit the flecks of grey in his hair.

Lupin looked… really awful. He looked like he’d been run over by a herd of elephants. Harry could’ve sworn there was more amber in his eyes than grey.

He waved Harry over, motioning for him to keep silent and not wake Ariel. Harry crept to the table quietly, not bothering to sit. He didn’t have time to dally today— he had to find Ron and Hermione. And shower. That sounded a bit more pressing, actually.

“Is she okay?” Harry whispered, motioning to his sister.

“She stopped by late last night.” Lupin’s smirk was… oddly sad, “Great minds think alike, apparently.”

“I thought she was with Snape?” Harry asked, surprised, and a hint suspicious.

Lupin shifted in his chair, almost uncomfortably, “I believe that’s a matter between the two of them.”

Well, he’d been right about them rowing last night, when he’d seen them on the Map.

“Can we start the Patronus lessons today?” He asked, eager to change the subject.

“I’m feeling a bit under the weather.” Lupin gave an apologetic smile, “I’m afraid I’ll have to stay in today.”

“Oh,” Harry’s face fell. He’d always looked forward to Lupin’s class, “You won’t be in class, then? Who’s teaching?”

“Professor Snape.”

Harry groaned.

Lupin gave him a cross between a stern and amused look, “Behave. You’ll make it easier on yourself. And Harry,” Lupin put a strong, but gentle, hand on his shoulder, “remember what we discussed. No looking for Sirius.”

He gave a reluctant nod, his mood significantly dampened, and headed for the door. Harry gave a parting glance to his sister, if it could even be called that, and left.

He decided to skip breakfast, not hungry in the slightest. Instead, he decided to stop down at the dungeons to change and grab his satchel, since he hadn’t done so since yesterday morning. His clothes felt disgusting, and clung to his clammy skin.

When he arrived at Defense, Snape was already at the front of the room.

The entire class turned to stare as Harry slid into the seat beside Ron. Draco was smirking, looking up at Snape eagerly, like he couldn’t _wait_ to see him get docked points, or assigned a detention.

Snape didn’t even look at him. He just kept on talking, like Harry wasn’t even there.

“Professor Lupin has not left any record of what you have covered so far—” He was saying.

"Please, sir, we've done Boggarts, Red Caps, Kappas and Grindylows," said Hermione quickly, "and we're just about to start—"

"Be _quiet!"_ Snape snarled, his robes making him look like a giant bat about to take flight as he rounded on her, "I did not ask for information, I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organization."

"He's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had," said Dean Thomas boldly, and the rest of the class murmured agreement. Menace flashed in Snape's face. Harry tried to smother the smug smile slowly spreading across his face.

"You are easily satisfied. Lupin is _hardly_ over-taxing you. I would expect _first-years_ to be able to deal with Red Caps and Grindylows. Today we shall discuss—"

He grabbed the textbook Harry was silently reaching for from his rucksack, his cold eyes meeting Harry’s for just a fraction of a second. He could have sworn there was something flickering behind them, the way a light moved at the end of a dark tunnel.

He slammed the textbook onto the desk, and began to flip through it.

"Werewolves." He said, a cruel smile Harry didn’t understand twisting his thin lips.

"But, sir," Hermione said, like she couldn't restrain herself, Ron giving her a wild _Shut-The-Bloody-Hell-Up_ look with his eyes, "we're not supposed to do werewolves yet, we're due to start Hinkypunks—"

"Miss Granger," Snape drawled silkily, "I was under the impression that I was teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to page three hundred and ninety-four." His glare caused all of their heads to duck downwards, " _All_ of you! _Now!”_

Harry scowled as Snape stalked away, glancing down at the page he’d turned to. The thing on the page didn’t look at all what Harry imagined a werewolf to look like. It was truly something gruesome— saliva dripping from huge fangs, it’s beady eyes redder than Voldemort’s had been on the back of Quirrell’s head, bent low over a slain buck…

"Which of you can tell me how to distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?" Snape demanded. Normally he would have prowled through the rows of desks, unnerving everyone, but this time he stuck right by Harry’s, practically vibrating with tension. What, did Snape think Sirius was going to pop out from under one of the desks?

Harry glanced up at his face, which was deathly pale. His deep-set eyes were all shadow, and the lines on his face seemed harder. Everyone else sat in motionless silence, except for Hermione, whose hand was bravely raised into the air.

"Are you telling me," Snape was saying, looking out over the class and ignoring Hermione, "that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between—"

"We told you," Parvati said suddenly, "We haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on—"

_"Silence!"_ Snape snarled, so viciously that Harry felt his skin prickle, "I never thought I'd meet a third year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall have to make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are—”

Harry bristled, an odd feeling of anger falling over him. Lupin had been the best Defense professor they’d had, as Dean had pointed out. Werewolves weren’t set to be talked about for _months,_ and Snape was acting like Lupin was Lockhart-Part-Two.

“I think if we saw _that,”_ Harry said icily, pointing at the dramatic illustration, “we’d recognize a werewolf, don’t you?”

The class let out a collective gasp. Snape turned slowly, his robes scratching against the stone floor. Hermione looked mortified.

“Five points from Slytherin, Potter.” He said in a deadly voice.

At least he’d managed to save Hermione from—

"Please, sir," said Hermione, and Harry almost groaned, "The werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf—"

"That's the third time you've spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," Snape said in a voice that made Harry’s spine tingle, "Five points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."

"You asked a question and she knows the answer!” Ron burst out, “Why ask if you don't want to be told?"

Well, now they were all dead. Snape finally slid away from Harry’s desk, moving so quietly that if he wasn’t watching the inevitable attack unfold, he might not have known Snape had even moved.

"Detention, Weasley," Snape said in a very, _very_ dangerous voice. "And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed."

Nobody dared make a sound for the rest of the lesson. They all made notes on werewolves out of the textbook while Snape paced from the front of the room and back to Harry’s desk. When the bell rang for class, he held them back to snarl, "You will each write an essay, to be handed in to me, on the ways you recognize and _kill_ werewolves. I want two rolls of parchment on the subject, and I want them by Monday morning. Weasley, stay behind, we need to arrange your detention."

“That oily bag of tits!” Ron was fuming as he slammed the classroom door behind him, “He’s got me scrubbing pans in the infirmary this weekend! Maybe we _should_ have let Black have a go at Snape!”

_“Ron!”_ Hermione chastised, and then looked to Harry, “Where _were_ you yesterday? We couldn’t find you or Ariel anywhere!”

“Snape.” Harry muttered. It seemed to be the word of the day.

“What crawled up his arse?” Ron fumed as they began to walk away, “You don’t reckon he hates Lupin because of Neville’s Boggart still, do you?”

“I don't think Boggarts have anything to do with it.” Harry said, trying to glower, but found himself feeling like something was missing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m aware that in canon, Snape took over Lupin’s class after a full moon, but this isn’t canon, and for plot purposes, I decided to do the day of the full moon to allow for his involvement with certain goddaughters.
> 
> Also: Bad Parenting 101. Way to go, Snape.
> 
> Please review. I really do treasure every single one, and it’s incredibly encouraging to hear your thoughts/know people are there. I love you all, truly. Xx


	68. Facedown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you’re tuning in after waiting a month for us to get to brand new chapters, welcome back, friends.
> 
> Previously: Snape gave a stunning performance of Bad Parenting, Ariel’s Boggart was definitely not Tom, Remus did Godfather Things, and Harry had a painful Defense class.

They walked in synchronizing steps along the winding, twisting path that lay before them.

Damon had found Ariel that morning, bleary-eyed and sincerely wishing no one saw her trying to sneak up to Gryffindor Tower before classes to change and shower. He had practically mowed her down.

 _Then_ he’d shouted at her, demanding to know where the bloody hell she’d been for the past twenty-four hours. Ariel had responded by yelling right back at him, but by the time Damon had calmed, Professor McGonagall had come hurrying down the corridor and given the both of them detention for — she’d used to word _squawking,_ but Ariel had been mildly offended by that terminology.

He’d walked her up to Gryffindor Tower, going on about how Harry had told him about the Sirius Black situation. Ariel had nearly forgotten about it after last night, but returning back to a sense of normality _would_ include worrying about _that_ little problem. Ariel hadn’t been able to offer him much, since her mind was somewhere else entirely. Harry hadn’t wanted her help, anyway. If Damon had questions he could ask him.

“So, what did you want to talk to me about again?” Damon asked, his face clouding over with worry. Whenever the pair had a talk at the rock, it meant deep stuff. They had a bit of time before Potions, which Ariel was _not_ going to attend — she’d get a note from Madam Pomfrey if her father came looking, which he would.

“Let’s get on top of the rock first.” Ariel said with a sigh, stopping at the base. She honestly didn’t feel like talking about this with _anybody,_ really, but Damon had a… similar situation, and he’d probably understand. Besides, she could deal with Severus a lot better than she could deal with Sirius, at the moment.

“I’ll go first,” Damon offered, “then I can pull you up.”

Ariel opened her mouth to object, but she reluctantly closed it when Damon had already hoisted himself up, extending an arm. She rolled her eyes and placed her foot into a useful cranny on the rock, reaching out her arm and grasping her hand with Damon’s. As he pulled her up, she could see something flicker in those icy blue eyes for a quarter of a second, but as soon as it came, it was gone.

Once atop the boulder — and after admiring the view — Ariel turned, giving a quick flick of her wand, _“Silencio!”_

Damon quirked an eyebrow, “Afraid of eavesdroppers?”

She didn’t want to say the real reason — there was a good chance her father had followed them. With Black being in the Forest, and him paranoid and thinking she was some weak little girl _,_ Ariel did _not_ want to risk him overhearing anything she and Damon discussed. If anything, that would turn _Damon’s_ Boggart from Bellatrix into Severus. Her father would murder her, and then _annihilate_ Damon if he knew that he knew the secrets of her heart — and parts of his.

“You never know.” Ariel tried to shrug.

They settled themselves on the smoothest part of the boulder, and before Damon could ask again what was wrong, Ariel found herself blurting it out.

“I faced my Boggart yesterday.”

Damon’s eyes immediately widened. “That’s… a new one.”

Ariel swatted his arm. “It… It didn't go as expected.” She said, starting off easy.

“You expected the Dark Lord.” said Damon flatly. It wasn't even a question, everyone knew it, or at least, those who knew the truth about the Chamber did. “I had a feeling.”

“I did.” Ariel said slowly. “It… wasn’t him, though.”

“What could you possibly be more afraid of?” asked Damon, appearing surprised.

“I didn't think anything could’ve scared me more than him. He was… the _worst_ thing that's ever happened to me, by far. And considering my luck in life, that's saying a lot.” Ariel sighed. “But it wasn't him… it uh,” she paused, taking a breath, “it was my father.”

“What?” Damon turned, his icy blue eyes freezing over, like a winter storm was reigning down inside of them. “Snape? But… But you're not scared of him!” His face darkened. “He… he hasn't done anything to you, has he?”

“No!” Ariel said defiantly, finding herself answering the same question Remus had asked her. “Why would you even think that?”

Damon backtracked immediately. “No— it’s not that I think he ever would, it’s just, why else would you be scared of him?”

“I — I’m not scared of the real him. I'm scared of… what he was, I guess.” Ariel sighed again for what felt like the hundredth time that day. “When he was a Death Eater.”

“But you _saw him,_ didn’t you? I mean… it was still _Snape.”_

“It wasn't him.” said Ariel strongly, knowing that the—  _thing_ that menacingly walked out of the wardrobe with that evil grin was _not_ her father. “Well, it was, but he wasn't himself. He… he had this eerie glow to him, and he had this malicious smile on his face and…” Ariel nearly choked as she remembered, “he pulled up his sleeve and the Dark Mark was there. It _moved.”_

“So he looked the way my mum did.” He said quietly.

Ariel remembered that for Damon, this was his reality, and suddenly felt a pang of guilt. At least her father was actually sane. Or at least, he was when she and Harry weren’t in danger.

She felt herself putting a hand on his shoulder, and for a second, she could have sworn she saw him flinch. “You deserve a lot more than you get, Damon, you know that? I couldn’t imagine… if my dad was locked away… I don’t know how you do it.”

“My parents deserve to be right where they are,” He said through gritted teeth, “rotting away in Azkaban.”

“I know, but _you_ don’t deserve to have them there. Parents should _care_ about you. You haven’t done anything wrong. In fact, if this makes sense, considering who you were raised by, you’ve done everything right.”

He looked back to her, the blue in his eyes warmer than she’d ever seen them— the way the sky stretches out across the horizon after a storm.

“I couldn't have done _everything_ right.” Damon said quietly.

Ariel gave him a long look. “You’ve sure done things a whole lot better than me.”

Damon’s lips twitched, like he was trying to hold back a laugh. “Ariel, you literally went through hell and back last term with all that Tom Riddle shit, and you’re still sane. I know I wouldn’t be, so that must mean you’re doing something right too.”

She didn’t say anything, but turned to meet his gaze. His eyes had changed —  they were like sapphires, sparkling like the moon on a rainy night.

“God, your eyes are blue.” She heard herself say.

Damon laughed. “I’m pretty sure Draco spent most of his childhood believing I had my own sky inside of them.”

“That’s oddly poetic of him.” She felt her cheeks flame — why had she said that?

“Draco Malfoy; literary genius.”

“Sounds fitting.”

“Well, he _is_ rather well versed when it comes to insults. Just ask Harry. Speaking of which,” Damon frowned, “Are you going to tell him about this?”

Ariel sighed, bringing her hand to her temple. “I haven’t even thought about that yet. You’re the first person that came to mind, considering you’ve… gone through something similar, with what your Boggart is, and all.”

“Okay, but my mum actually _is_ evil. She’s actually the _epitome_ of evil, to tell you the truth.” Damon said, disgust coating his voice. “If you read half of what I have… well, I’m sure Snape’s told you some of it.”

Ariel remembered back to with what her father had told her, how Bellatrix Lestrange had tortured Alice and Frank Longbottom to insanity, to the point where they were incapable of speech, and shuddered. How could one of the people she cared about most be related to someone like that?

“Have you ever asked your aunt and uncle about them?” Ariel asked quietly. “If there’s… anything _good_ you share with them?”

“Maybe it’s just the looks.” Damon shrugged, but behind that, Ariel saw deep uneasiness in his eyes. “I guess I kind of look like my mother. Nothing like my father, though. From what I’ve seen of his trial photo, he’s blonde.” He gave her a sideways look, “And come to think of it, you're more like Snape than your mum.”

Ariel blinked, “Excuse me?”

“Well, you have his eyes… and his temper — fucking hell, that's the biggest one —”

“You’re such a prat.”

“I would say your eyes are gorgeous, which they are, but then I’d be saying Snape’s eyes are gorgeous, so I'm not going to do that.”

She laughed— she couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed, “I’ll pass it onto him, if you’d like.”

“And you're brilliant at Potions. You're not all squeamish like the other girls… and you _kind of_ have a thing for Defense…”

“I do _not!”_ Ariel bristled.

Damon shrugged again. “You kind of do. I mean, that’s not a bad thing.”

“I know it’s not. I just— I mean, considering of _‘how much like my father I am,’_ She mimicked. “don’t you think that would be kind of a bad thing?”

“Why?”

“My father had a thing for the Dark Arts and look where that got him.” Ariel grimaced.

“I thought he had a thing for your mum.” Damon said very smoothly.

 _Oh, you’re asking for it now._ Ariel leaned over to her right, her eyes landing on a very useful pine cone, picked it up, and chucked it at him.

“That didn't hurt.” Damon grumbled, ruffling his hands through his hair. Ariel caught herself staring.

“You never did explain that, you know.” He said. She almost didn't hear him at first, “They say Death Eaters aren't capable of love, or at least… that's what the Prophet said during the trials.”

“He's not a real Death Eater anymore.” said Ariel firmly. “He was a double agent.”

“Do you think he could ever go back to the way he was?” Damon asked cautiously.

She didn’t think he could. Her father loved her— that much she knew for certain. Ariel hadn’t doubted that since after she’d broken free of Tom. She hadn’t known what Severus was like before he’d joined Voldemort, really – he’d always been _dad._ The glimpses she’d got of him when he was her age had always been when he’d been with Lily— nothing Voldemort related. Ariel didn’t know if he’d Hexed or Cursed other students… if he’d hurt people. If he’d _liked_ it. Didn’t you _have_ to be a sadist to be a Death Eater? That’s what they _did—_ the war had brought out the worst in wizarding society. Was that why Dumbledore wouldn’t give him the Defense position, then? Because he was afraid it would be too tempting… that her father couldn’t be trusted with that branch of magic?

“I just hope…” Ariel’s voice drained away before she could say anything more. She was beginning to feel like she was on the edge of tears thinking about Severus having to become that person again.

“You just hope what?” Damon asked, concern etching over his manner.

“I just hope that he never…” Ariel felt the tears coming full force now, no matter how much she tried to fight it. Why were her emotions switching so rapidly these days? “I just hope he never goes back,” The tears were leaking out of her eyes onto her nose, “or even goes to spy, I just couldn't take it—”

“Ariel. Ariel. You're okay,” said Damon, noticing her distress, and gripping both of her shoulders firmly. “That's not going to happen. You-Know-Who’s not coming back.”

_Not yet._

“I know, but I can't help worrying about losing the only parent I have left…” Ariel half spoke, half wept. “I just—  I wouldn't be able to deal with that, and that's why it's my greatest fear, and I—”

Damon didn't say anything, but extended his arms forward, which Ariel immediately fell into. It felt like hours that she lay there, her head rested upon his chest, teardrops trickling onto his shirt, his hands stroking her hair. But in that moment, time didn't really seem to matter.

* * *

_“Silencio!”_

With a single word, Severus found himself wanting to impale himself with a tree branch. Or his own fucking wand.

Bellatrix’s brat sat down next to Ariel — he was going to break something. He couldn’t hear what they were saying, and if he canceled the Silencing Charm, Ariel would know he was there. A day ago Severus wouldn’t have given a shit — she was _sitting in the middle of the same Forest Black had dragged her brother into —_ but after last night…

Severus had sat with Dumbledore all morning. He’d barely been able to force out what had happened. When Severus had finished, the old man had watched him with a look of extreme sorrow, but something else as well.

 _“To know what people really think,”_ He’d finally said. _“observe what they do, not what they say. She’ll come to you, Severus.”_

_“She’ll never… she’s… after what I said to her –”_

_“You’re afraid after what’s happened.”_

_“Of Black harming them? No, no, that’s not it… right now. The boy mistrusts me again, after what Black said to him, but Ariel…”_

_“Open yourself to her, Severus. Clearly Ariel has seen something worthy of her affection amidst all else.”_

She hadn’t slept. The dark circles under her eyes mirrored his own. _He_ had done that — he, whose very existence felt like it was just cease to be if anything happened to her —

Severus felt his entire body thrum in pain. He wanted to reach out and touch her, wanted to beg her forgiveness. Ariel was _scared of him,_ and he adored that girl more than anything, was terrified of her in the same stride, but it wasn't the same _kind_ of fear…

Now Bellatrix’s brat was _hugging her —_

If Severus didn't do something, he was going to have a full blown crush on his hands. And the _last_ thing he fucking needed was Bellatrix’s idiot son in _love,_ or _thinking_ he was in love with Ariel. He could see the bloodlust already — oh good fucking _grief —_

Ariel was smart enough not to fall in love. None of the little pustules in the school deserved her anyway.

The girl wiped her eyes, a sheepish grin on her face. Severus would've given his wand arm to know what they were saying. Was Ariel telling Bellatrix’s brat about Black? Christ, this was nauseating. The boy was making eyes, and the girl looked like she’d just witnessed a horror. She was completely oblivious — though, Severus figured he should be grateful.

Her eyes swept over the Forest as they both rose, and for a split second, they landed where Severus was. He could see a flicker of determination there, and even though Ariel obviously could not see him, Severus wished, more than anything, that she could.

* * *

“Harry, you will _slow down?”_

He didn't do so, but instead, picked up the pace. Ron and Hermione puffed after him, though Harry did feel a pang of guilt for making Hermione run— she had a small library tucked away in her satchel.

Harry didn't let up until they’d hit the Great Hall, peeking inside to make sure his sister wasn't inside. He didn't think he’d be able to hold his own if Ariel came to him all apologetic and teary-eyed. Harry didn't want to speak to _anyone_ about _anything—_ even Ron and Hermione, who kept trying to get him to talk about Sirius and Snape and Remus and Ariel and it was all too much. His head felt like someone had filled it up with ice water. After seeing Snape acting so _weird –_ and it _was_ weird for Snape, because he’d acted so sodding bizarre that even the other students had picked up on it – Harry didn’t think he could handle much more of this.

“Harry…” Hermione touched his arm lightly, “What's _wrong?”_

“Nothing.” _His godfather was all alone in the Forest and his sister was a liar and Snape loved their mum but had been a Death Eater all along,_ “I just… want to put as much space between myself and Snape as possible.”

“I second that.” Ron said, glaring over his shoulder, like the hallway behind him was hiding Snape in it’s shadows, “The last thing we need is another reason for him to give _all_ us detention.”

“Professor Snape isn't hunting us.” Hermione said, looking annoyed, and flustered, “Harry, something's wrong, and you're not telling us what it is. Is it Black?”

It _was_ Sirius, and it wasn’t. What he’d said had made everything in his head going completely haywire. All his thoughts and memories and the memories attached to them were collapsing like a rockslide.

Snape had once worked for Voldemort, but every time Voldemort tried to kill Harry or his sister, Snape went completely out of his mind. Was it because of his _mum?_ Ariel had alluded to the fact that Snape had once loved her, but how could someone uproot everything… Lily had been dead for twelve years. Harry wondered if a person was capable of that kind of devotion. It made his head hurt, to think of Snape, who could be cruel and unfeeling when he wanted to be, serving Lord Voldemort, when he had stared down Tom Riddle in the Chamber like he wanted to rip his face off.

“It’s… Snape, I guess.” Harry muttered.

Ron’s eyebrows furrowed. “He was acting mental the other night…”

“I think he means the other thing, Ron.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Are you really that surprised?” Ron shrugged, “It’s not all _that_ startling, really. I heard Slytherin House was way worse back when You-Know-Who was still around. They used to say there's not a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin.”

Harry gave him a look. Hermione smacked him with her Defense textbook.

“Except you, of course.” He said quickly, cheeks reddening, “I didn't mean it like _that._ It’s just… not a whole lot come through… _good,_ y’know. Hell Harry, if it weren't for the robes, some days I wouldn't even know—”

“I think what Ron’s _trying_ to say,” Hermione interrupted, glaring at Ron, “is that Slytherin has a reputation… and Professor Snape’s demeanor kind of… fits that profile.”

“You don't know him like I do.” Harry muttered, “He’s a horrid git, but he’s… Dumbledore _trusts_ him.” _I trusted him._

“No,” Ron said, giving him a sympathetic look, “but the way mum and dad talk about him… we always sort of assumed… well, that he wasn't _always_ Dumbledore’s man.”

“What's _that_ supposed to mean?” Harry demanded.

“Well…” Ron shifted, clearly uncomfortable, “after the whole Riddle thing with Ginny… Fred and I overheard Mum and Dad in the kitchen one night. Mum said something about how when she heard Snape had your sister all this time, she knew something wouldn't have turned out right with her… and Dad seemed to agree kind of… he said something about Snape having a… I think he said he had a shrouded past. I asked the twins what he’d meant later on and they said it had to do with his loyalties during the war, probably.”

“Not _‘turn out right?’”_

“Mum thought Snape should have stopped what was happening before it begun. I told her Riddle was real smart… that he shut Ariel up before she could say anything, but I wouldn't take what she says seriously. She blames Snape for what happened to Ginny, I guess.”

Something dug into his heart at Ron’s words. Harry didn't know why — _he did he just didn't want to admit it —_ but something rubbed him the wrong way about someone, even if it was someone he loved, talking about his sister and Snape like that.

“Isn't the important part that Professor Snape isn't a Death Eater _anymore?”_ Hermione sighed, though she too looked mildly perturbed by what Ron had said “He's not _anymore.” She_ paused, and it was as if a lightbulb had appeared over Hermione’s head, although her tone was dark when she spoke again. “I just thought —  if You-Know-Who ever happens to return —”

“He’s _not!”_ Ron intervened.

Hermione ignored him, although Harry noticed she emphasized the _if_ more this time. “ _If You_ -Know-Who ever returns, and Professor Snape used to be a Death Eater —  wouldn’t he _have_ to go back to pretending again? You know, so that he wouldn’t be outed as a traitor?”

Harry blinked. “That might be a tad difficult, seeing as he raised my sister.”

“No one knows, Harry.” Hermione’s amber eyes searched his own, like she was confused, somehow. “Maybe you don’t see it because you’ve known Professor Snape since you were little, but to the rest of us… I know _I_ would have never guessed it if you hadn’t told me. Maybe _that’s_ why it’s such a big secret, yeah?”

“When you say it like that…” Ron trailed off, looking deep in thought. “Mum seemed kind of upset the day you came to live with us, Harry. Professor Dumbledore had come, and when she heard that Snape would be keeping Ariel, she didn’t seem too happy about it.”

“That still doesn’t make it _okay.”_ Harry shook his head. “He still _was_ one, at some point.”

“If he realized his mistakes…” Hermione inclined her head, as though she wanted him to finish the thought.

“Hermione, that doesn’t matter right now.”

“If Ariel knew and she’s… forgiven him, or accepted it or what not, and Professor Dumbledore trusts him, then I think it _does,_ Harry.”

“Then why didn’t Ariel _tell me?”_ Harry demanded angrily. “If it’s not important anymore –”

“Of course it’s important.” Hermione’s eyebrows furrowed. “It’s not just something you _bring up_.”

No, Harry tried to tell himself. If Snape loved his sister, and Voldemort was trying to kill his sister, he definitely wouldn't want to talk about once _working_ with him. How long had Ariel known, then? Had she _always_ known? Had she hidden it from Harry because she was ashamed, or because she didn't think Harry deserved to know.

He was just going to have to talk to Snape, then.

* * *

Ariel slowly made her way through the winding corridors of the dungeons, wondering what she’d find on the other side of the door to her father’s quarters.

She didn’t want to keep fighting with Severus. She _hated_ it — had hated it when she’d been younger, and hated it now more than she ever had. Growing up at Hogwarts, Ariel had always figured that she’d be happier when she finally got Sorted and was able to have a bit of freedom. Severus had told her he wouldn’t confine her to his quarters — and of course that rule had changed since things kept trying to kill her — but Ariel _liked_ having him nearby. When they had rows nowadays, it wasn’t like she didn’t have to see him. He’d be in the Great Hall, or in class, and Ariel would have to sit there like nothing was wrong while her father became a human drill because of the force of his glare.

Understanding where he was coming from came easier to her than understanding _her_ came to _him._ Then again, he didn’t have all the facts when it came to Black, and a two-decade long grudge to cloud his bias, but when it came to Ariel’s Boggart, she needed to make the first move. He’d never come to her, thinking that she was secretly terrified of him or something.

Was Severus mad? Upset? The latter seemed likely, though they’d never quite been in a situation as unique as this. Ariel had never been… _scared_ of him. Severus was her _dad._ He was the one that soothed and told her she was safe. _Other_ people could be afraid of him, because Severus _was_ scary when he wanted to be. He had a talent for pushing people away — one that had always upset Ariel as a child. The only person, besides herself, that had _some_ kind of relationship with Severus, was Dumbledore, and even then, that relationship wasn’t what it had seemed to Ariel when she’d been little. Growing up made the bright spots in her childhood black and meaningless sometimes.

Ariel put her hand on the doorknob, sucking in a deep breath before pushing the door open.

Her father was sitting in front of the fire, a glass in his hand. It was filled three-quarters of the way with dark liquid— firewhiskey, most likely. Gods, Ariel had driven him to drinking. She could tell, even in the dim lighting, that his hair was greasier than usual. Severus tended not to take care of himself when Ariel, or Harry, for that matter, were in some kind of distress — physical or emotional.

He didn't turn upon her entrance, but watching him carefully to gage his reaction, Ariel realized that his chest wasn't moving in sync to a steady pattern. He’d gone as still as a statue.

“Hello.” Ariel said, shutting the door as she leaned against it, palms pressed against the smooth wood.

Severus stayed silent, his eyes narrowing, though she could tell they weren’t in response to her entrance. His body language and the glass in his hand told her that he hadn’t been expecting her.

“Can I sit?” She asked, stifling the urge to wring her hands in her robes. She wished he’d say something instead of staring.

“Do you _want_ to?” Her father finally asked, his voice cracking through the tense atmosphere like a whip being brandished.

“Yes.” Ariel said quietly, “I want to talk about what happened.”

He turned, a look of — was it surprise? It was mingled with that strange hunger he sometimes wore, when he thought Ariel wasn’t looking.

She took that as inclination to move forward, and so she settled herself on the couch beside him — right next to him, so close that their knees were touching. Her father was staring at her the way… the way Tom had looked when Ariel had raised the sword high in the air and swung it over the Diary.

She cleared her throat awkwardly, but made herself look up at Severus.

“Are you okay?” Ariel asked him, knowing the answer, but eyeing the glass with critical eyes.

Severus snorted. He looked back to the fire like he wanted to throw himself into it.

“What's funny?” Ariel frowned. He wasn't acting the way Severus usually did. He wasn't making eye-contact, or trying to talk to her. Was he drunk?

Her father leaned forward, swishing the dark liquid around the glass. He still said nothing.

“Dad.” She grabbed his forearm, right above where she now knew the Dark Mark lay, “I’m sorry.”

When he turned to look at her, the intensity from his eyes burned. They scorched the skin around her eyes and the air between them.

 _“You’re_ sorry?” He growled.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted the other night,” Ariel bowed her head in shame, “I know you’re worried about Black, and I would be too, I guess, thinking I had someone I cared about with a madman after them. And I _also_ know that you want to find him because you think he got mum killed.”

It was like a lightning storm was unfolding behind his eyes. They kept flashing, the black tinting with a streak of gold — the light striking the iron hot. Ariel had been right — this was vengeance as much as it was protection. It was _personal._

“But I don’t want to talk about that yet.” Ariel bit her lip nervously, “I wanted to talk about what happened in Remus’ classroom, too.”

Her father looked back towards the fireplace, his face somehow becoming gaunter, like with every breath he took, he was wasting away.

“I’m not afraid of you.” Ariel tightened the grip on his arm. He lifted it as though he wanted to jerk away, but she held on, “I’m afraid of that _thing_ on your arm, okay?”

“You think I _covet_ it? That I _want_ it anymore?” He snarled, looking disgusted.

“No. I just don't want you to… to be what you _were_ again… before you knew Mum was in danger…”

“I spied for a _year_ before your mother was killed.” He sneered, but it wasn't really a sneer, because it looked like it pained him somehow, “And if I could do it under the knowledge that I could somehow create a world where she would live, then what do you think I could do when my own daughter is being hunted? How many times must I prove to you that I value nothing in this world, except for you and your brother’s lives?”

“I think you’d get yourself killed, that's what.” Ariel snapped, “So I don't want you to do it!”

“That's not what your Boggart told me.”

“Forget about the stupid Boggart, that's not my point —”

 _“Forget?”_ His nostrils flared, “Forget _that?_ Forget that _you —”_ He broke off, burying his face in one hand, the other wrapped tightly around the glass of firewhiskey.

“I’m not afraid of you.” Ariel repeated, “I’ll keep saying it until you believe me.”

Severus groaned, and Ariel let her hand fall from his arm.

“What I have done,” His voice was surprisingly clear, even though his demeanor suggested he had some kind of horrible migraine, “and what I _will_ do is none of your business. It doesn’t concern you, nor should you concern yourself with _it.”_

“You dying is something to be concerned about.” She said quietly.

“I am not _dying._ You’re being overdramatic. Stop projecting, you ridiculous child.”

“You _could.”_

“And so could you, frolicking around the Forest with the Lestrange boy.”

Ariel supposed she should have been more surprised that he’d been following her, but she wasn’t. This was becoming normal Severus behavior for when people were allegedly trying to murder her and her brother.

“I think Voldemort is a lot more dangerous.” Ariel shot back.

Severus gave the slightest of flinches possible at the name. It was hard to notice, but Ariel could always see him tense up whenever she mentioned him.

“And you think _I_ am more frightening than he.” He said flatly.

Ariel shifted her gaze to the floor. “How many times do I have to tell you? It’s not _you_ I’m frightened of. It’s what you were.” _Or what you could become if he came back._

“You think I’d hurt you.” Her father stared at her, his face like a flame inverted, “That I wouldn’t… be able to control… what is it that you think?”

“What Mum was afraid of.” Ariel told him truthfully, “She didn’t want you to join them… and you did anyway. When you told me you and Dumbledore had planned on you going back… that you’d spy again… I never talked about it because it scared me.”

A look of understanding washed over his face. It seemed to shake out any remaining hardness in his face, the lines softening. The light from the fire melted his eyes down to liquid nitrogen.

“I would never hurt you.” said her father. “I’d rather die. Even if… the Dark Lord was to ask it of me, I could never…”

“I know.” Ariel said to the floor. “You’ve never hurt me before… well, I mean, not _that_ kind of hurt. But what if you were asked and then you _didn’t._ Then You-Know-Who would hurt _you,_ right? I don't… want that…”

His black eyes glittered back at her, but some of the anger had left him. Ariel could tell because he was no longer holding the glass of firewhiskey like he wanted to punch it in the face.

“Your brother…” Severus cleared his throat, “He feels the same? I assume you and him spoke about this.”

_You need to give me some space_

“We haven’t.” Ariel said shortly, looking down at her hands.

The tips of his fingers lightly brushed over her face. Ariel stayed still, sighing in relief when he set down the glass and finally looked her fully in the eye. The light from the fire seemed to be absorbed into them — like they were feeding into him instead of trying to burn him alive.

“I frightened you the other night.” Her father’s face melded into the light, “I could see it when I brought you both back from the Forest… I assumed it was Black — that you were covering for him, for Harry, because the boy wants what isn’t there. You were… confused, and I attacked you for it.”

Ariel turned away and bit her lip. It was true that Severus tuning out when Black was afoot had unnerved her, but she knew that was just how her father operated. Years of Occlusion were how Severus got things done most of the time. It was how he got through teaching — how he’d been all throughout her childhood, really.

_He’s a dog he’s a dog he’s a dog he’s going to **hurt you**_

“He said a lot of things.” She said quietly, “But I think he’s… that he has good intentions.”

Severus gave her a guarded look, “Dumbledore testified… Black confessed upon his arrest —”

“He was guilt ridden and Pettigrew had just blown himself up, according to Black. I don’t think anyone would be thinking clearly — were _you_ after mum died?”

She saw him flinch — it was so brief, that anyone else might have brushed it off as him blinking, but she knew that he operated on a different frequency most times.

“I know you don’t believe us.” Ariel looked away. “I didn’t expect you to… I don’t know if _I_ trust Black. All I know is that he thinks you’re the bad guy, and I know you’re not. I never thought you were, ever. I just wish you would trust me the way I trust you.”

“I don't want to talk about Sirius bloody Black anymore.” Severus set down the glass and turned so that he was fully facing her. “You’re Boggart…”

Ariel swallowed. “I never would have if I… you know I never… what I mean is —”

He held up a hand. “That's not what I was going to ask.”

Severus folded his hands in his lap, his posture tense, like his body was glass and he was trying to hold himself together. Something lifted in his face, though, like a curtain being pulled.

“Do you resent me for being a Death Eater?” Her father asked plainly, his eyes searching her face with fierce intensity — and a hint of something else she couldn't identify.

Ariel hesitated, “I just… I know you said you were looking to be a part of something greater… but what if they had won, Dad? They would've killed Mum because she was a Muggleborn anyway, wouldn't they? Did you really want that kind of a world at some point? Do you _still_ want it?”

“I didn't know what I wanted.” Her father said in a gravelly voice, one Ariel felt deep inside her chest, “I had lost Lily… because of my own foolish mistakes and arrogance. The path I went down was one I had been assumed to follow, and who was I to doubt that? It wasn't until I met your mother again that night and you came into the world that I knew what I really wanted, but by then, I was too late.” Ariel felt her eyes prick as he gazed back at her evenly, sincerity so true it almost hurt to listen, “Lily was… gone, and you were suddenly here and in my care, and I had a Vow to fulfill — these two little beings to protect. I hated myself all the more because somehow, I had lost my world looking to build my own twisted one — one modeled after the Dark Lord’s. And for that, I’ll never forgive myself, and neither should you or your brother.”

“Don't you _get it,_ Dad?” Ariel stood, feeling the warmth of the fireplace on her back, “Harry is mad at you because he can't see you being one… one of _them!_ You being a Death Eater killed a piece of you to him! And for me… it's like… Voldemort is taking _all_ of you away from _me._ He'll make you do things or he could just kill you altogether, and what the hell are we supposed to do if you're not here?”

Her father stared up at her. His eyes weren't tunnels anymore— they were like great, black bodies of water with something unknown coming up from the deep.

“Sometimes,” Ariel whispered, “I think about how much it hurt with Tom— how he killed Mum and James and took them away, and then how he almost took Harry away too. But with you, it's different.”

He said nothing, but she heard him inhale raggedly.

“Because you're not dead…” She went on, not caring how her voice began to tremble, “but you're… _his,_ still, in a way, right? I never really thought about it — I hated thinking about you going back to You-Know-Who. I hated thinking of _my_ father being _his —”_

“I am _not_ his.” Her father interrupted, like lightning striking unexpectedly, “I am _yours._ I would have thought you _knew that—”_

“I did,” Ariel said miserably, curling into herself, “I _do.”_

“So am I to accept that your _doubt_ is any better?”

“I’m afraid if you go back…” She bit her lip, “That you’ll change. That _we’ll_ change, and I don't want that. I like us the way we are.”

Her father tilted her chin up with the tip of his finger. When Ariel finally mustered the courage to look him in the eye, they were full of starlight. His wand was raised beside them.

 _“Expecto Patronum.”_ He said — reverence in his voice Ariel had never known was even there — or capable of being there.

There was a burst of silver— so bright that it was almost blinding— from the end of his wand. Ariel stared at it, until she saw the shape, the outline of a hoofed animal standing before them.

It was a doe.

Ariel’s heart filled with something so bright, so wonderful that it felt like it would burst inside her chest. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. It was full of something she couldn't put a name to. It was grief so thick that somehow, it had transcended to joy. It struck that place of her heart that Lily took up.

When Ariel looked up to her father, he was watching her with a strangely guarded look.

She turned back to the doe, who seemed to be trying to get closer to her. Ariel reached out her hand cautiously, and the silver doe nuzzled it, almost reverently, the way her father had casted the spell. Ariel watched, enchanted. Its snout grazed her cheek and she smiled at it.

And then the doe faded into the air, her hand where it's head had been.

“That,” said Severus. “is the Patronus charm.”

Ariel stared and stared where the doe had stood, and it felt like her heart was breaking. The world suddenly felt colder as it had before, even though Ariel had not known that the doe and its love had existed before.

Her father’s fingers were touching her cheeks, wiping away something wet. When had she begun to cry?

Ariel sniffled loudly, and leaned against his side, hugging him with her might — willing him to feel nothing but happiness because he deserved to feel it.

She’d never be able to produce a Patronus that beautiful, even if she had the world and then some.

“She’s beautiful.” Ariel murmured. “A doe?”

“It was… your mother's.”

There was a pressure nestling under her heart, and while it hurt terribly, it made her smile through her tears. “Was hers that beautiful, too?”

“Even more so.” Her father said, like it was an automatic response.

She didn't believe that. If her mum’s had made her feel more than what she’d just experienced, her chest would have exploded.

“You must have loved her.” Ariel said. “To have the same one, I mean. You must have loved her more than anything.”

“How could I not,” Severus’ grip around her tightened, “when she gave me you?”

She blinked back the tears that stung at her eyes and looked up at him. He was gazing into the fire again, but now, his expression was thoughtful.

“Do you think about her?” Ariel asked. “You must have to think about her… I don't know how to charm works, but I bet it's something… really good.”

“I used to.” He settled his chin atop her head, tucking her underneath it, and tapped her lightly on the shoulder. “I might have found something… with a bit more of a punch to it.”

Ariel snorted. “You make me sound like a potion.”

And then she realized he’d said he’d thought of _her._

She untangled herself and sat back on her haunches and just stared up at him. Severus stared back evenly, with a look that was a mixture of smug and another emotion Ariel couldn't identify.

“I hope mine is a doe too.” She whispered.

“Let us pray it's not a lion.”

“That would be something with _punch.”_ Ariel said thoughtfully.

“Don't get any ideas.” Severus pulled her back to him. “Dumbledore will never let me hear the end of it if your Patronus could potentially _eat_ mine.”

“I would never.” She said. “It would make a damn good protector, though.”

“I suppose.” He conceded.

“It could rip off Lucius’ head.”

Severus smirked. “You give a convincing argument.”

Ariel leaned her head against his shoulder and laughed. It still hurt to do that, but it made her feel a tiny bit better. She wanted her father to make the doe appear again — she never wanted it to leave — but felt selfish for thinking it. Severus deserved that kind of happiness, even if he kept it hidden.

“I’m not scared of you.” Ariel said, noticing how he stiffened when she said it, “I love you, but I don't want you going back to him.”

She felt the demeanor shift immediately. It had gone from uncomfortable, to that wonderfully terrible ache, and now to something in between.

Her father cleared his throat, “That's not your decision to make.”

“Isn't it?” She shot back, cursing herself for her temper, “Sorry — I just meant… don't you care what I think when it comes to all of this?”

“I wasn't aware you had an opinion on the matter.”

Ariel felt like rolling her eyes. Why was it that he was allowed to give himself heart attacks over her, but she couldn't care about how _he_ was doing?

“I don't want you to spy again.” Ariel sat back up his haunches and looked him fully in the face. He was distant now, not the man who had made the silver doe appear.

“Ariel…” Severus looked… pained. She could tell that they’d entered unchartered territory when Severus didn't come back with something snippy and final.

She didn't say anything. She didn't know how to convince him— that could come later. For right now, all Ariel needed was for him to _know._ That was enough for tonight. Ariel leaned back against him and sighed in relief when his arm finally wormed around her middle.

“The Dark Lord is not yet a threat.” He told her.

Ariel glared at him, “Did you _miss_ the past two years?”

“He does not have a corporeal form.”

She blinked, “Like, a body?”

“Well, I don't expect him to return as a flesh eating slug.”

Ariel hadn't heard this point before. Her father had never discussed Voldemort with her, really. It was mostly because talking about Voldemort meant talking about Death Eaters, which meant talking about him _being_ a Death Eater. After the Chamber last term, Ariel had a pretty good idea of what Voldemort had _been_ like— but Ariel hadn't really thought of what him coming _back_ would mean.

Well, besides her father being a Death Eater. And her and Harry being in an awful lot of danger. Needless to say, it wasn't something she liked to dwell on.

Her head felt like it was spinning, connecting everything together. She had a brief mental image of a giant slug with red eyes hissing at her, and her father with a very large container of salt.

“What if he doesn't believe you?” Ariel asked quietly, “He could just kill you.”

“He could.” Severus agreed, to her horror. His hand stroked her hair soothingly. “The Headmaster and I have been planning this very carefully for some time, Ariel. The Dark Lord values my information, and I have thirteen years’ worth of it. He has no true reason to doubt me, save his paranoia.”

“What about Lucius? After what you did to him that day — after Harry killed the basilisk —”

“I told you that you needn't worry about that.” Severus’ hand grabbed her shoulder. Ariel was suddenly looking up at him, the look in his eyes both the kind of cold that burned. She could see the muscles clenching in his face. “I mean that.”

_Well, he tortured him for a minute— they went back and forth, and then Snape started saying this stuff in Latin— it was a spell I couldn’t recognize. Then he used the Imperius on him and told him to go home and forget that it happened._

“Is it because you don’t think I could handle it?” Ariel looked up at him, “Because you think I’m… weak, like you said? Stupid?”

His face spasmed, and then softened. The look on his face made her chest hurt. It felt like she was underwater and couldn’t find her way back up to the surface.

“I don’t think that.” Her father said quietly, “I shouldn’t have lost my temper with you. Everything I said was… I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you, child.”

“I don’t mean to be —”

“I know.”

“Because if you did mean it, you wouldn’t be wrong.” Ariel said, lowering her eyes to her lap, ashamed, “The Hat told me I’d do well in Slytherin… but I said Gryffindor because I didn’t think I’d fit in there, and now look at me. I don’t have friends… the girls talk about me… they say I’ve got something missing. My own brother is mad at me… I can't do anything right.”

“Something _missing?”_ He sounded like he had ash in his mouth.

Ariel shrugged, batting furiously at the tears threatening to spill over. She remembered that night during first year, when they girls in her year had been talking about her and Harry was a million miles away and her father kept his heart locked away on a shelf.

From the corner of her eye, Ariel saw Severus’ hand curled tightly around the glass. She didn’t dare look up at his face.

She had wondered if that was the reason things never went right for her. She fought everything and everyone most of the time — she’d fought that Hat. It hadn't put up much of a fight, but perhaps if Ariel had listened, she wouldn't feel so out of place… maybe Severus would be proud of her and not think her so helpless when her and Harry were in danger. It certainly would have stopped Tom… Quirrell had been bound to happen… but even for Sirius…

“Come here.” Her father’s voice commanded, steady and strong. Ariel peeked up at him. His eyes were shining, like light reflecting off of steel.

She edged closer to him, afraid of what he was going to say. Despite him clarifying the majority of himself to her over the past two years, Severus was still impossible to read in situations like these. Ariel was reassured, however, when he reached for her and pulled her close, her head coming to rest against his chest.

“I want you to know something,” He said, “and I want you to listen to me very carefully, because I shan't repeat myself.”

She almost snorted at the word _shan't —_ Ariel nodded instead.

“You are not weak. You are… selfless.” His hand idly petted her hair. “When it comes to others and their safety, I mean. I realize that I criticize your House for being a bunch of foolhardy morons who feed off of one another’s egos, but you… are at the heart of it, like your mother was. _That_ is why you feel like you don't fit it, the same way your brother doesn't. The other little cretins don't understand that because they are young and don't understand what true bravery is. You have known for as far back as you can remember, because your mother and Potter displayed the rawest form of it.”

He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “You are not stupid. You are _far_ from weak — I did not raise you to be either. Whenever you and your brother decide to go gallivanting off into danger, however, all I see is the small thing I was given twelve years ago, and I wonder how it ever could have grown into something that has managed to escape the Dark Lord three times.”

“So…” Ariel leaned her head against him, “I scare the crap out of you, and you get mad because of it?”

“Reading in between the lines.” She could hear the eye roll in his voice, “Very good, Miss Potter.”

“You could just _say that,_ you know. Yelling at me doesn't solve anything.”

“I’ve noticed.” Severus said dryly.

“Neither does acting like you're losing your mind.”

“Perhaps I wasn't acting. You and your brother are going to kill me before I hit forty.”

She snorted quietly, “Have a little faith, yeah?”

“Oh, what I’d do not to worry like you.”

“I worry.” Ariel shot back defensively, “About you, mostly, and Harry, but I can't yell at Harry when he acts weird. That's why I have Damon. We can scream at each other without permanently harming our friendship.”

“Is that so?”

“Lions roar, right?”

He chuckled — Ariel’s head nearly spun off her shoulders. She'd never heard him laugh before. It was deep, like dark chocolate. The corners of his lips were curved upwards.

She thought of the Patronus —

“Among other things.” Her father smirked.

She smiled up at him — really smiled, for the first time in several days and felt the weight on her chest lift. He kissed the top of her head, and the air cleared.

If living with Severus had taught her anything, it was that not everything had to be spoken out loud.

Sometimes, silence was the best response.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, it’s been real, daily upload followers. A HUGE thank you from the bottom of my heart to all of you who have shown interest by reading and reviewing and everything in-between. Until next Sunday!
> 
> Reviews inspire me beyond belief, so please, if you have a moment, I’d love to hear from you. Xx


	69. Wait For It

Everything hurt.

That was the first coherent thought Remus could recall as the moon faded into the sky, leaving behind nothing in its wake — nothing to prove it had been here, except for his pain. His ribcage felt like it had caved into his stomach. Remus never remembered anything about his transformations, but the Wolfsbane seemed to have made him… more lethargic than usual. He’d thought that a blessing — a welcome side effect, but right now it was just making him feel twice as helpless.

How very like Snape and his potion to have this effect — Remus made a mental note not to tell him that.

A hand was squeezing his shoulder. Remus looked up blearily, something soft draping itself around him — his cloak.

“How are you feeling, my boy?” a kind voice was asking.

Remus rubbed at his eyes, wincing as something went _crack,_ “I’ve been better, Albus, but I must say, Severus must be mixing some type of sedative in with the Wolfsbane.”

Albus chuckled as his face came into focus — ice blue eyes and a beard of silver, “He disclosed the temptation, but if anything were to happen, I believe he feared retaliation from Ariel or Harry.”

He snorted, struggling to lean against the wall — or whatever was left of it, “I doubt that would stop him, but remind me to thank him. It’s quite a relief to awake to… any discomfort instead of reliving every moment of it.”

His eyes went to the ground behind Albus — paw prints imprinted into the dust.

Dog tracks.

“I trust that it worked in its entirety then?” Albus was asking, tearing Remus’ eyes away from the burden of proof.

“It did.” Remus said in a shaky voice — _dog prints Padfoot Sirius Black Animagus._ He was suddenly grateful for the transformation — a cover for his demeanor.

“I’ll let Severus know as soon as I return.”

 _I’m sure he’ll be overjoyed,_ Remus thought with another sardonic snort.

“Better you than me.” He tried to joke, but winced at the increasing ache in his side. It seemed to be travelling up his spine and straight to his head.

“I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear his efforts were not wasted.” Albus said kindly, “It is not an easy potion to brew — he’s been doing research since the summer holiday.”

Remus made a sound of appreciation – his eyes flickered to the prints again. They looked fresh, like they’d been made minutes ago…

Albus cleared his throat. “Shall we make our way back to Hogwarts, then? Or do you need a moment?”

He looked back to Albus, patience shining from every inch of his face. It was incredible that a person could possess so much – Remus supposed it was how he dealt with Snape most of the time. He’d worn the same expression back when Remus was a boy… it seemed impossible that he could still be this way now, when Remus was a man, and accountable for the Thing he was.

“I think I’ll stay here awhile longer, if that’s alright.” Remus said quietly.

Albus appeared mildly surprised. “Are you feeling alright? If you’d like, I could ask Poppy –”

“No, no, I’m fine.” Remus assured him with a forced smile. “I just… I thought I’d…”

“Nostalgia?” Albus asked quietly, understanding in his voice so thick that if Remus inhaled, he was quite sure he’d choke on it.

He noted mutely, guilt churning his stomach.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Albus said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “If you need anything, send your Patronus.”

Remus had not been able to make a Patronus since the night James and Lily had died. The most he got out of the Charm now was two legs – maybe three, if he was lucky.

He wasn’t going to tell Albus that, though. He nodded instead, watching as the splash of color in the room – Albus’ purple robes – left, leaving behind nothing but grey shadows, and Remus, who wanted nothing more than to disappear into them.

He knew he would come — a thought that had both excited and terrified him, in the dark part of his mind where flowers had once grown. He would come because he knew, and because Remus had made himself accessible. How easy it would have been to have taken Albus’ arm and gone back up to the school, to be able to look Snape in the face and know he hadn’t endangered two children he wanted to protect… could, couldn’t, would, _wasn’t…_

“You look like shit.” said a hoarse voice, the years between when they’d last seen each other cracking each syllable.

Remus looked up.

He was standing in front of one of the many shadowed windows, rags for robes and face every inch of the ghost he had become. Sirius shook his head at Remus as he tried to stand, rolling his eyes when the gesture was ignored. Innocent or not, he wasn’t about to just lie about — the Wolfsbane wasn’t _that_ potent. It hadn’t scrambled his mind, only his body.

“Look who’s talking.” Remus croaked back, his wand held so tightly in his hand that he could feel his tendons screaming out in protest.

Sirius eyes fell to his hand, wide and hollowed out, like burning pits. He was unarmed — which both surprised and confused Remus all the more. He couldn’t harm anyone without one, and physical brutality had really never been Sirius’ thing. If he _was_ at Hogwarts to harm Harry or Ariel — _if if if —_ how did he expect to get anything done without magic?

He was asking the wrong questions, again.

“Back away.” Remus said slowly, leaning heavily against the boarded-up wall.

Sirius blinked, holding up his hands, “I’m not armed, Moony. Don’t you dare fucking Hex me.”

“You’re not really in a position to be making demands, Sirius.”

“And neither are you.” He was frowning, “Like I said, you look like a herd of elephants ran you over.”

 _Kill him,_ that self-incriminating voice inside his head hissed, _every minute you stand still and let him speak, you’re putting them in danger._ Seconds trickling by, seconds that James and Lily and Peter weren’t a part of, seconds that _counted_ to Harry and Ariel — innocent children. A traitor to him, to all of them and beyond, making Remus invert on _himself…_

_Sirius Black wanted to talk to us_

_That Peter Pettigrew was our parent’s Secret Keeper_

_He came to warn us_

_Harry, wrapped in moonlight, his face when he’d looked backed down at Prongs etched into the pages_

_The girl’s glassy eyes, “I won’t let him.”_

“Did they tell you what I said?” Sirius demanded, stepping closer to him.

Remus’ grip tightened, his other hand cradling his ribs, “You kidnap a thirteen-year-old boy and his friend, and you think I’m going to even _try_ and entertain your theory? I’m here to… to…”

“To _what,_ Moony?” Sirius asked in a quiet voice, the sky before a rumble of thunder. He bowed his head. The circles under his eyes seemed endless.

_Kill him, take him to the Dementors to be Kissed, prove Snape wrong you are putting them in DANGER_

Remus felt his breathing quicken, the space between his heart and ribs rapidly filling up with something painful, more than the effects of his transformation, because if Sirius was telling the truth, then the world would crumble a second time, and if he _wasn’t…_ well, it’d simply go darker, but for Harry… that poor, confused, sweet boy…

“I didn’t kidnap him.” Sirius went on when Remus didn’t answer, because he couldn’t _(wouldn’t),_ “I wanted to… should have gotten him far away after what I’ve seen…”

Remus stopped breathing.

“What you’ve _seen?”_ He asked sharply, his ribs showing their support by jabbing into his side.

“I follow Harry around,” Sirius said, a light flickering on in his sunken eyes, “as Padfoot.”

Remus was stunned — bewildered, even, for one heart-stopping moment. And then he remembered the way Harry had looked away when Snape had demanded to know where he’d gone… how he’d squirmed, his eyes asking a question Remus hadn’t known he had the answer to. Ariel’s face in the infirmary… watching her brother with caution in her dark eyes and a kind of raw fear Remus had once known, when four boys had run through the Forest, bathed in moonlight…

 _“They’re not telling us something!”_ Snape had shouted, the Silencing Charm shuddering. 

 _“And why, Severus, would they willingly aid a man attempting to kill them?”_ Albus had asked. The shadows behind the curtain moved, Ariel rushing over to Harry — the way Harry had stormed out…

Why was he telling him this?

Sirius flinched, presumably at the expression on Remus’ face.

“Remus…” He backed away as Remus stormed forward, wand out, “Remus, don’t you fucking dare — I haven’t _touched_ him… and the full moon — you’ve… you’ve got to rest —”

“Shut – _up.”_ Remus snapped, pointing his wand at his throat. Something sharp pierced his own as Sirius gulped, holding up his hands in surrender.

“I’m not going to do anything.” He said quietly, “I just wanted to talk… prove to you that…”

“That Peter was their Secret Keeper?” Remus raised an unbelieving eyebrow at him.

Sirius’ expression changed — went from open and vulnerable into something darker. The space between them filled with something bitter and cold — so cold that Remus shivered. He felt like he was unarmed, suddenly, instead of Sirius.

“He was.” Sirius said flatly. “I don’t know why he did what he did, Moony, but he fucking framed me. I went after him when I saw what he’d done to James… he offed himself –”

There it was — not the tremor in the name, but the reverence it held that Remus had nearly forgotten about. It spoke innocence to Remus’ ears, and his heart, but inside of his mind, it was still not enough.

“Prove it.” Remus said.

Sirius blinked, his eyes so dark they could’ve passed for bruises, “I haven’t _touched_ Harry or Ariel — shouldn’t that be enough proof? Jesus fucking Christ, Remus, if you seriously think I’d touch either of those babies —”

“And _you_ seriously expect me to believe you broke out of Azkaban _just_ because Snape has one of them?” Remus asked back, forcing his voice to remain steady and calm. His wand was beginning to tremble — he needed to lie back down but he couldn’t —

“Is it true?” Sirius was breathing heavily, “What I told Harry?”

“About Snape?”

“I saw him with Ariel during Harry’s game, the night I snuck into the castle —”

Remus almost interrupted to ask him what the hell he’d been thinking, but stopped himself.

“I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it myself. I thought Lucius might’ve been fucking with me…”

He nearly rolled his eyes, “Yes — Lucius baited you with tales of your schoolyard rival having our godchildren.”

“He was more than a schoolyard rival and damn well know it.” Sirius growled.

“Fine,” Remus sighed. “I’ll allow you that much.”

“I broke in to get them away from him. He’s _teaching_ here? What the sodding fuck is that about?”

“It’s not relevant.”

“Not _relevant?”_ Sirius shouted. “Why haven’t _you_ done anything? I _saw_ the way he was _looking_ at Ariel, Remus!

“Are you accusing him of pedophilia now?” Remus quirked an eyebrow. “Severus hates children, Sirius, trust me. He’s not preying on her.”

“He’s a fucking Death Eater. I wouldn’t put anything past him.”

 _“No,”_ Remus said in a cold voice, “that would be _you,_ or so the Ministry says.”

Sirius tensed, like the bones in his arms and legs were being ground to dust. He stumbled back as if Remus’ words were a wind that pushed him, a physical blow.

“Did you bring it?” He asked in a very, very quiet voice, one that reminded Remus of a small child. “It’s the only way…”

Remus hesitated, and then, nodded. “I did. Harry… asked me to. It’s the only reason I’m not dragging you up to Hogwarts in chains right now.”

Sirius smiled, and to Remus, it looked like it hurt. The skin stretching across his face, the fragility of his features, looked like it would rip him in half. The smile, however, lit up his eyes like fairy lights. Sirius reached into his robes – or rags, rather – and then grimaced.

“I keep forgetting…” Sirius muttered, motioning to Remus’ wand. “Do you mind…?”

Remus gave him A Look. “I’m not giving you my wand.”

“Good Godric Remus, I wasn’t expecting that.” Sirius rolled his eyes. “I only meant that you’ll have to extract the memories yourself.”

Remus studied him – and then nodded. “If you try anything…”

He sighed. “I’m not, alright? Here – you can tie my hands if you’d like.” He held them out in front of him, wrists together. “This is benefiting _me,_ remember?”

Sirius’ face was sincere, but his eyes told a completely different story. It was like looking into a mirror, all of sudden, remembering how when James and Sirius and Peter had found out he was a werewolf, his face smooth and calm, but his eyes pleading with them – don’t leave me _don’t abandon me please…_

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Remus muttered. “I _will_ Hex your bollocks off, though.”

“Noted.” Sirius lowered his hands.

Remus slowly approached him, trying to ignore the way his hands trembled. The sun was beginning to break through the clouds outside, and as the Shrieking Shack moaned and creaked, Remus made himself look Sirius in the eye. They were bright, like they were glowing, somehow – as if there was a source of heat churning behind them. As he got closer, raising his wand to Sirius’ temple, Remus’ hand brushed past his matted hair, as where it touched, his skin felt scorched.

Sirius closed his eyes and exhaled as Remus extracted the memories, silvery wisps of life and death hanging from the tip of his wand.

 _“Accio_ satchel.” Remus murmured, holding the wand very still – he could feel Sirius’ ragged breathing on his neck. The bag slid towards him, hidden behind a pile of boards, where Remus had stuffed it last night before his transformation had begun.

He carefully bent down and removed the Pensive from the bag – his own, a gift from James and Lily on his nineteenth birthday. Remus let the memories fall into it, slowly backing away from Sirius, he breathing labored, the room feeling colder. The Pensive swirled – flashes of reds and greens and oranges lit up the surface, like lightning.

“My previous statement stands.” Remus warned as he knelt down, eyeing Sirius.

He snorted, but his face looked gutted, like when Remus had taken the memories, he’d taken all of him out and poured him into the bowl. It was like looking at a dream carved in stone.

As Remus leaned forward, he felt his heart fall in first, and then, the rest of him followed

Everything rushed at him at once – there were flashes, and murmurs, and whispers before Remus’ feet gave way, and he was landing in the middle of a one-familiar setting.

It was James’ old house – his parent’s, though years after they’d died. Harry was in James’ lap, only a few months old, gnawing away on one of those teething rings – Lily had kept a Cooling Charm on them. He, Lily, Sirius, and Peter were seated around the kitchen table.

“Before we say what it is…” James looked guilt-ridden – he was doing that thing with his glasses when he was nervous. He kept fidgeting with the frames. “It’s to protect the kids… to give us our best chance at making sure nothing happens to _any_ of us.”

Sirius tensed, his eyes flashing. Peter was hiding behind his teacup.

James took a deep breath. “We… that is, Lily and I, decided that it would be in Harry and Ariel’s best interest if, at least for now, we make Peter our Secret Keeper. You-Know-Who is still looking for them… he already must know that we’ve gone into hiding. Dumbledore says he’s been quiet lately, which most likely means he’s putting all his resources into finding us. Padfoot, it’s…”

“No… no, you’re right.” Sirius agreed, to James’ apparent, and Remus’, surprise. “Peter would… it would be too obvious to keep me.”

“Lily wanted to ask Remus,” James said quietly. “but after what you’ve… told me…”

Lily made an annoyed noise. James’ eyes flitted to her, and there was a silent exchange with their eyes.

“Peter is our best shot.” She said after a long pause. “We trust _all of you,_ but… we’ve got to be more careful than this. _All_ of our lives depend on it.”

“It’s… smart.” Sirius said heavily, his gaze landing on Peter. “Are you alright with this, mate?”

Peter swallowed. “Yes – I’ve never been so sure of anything.”

As the scene faded, the memory rushed forward very quickly, and all Remus could catch was Sirius climbing the stairs – the safe house in Godric’s Hollow, appearing as it did now, a hole imprinted in time – it was there now as it was in this memory, the roof caved in, an eerie silence making Remus’ ears ring.

Sirius was jumping off of his motorbike, parked crookedly in the middle of the street, racing towards the door just as a large figure emerged from it.

“Hagrid… Hagrid, give them to me! I’ve got to find Remus…”

“I can’t do that, Sirius. Professor Dumbledore says I’m ter bring them ter Lily’s sister’s…”

It sped forward – Remus was confused. Why wasn’t he… he was expecting more. Why was everything so quickly, giving Remus the bare minimum? The conversation… it had proven Sirius’ point, but…

It had proven his point.

The past, beating inside of Remus like a second heart, stopped.

He was trying to spare him the pain of watching everything in real time. Sirius… would’ve seen James and Lily sprawled across the floor like dolls… would’ve seen the babies in the nursery… seen the scars freshly marked upon them…

Just as Memory-Sirius hurtled through the door, the scene surged, like the darkness was being sucked into a vacuum of light.

Sirius was running –

after _Someone._

 _“PETER!”_ Sirius roared.

He was tearing through a crowd, all dressed in Muggle clothing. Up ahead, Remus could make out the ends of Peter’s robes as they threw aside people, eliciting angry shouts and cries of surprise.

Sirius caught him to him in an alleyway, a small crowd surrounding them, as he raised his wand. _“Stupefy!”_

Peter went flying back forward, landing on his hands as Sirius flew forward, just as Peter turned – 

 _“REDUCTO!”_ Peter shrieked, aiming his wand behind him, at what Remus realized, horrified, was a gas line.

It was all he needed to see.

Remus jerked himself out of the Pensive, nearly colliding with the wall. His breathing was labored, his heart racing, like he’d just outrun someone chasing him, though Remus still had the distinct feeling _that_ wouldn’t go away anytime soon.

Sirius was saying his name, but he didn’t hear him. He felt like his entire head had been shoved under a frozen lake. When his ears stopped ringing, he glanced up to find Sirius watching him, concern and a newfound hunger in his thin face.

“Well,” Remus leaned against the wall, sinking to the floor as he shook his head. “that settles that, I suppose.”

He heard Sirius swallow. “Are you… alright?”

“No.”

“Remus…”

“You’re an idiot.”

“What else was I going to do, Remus? _Wait for it?”_

“You could have _told us you were innocent!”_ Remus yelled. It was insulting – it was a slap in the _face,_ that Sirius had spent all these years like he was sleeping, like he’d been stifled and shut away, finding that only now he had been awake all this time.

“That wouldn’t have done a thing.” Sirius said tonelessly. “Dumbledore… we hadn’t told him we’d switched Secret Keepers. He’d insisted himself, originally, but James and I had decided that I would be the best bet… and then… after a month or two, it was… becoming too real. James was worried… thought it would be even safer it Peter… no one would’ve suspected him… it was supposed to have been the perfect plan…”

“Veritaserum!” Remus snapped. “A _trial,_ Sirius! How could you have just – the Sirius _I_ knew would’ve taken Harry and Ariel and found me! You _confessed_ to a crime you didn’t commit! What the _hell_ is _wrong_ with you?”

“So you believe me, then?” asked Sirius quietly.

“Peter is still dead.” said Remus – the words scraped against his throat. _“_ It doesn't matter what _I_ think! _They’ll_ never believe you… not if we don’t approach this the right way. You need to stay away from Harry and Ariel before Snape catches you – then you’re in _real_ trouble.”

“Are you kidding me?” Sirius looked disgusted. “That’s insulting, quite honestly. I’d never let the shitstain take me alive.”

“You do realize Ariel cares about him, right? Think about this, Padfoot. You can’t just –”

“She doesn’t _care about him –_ the fuck are you going on about?” He looked bewildered, his voice raw around the edges, like this was his limit.

“He _raised her –_ Jesus, Sirius, do you really think if I’d seen anything I would have stood for it? Albus would have never let Snape take her if he suspected even _slightly_ that his loyalties weren’t to those kids.”

“She’s got that thing – what’s it called? Stockholm syndrome? Lucius told me, I overhead –”

 _“That’s_ why you’ve escaped? Don’t you think that I suspected just as much when I saw them? I was…”

“He works for fucking _Voldemort!”_ Sirius roared.

“No, he doesn’t.” Remus said sharply. “Albus wouldn’t have let him take Ariel if that was the case. Surely you must realize that?”

“Right,” Sirius snorted. “Snivellus deflected from the Death Eaters – and my true Animagus form is a bunny.”

“If Peter could betray James and Lily for Voldemort,” Remus said quietly. “don’t you think it’s just as possible?”

He flinched. “It’s not the same thing.”

 _“How?_ You can only _become_ a Death Eater, not _stop_ being one?”

“For fuck’s sake, are we talking about the same person here?” Sirius yelled, his chest heaving up and down frantically. “It’s _Snape!”_

“And what about Reg, Sirius?” Remus asked softly. “He deflected.”

“Reg was a fucking twat,” He snapped. “and look where that landed him. Regulus is _dead._ _Peter_ is dead too, because he knew what they’d do to him in Azkaban as a traitor – and I let it happen because I thought it would be best... I thought I was protecting James…”

“That has nothing to do with why you tried to take Harry the other day. He is _safe_ here.”

“With _Snape_ here? The fuck he is! You can’t just tell me some bullshit about him changing his ways and being anything more than a _creep_ to your goddaughter and expect me to swallow that _bullshit!”_

“You’ve had twelve years to bullshit about _Peter!”_ Remus yelled, so much force behind it that his throat burned. “I’ve had twelve _hours,_ and yet here I am!”

He felt sick to his stomach as he buried his face in his hands, though there was no mistaking the unabashed _joy_ welling up in his chest. Harry had been _right –_ Sirius was telling the truth. Peter was still dead, but Peter was dead because Peter _deserved_ to be dead.

Remus didn’t know how to deal with that idea, so he tucked it away somewhere, for another time.

 _Coward,_ Conscience said very softly, but Remus couldn’t tell if it was aimed towards Peter, or himself.

“I… I’m sorry.” Sirius whispered. “Please, Remus… I’m…”

“I’m not talking about Snape anymore.” Remus forced out. “Or so help me, I will Hex your mouth off. We’ve… we’ve got to figure out how to clear your name before we go anywhere _near_ that.”

“Alright.” Sirius said quietly. “Alright, Moony.”

It was silent for a long moment, then. Sirius sat down on the ground near Remus, right next to the Pensive. He knelt over it, lifting his fingers, as if he were brushing the surface. Remus couldn't even begin to imagine what he was looking at in those memories. He rolled his wand over to him, and Sirius watched it, making no move to take it until it hit his legs. When he finally did pick it up, he looked at Remus, and there was something in his eyes that made Remus feel like he was suffocating. Sirius then lifted the memories out of the Pensive, wincing as he held Remus’ wand against his temple.

“They’re… like them.” said Sirius finally, his voice thoughtful. “But not. Harry the most, I think.”

Remus didn’t know if he meant that Harry looked like James the most, or if he was the better combination of the two of them. He was right either way, he supposed. Or maybe he meant that Harry was the most unlike them. Remus didn’t know, and he didn’t want to ask.

“He’s got friends in Gryffindor, though?” Sirius looked up hopefully. “There’s got to be some kind of mistake with him in —”

“There isn’t.” Remus interrupted, glaring. “Harry is exactly where he needs to be.”

Sirius made a disagreeing noise, but didn’t argue further. “He can fucking _fly,_ Remus. Jesus Christ, the kid’s a prodigy on a broom.”

“He wants to help.” Remus said flatly. “With… whatever _this_ is – aiding a felon.”

“What’d you tell him?”

“Not much – I don’t want him involved in case this goes… badly. The last thing I want is for Harry or Ariel to get in trouble trying to help you. Harry’s a bright kid, though… I’ll have to talk to him again soon.” Remus looked up. “He’s got the Map _and_ the Cloak, so he’s got the advantage, right now, but if Snape was to follow him…”

Sirius made a sound – Remus didn’t know how to categorize it, so he didn’t. When he didn’t reply, Sirius crouched low to the ground, and with a loud _POP,_ turned into Padfoot. Remus glowered at him, and he gave a doggy-grin before settling his head in Remus’ lap. 

They stayed there and bathed in the sunlight until the sun began to cast a shadow.

* * *

Harry started down the corridor to Snape’s office, and stopped. He turned around on his heel, only to pivot back, forcing his feet to move in the direction he did not want to venture off to. It would be so much easier if Harry just let himself go back to his dormitory — maybe use the Cloak and look around for Lupin — see if he was wandering the halls at night again so that they could talk again, but since when had _anything_ having to do with Snape been easy, ever? The questions Harry had were going to be answered either way — he was sure if he asked Dumbledore instead, he’d have given him _something._ Even Ariel was a better option than Snape himself, but Harry was fine with letting her squirm a bit more — he’d thought she’d been _above lying_ to _him —_ that _that_ was a rule not to be broken between them.

When Harry saw the door within his sights, he stopped a few paces away and stared at it. He’d heard whispers that Snape could read minds — could he see through doors too? Sometimes when he looked at Harry, he felt like he was being X-rayed. Or was that just the Occlumency?

Nevertheless, he took a deep breath, tried to muster together some of that Gryffindor-courage Snape hated, and raised his hand to the door.

Harry knocked.

A familiar voice echoed off the walls, reaching Harry from behind the door. _“Enter.”_

He twisted the doorknob, released his hand, and gave a slight push on the door. He took a brief moment to remain on the border of his quarters and the hall, allowing Snape to take the time to recognize his visitor.

Snape didn’t even take his eyes off the Daily Prophet that was propped open in front of him. “Come in, Mr Potter.”

Harry still eyed the paper, which Snape had thrown into the fireplace on more than one occasion in his presence, “Since when do you read the paper?”

“Since when do you waltz into a professor’s office and critique their habits?” Snape glared up at him, though it was not with the usual air of annoyance and cruelty he’d once held with Harry. It was diluted, and tinged with caution.

He shrugged, “I just thought you said it was rubbish.”

“It is,” Snape said flatly, “but I find that keeping tabs on whatever… _excrement,”_ He’d almost said _shit —_ his lips had formed the consonants for it, “is printed is better than ignoring it altogether, as I would like to.”

“The Weasleys always said that — well, they never let me read it much.”

“That would be because you and your sister tend to have an article or two written about you from time to time.” Snape said, his lips pursed together like he’d bitten into a lemon.

Harry blinked, “Really? What about us? It’s not like we’ve done anything… well, okay, the Chamber and the Stone were something, but they’ve _written_ about that stuff?”

“No,” Snape shook his head, dropping the Prophet on his desk with a loud _smack, “that_ information has not been released to the public. The majority of it is speculation… people know you two were separated, and if there is anything wizarding society enjoys, it’s gossip and rumors.”

“About _us?”_

“Do you know any _other_ children that have survived the Killing Curse?” Snape asked dryly.

 _Oh._ It was easy to forget he and Ariel were famous sometimes — spending the past summer holed up in Snape’s house had kept him away from the wizarding world and its preconceived notions about them.

Harry shoved his hands into his robe pockets, “I finally talked to Ariel the other day.”

Snape’s eyes glittered dangerously, “I wasn’t aware you _weren’t_ speaking.”

“Well, considering that fact that you both _lied_ to me,” Harry shot back icily, feeling his chest tighten, “I think I needed a day or so to sort it all out, don’t you?”

“No one _lied_ to you, Potter.” Snape sneered, has fists crushing the front page of the Prophet. The smiling face on the cover morphed into one of offense, “You never asked, and it was never discussed. Your sister stumbled upon it… accidentally. She was…” His face hardened, “deeply affected by it. Keeping it from you was her way of trying to spare you.”

“Trying to spare me or not, she can’t lie to me.” Harry grumbled.

Snape brought his hands to his temple, bearing a very tired expression. “Ariel didn’t _lie._ How many times do I have to tell you, boy? It never came up.”

“And it should’ve, is what I’m saying.” Harry’s tone was colder than he expected it to be, his eyes matching up with the obsidian pair in front of him. “That’s almost as bad as lying.”

Snape exhaled and lowered his gaze to the crackling fire flickering before them. “You can’t blame her for not wanting to talk about it, Potter.”

“Can you?”

“Excuse me?”

Harry shifted his feet as his gaze turned away, but his voice was still strong. “If Ariel can’t tell me, can’t you?”

Snape’s dark eyebrows knitted themselves together in a frown, and his voice had a silky tone to it. “You already know, Potter. There’s nothing more to say.”

He ignored the third usage of his last name. “I don’t know _anything!_ That’s the _problem!_ You were a Death Eater… but… but…”

His face went blank, like the undisturbed surface of a pond.

“Things were different back then.” He said, his voice careful, and it seemed as if he were scanning Harry’s face. His eyes reflected the shimmering flames, creating a contrast between his dark pupils.

“How different?”

Judging by his expression, Harry could tell that Snape fought the urge to snort. “Well, only slightly. There was just a small diversion considering there was a war.” His tone, as usual, was filled with derision. Harry ignored it.

“I know there was a war,” Harry said, not being able to help the annoyance held in his tone. “But what happened? What… what caused you to join Voldemort?”

“Slytherin house was held to higher standards than the others.” Snape said blankly, no emotion visible in him, “You could say it was peer pressure.”

Snape giving into peer pressure seemed about as possible as Dumbledore growing an extra head. “But you were friends with my mum, weren’t you? I certainly know _she_ didn’t join the Death Eaters.”

Snape’s eyes flickered back up to meet his, and he didn’t say anything for a moment. Before Harry could retract his question and rephrase it in a way Snape would respond to, he stood up suddenly, and stalked out of the room and into his quarters.

The door slammed shut behind him.

Harry stared, mouth agog. Should he go after him? No — that was something only Ariel could do without being murdered. Snape would probably Hex him into a wall and shove him under a sofa at this point.

Before Harry could make his escape, the door opened, and Snape stepped back inside. He was holding something — it looked like… a bowl?

Oh Merlin — was he going to ground him into potion’s ingredients? _Shit shit shit —_ oh _shit —_

Snape placed the bowl-death-trap on the desk and looked at Harry expectantly.

“Um,” Harry blinked several times before swallowing, “what… what is that for?”

“The answer to your question.” Snape said flatly, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. He raised an eyebrow as if to say, _“where’s your curiosity now?”_

What was that Muggle phrase — with the cat? Didn’t it die or —

Harry shook his head, trying to rid his mind of his possible demise and focus on Snape and the Not-Death-Bowl. It was only then he saw something shimmering at the base of the contraption. At first Harry thought it was water —  until he noticed the silvery tint, swirling around as if they were rain sprites.

 _More like rain sprite genocide,_ his mind supplied, very unhelpfully.

“You look _into_ it, Harry.” Snape supplied when all Harry did was stare in confusion, looking exasperated.

Harry held back his sigh of frustration. Hadn’t he just been doing that the whole time?

Snape seemed to read Harry’s unsureness as if it were a book. “You put your head in.” He said with an exhale, as if wondering why he was so uneducated in this particular subject.

The last time Harry had done that, it had been Dudley’s work, shoving his head into the school toilet bowls. He tried to block out that part of his mind —  it wasn’t something he wanted to remember, and certainly not something he wanted to participate in again. Especially when Snape could possibly be trying to make him _willingly_ dunk his head into acid.

Harry was tentative with his answer. “Wouldn’t you… um, drown?” He asked, although he felt himself leaning over the edge of the basin.

He glanced up when Snape didn’t answer, and the last thing he could make out before he was given a slight nudge to the head, sending his head down into the depths of the seemingly small bowl, was a small roll of the professor’s eyes.

_What on earth was —_

It felt like he was being sucked into the dish. It was almost leisurely at first, like his body was bending and compacting to fit inside the small bowl, but for only a short amount of time, and then the falling sensation hit him like a train. Whether Harry was actually falling he didn’t know. However, he _did_ know that Snape was definitely trying to murder him.

The drop ended —  he suddenly then landed on his feet, as if he were a mannequin being held up by strings, forcing him upright, blocking his fall.

It took him a moment to register _where_ he was —  was the bowl a teleporter?  It was unclear at first, different colors and silvery mists blurring his sight. As it cleared, beams of sunlight hit his face, making him squint as he pictured the scene in front of him.

 A cool breeze nipped at his shoulders, he definitely wasn’t inside. He slowly turned around, catching sight of the familiar beech tree where he and Ariel had once spent a Sunday finishing their homework. Harry wasn’t alone —  it seemed like a normal weekend at Hogwarts, students frolicking by the lake and studying under the tree. He couldn’t recognize any of them, their hair in different styles and their clothing worn differently than normal. It was almost as if it were a different era.

Harry frowned. Something was just _off_. The scene seemed to be lacking color, it had a bit of a dull edge to it, as if he wasn’t actually there —

Then it clicked.

Harry wasn’t _actually_ there. Snape had said that this was the answer to his question, and he finally understood. This… this was a memory. _Snape’s_ memory.

He inched closer to the beech tree, his eyes scanning the area, looking for the man whom only a minute ago, had convinced Harry that he was trying to turn him into potion ingredients. _Any_ information Snape was _willingly_ giving him about himself was rare — he never told _Harry_ about himself, or his mum… his or dad, although Harry didn’t think he wanted to know about _him_ coming from _Snape._

Snape had to be here somewhere —  this was his memory, after all.

And there he was, crouched under the tree, books sprawled across the green surface. Harry stared. Snape-the-teenager had a stringy, pallid look about him, like a plant kept in the dark. He was almost the same —  yet so different —  from the man he was today.

Snape had to be around fifteen, only a few years older than Harry — only a year older than his sister. Harry blinked, trying to take the sight in. It was strange to see Snape as anything other than an adult — he’d been the tall figure in black for as far back as he could remember. _This_ Snape had on Slytherin robes — stared at the book the way he did when he was brewing. He was… just another student. He wasn’t sneering or billowing down a hallway or shut away in a study or yelling — he was simply _existing._

Harry felt like he’d stepped into a parallel universe — the one where Snape and his mum had been friends.

“Where’d you get that?”

A loud voice, not far away from Harry and Teenage-Snape, was coming from the other side of the tree. The voice sounded so familiar —  Harry could have sworn he’d heard it before. He scanned the students, looking for a face to match it to.

His eyes landed upon a teenage boy with dark, messy hair and a rather bored look held in his extremely handsome features. Harry squinted —  the boy looked _so familiar —_ although he found himself struggling to put a name to the face.

“Nicked it.”

 _This_ voice, however, came from the boy beside him, with untidy black hair… very untidy black hair…

Harry moved so quickly over to the boys that, had he been solid, would’ve knocked at least two students into the air.

He stopped in front of a group of four boys and gazed up at his fifteen-year-old father.

Excitement exploded in the pit of his stomach; it was as though he was looking at a slightly older version of himself, with deliberate mistakes. James Potter’s eyes were a deep hazel, his nose was slightly longer and there was no scar on his forehead, but they had almost the same thin face, same mouth; James’ hair stuck up at the back exactly as Harry’s did. Since Harry was only thirteen, James obviously looked older, but it was almost like looking in a mirror.

Maybe this was why Snape used to resent him so much. Though, Ariel had said Snape didn’t hold much worth in looks —

So if _that_ was his father…  then the boy beside him _had_ to be Sirius. Harry recognized him now, the same dark, unruly hair, the same mischievous grin held in his good-looking features. He definitely looked younger; more energetic, and there was a certain twinkle held in Sirius’ eye that Azkaban had now swept away.

Sitting beside him —  Harry’s stomach gave a pleasurable squirm —  was Lupin. He looked oddly pale and peaky, light chestnut hair falling on his forehead rather elegantly, his face buried in a book. Beside him was a boy Harry couldn’t name; he had mousy-brown hair and a pointed nose, strongly reminding Harry of a rodent.

Harry glanced back at his father, who had started to play with a golden Snitch, allowing it to fly as much as a foot away before seizing it again —  his reflexes were excellent. The boy whose name Harry didn’t know watched him in awe.

He looked over his shoulder yet again and saw that Snape had stayed put, settled against the tree near to where the four boys were sitting, immersed in whatever he was reading, which left Harry free to sit between the tree and where the four boys were. The sunlight was dazzling on the smooth surface of the lake, on the bank of which a group of laughing girls were sitting with their socks and shoes off.

Lupin’s nose was still submerged in the book he was reading, much like Snape’s. Sirius stared around at the students milling over the grass. James was still playing with the Snitch, letting it zoom further and further away, almost escaping but always grabbing it at the last second, No-Name watching him with his mouth open. Every time James made a particularly difficult catch, No-Name gasped and applauded. After five minutes of this, Harry wondered why _this_ memory was Snape’s answer to his question, and why James didn’t tell No-Name to get a grip on himself, but James seemed to be enjoying the attention. His father seemed to have a habit of rumpling up his hair as though to keep it from getting too tidy, and he also kept looking over at the girls by the water’s edge.

“Put that away, will you,” said Sirius finally as James made a fine catch and No-Name let out a cheer, “before Wormtail wets himself with excitement.”

Wormtail… that was one of the names on the Map, wasn’t it?

“If it bothers you.” He said, stuffing the Snitch back in his pocket. Harry had the distinct impression that Sirius was the only one for whom James would’ve stopped showing off for.

“I’m bored.” Sirius huffed.

“We’ve still got Transfiguration,” Lupin said from behind his book. “If you’re bored you could test me. Here…” He held out his book to Sirius, who snorted.

“I don’t need to look at that rubbish, I know it all.”

“This’ll liven you up, Sirius,” said James quietly, hazel eyes glittering. “Look who it is…”

Sirius’ head turned. He became very still, like a dog that had caught a rabbit’s scent.

“Excellent,” he said softly. “ _Snivellus.”_

Harry turned to see what Sirius was looking at, and his heart dropped to his feet.

Snape was on his feet again, and was stowing the paper in his bag. As he left the shadow of the tree and set off across the grass, James and Sirius stood up.

“Oi, _Snivellus!”_ called James loudly.

Snape reacted so fast it was as though he had been expecting an attack: dropping his bag, he plunged his hands inside his robes and his wand was halfway into the air when Sirius shouted “ _Impendimenta!”_

Snape was knocked off his feet halfway through a dive towards his own fallen wand. Students all around had gathered to watch now, some looking apprehensive, others entertained. Harry was beginning to feel sick.

“How’d the exam go, Snivelly?” taunted James, advancing on Snape, who was now laying on the ground, panting. Harry watched helplessly. Was his father really so… Snape hadn’t _done_ anything —

“I was watching him, his nose was touching the parchment,” Sirius said with a vicious smile. “There’ll be grease marks all over it, they won’t be able to read a word.”

A boiling sensation was brewing in the pit of Harry’s stomach as he tried not to glare at the duo. What had Snape _done_ to them?

“You _fucking..._ ” Snape panted, staring up at James with an expression of purest loathing, “ _wait_...”

“No can do, Snivelly,” James sneered. “I’d rather not wait around and wait for you to attack us with that great greasy nose of yours. And I’d wash my mouth out if I were you. _Scourgify!”_

Pink soap bubbles streamed from Snape’s mouth at once; the froth was covering his lips, making him gag, choking him —

“Leave him _alone!”_

Harry whirled around, feeling his sister’s name on the edge of his lips, until he realized that it wasn’t Ariel —

It was one of the girls from the lake edge. She had thick, dark red hair that fell past her shoulders, and startlingly green almond shaped eyes, identical to Harry’s own.

Harry’s mother. His heartbeat tripled — his _mum —_

“Feeling alright, Evans?” James said, the tone of his voice now deeper and mature. Was this some way of him trying to impress her?

“Leave him alone.” Lily repeated, her voice cold, looking at James distastefully. She sounded just like Ariel when she was talking about Draco and Pansy. “What’s he done to you?”

“Well,” James said with a smirk, “it’s more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean.”

Harry’s heart kept sinking lower and lower as he watched his father torture and humiliate someone just because he _wanted_ to. From everything he’d heard about him, James would never…

Snape hadn’t.

His stomach plummeted further down.

“You think you’re funny.” Lily said coldly. “But you’re just an arrogant, bullying, toerag, Potter. _Leave him alone.”_

“I will if you go out with me, Evans,” James said quickly. “Go out with me, and I’ll never lay a wand on old Snivelly again.”

“I wouldn’t go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid.” She snarled.

None of them had been paying attention to Snape anymore, even Harry, for there was a flash of red light and Sirius shouting at James to watch out, and then James was sending another streak of light back Snape’s way. He was now hanging upside down, skinny, pale legs and grey underwear showing.

“Let him down!” Lily shouted furiously.

“Alright, Evans.” James sighed, and with a jerk of his wand, Snape fell into a crumpled heap on the ground. Untangling himself from his robes, he quickly got to his feet, but Sirius said, “ _Petrificus Totalus!”_ and Snape keeled over, rigid as a board.

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!” Lily yelled. She had her own wand out now, James and Sirius eyeing it warily.

“Ah, Evans, don’t make me hex you.” James sighed.

“Take the curse off him, then!”

James sighed deeply, but he turned to Snape and muttered the counter-curse.

“There you go,” James said, as Snape struggled to his feet, “You’re lucky Evans was here, Snivellus.”

“I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!”

Harry blinked, his breath catching in his throat.

Lily’s eyes washed over with hurt and disbelief as she comprehended the words that had just been said about her. But as soon as it came, it was gone, and her hurt was replaced with a cold stare.

“Fine,” Lily said coolly. “I won’t bother in the future. And I’d wash my pants if I were you, _Snivellus.”_

Harry had only just been realizing he’d been slowly shaking his head. Weren’t Snape and his mother supposed to be friends?

He glanced at Snape again, whose anger was finally wearing off his face and was soon being replaced with regret. It was only there for a moment, but it was there — so deep that Harry felt his throat tighten and eyes sting. Snape opened his mouth ever so slightly that Harry could’ve easily missed it, but his words were cut off as another flash of red light filled the scene and he was hanging upside down in the air again.

Dark clouds began to spill over the scene in front of him, blurring his vision as he felt almost dragged upwards from the memory. Harry closed his eyes, and the next thing he knew, he was standing Snape’s quarters again.

He glanced over his shoulder, confused for a moment, and saw the fully-grown, adult Snape sitting on the couch, his face unreadable, as usual.

A million questions filled Harry’s mind, all streaming in at once. He could feel his eyes pricking with tears, a burn in his throat that felt like it was going to tear him in two. His mother… his _father…_ if Snape hadn’t told Harry himself that he and his mum had been friends, he’d never have guessed by that memory. They’d looked and acted like strangers… she’d talked to Snape the way his dad had…

Harry swallowed and mustered all his strength into glaring up at him, “I don’t believe you.”

Snape, who had his arms crossed tightly across his chest, blinked. Then his face hardened, the early evening shadows making the lines in his face harsher. “I beg your pardon?”

“I don’t believe you.” Harry made an effort to make his voice stronger, although it didn’t quite get the effect he wanted due to the slight trembling. “My parents… she _hated_ him… and then they got _married_ —  it doesn’t add up!”

Snape stiffened — the muscles in his hand flexed.

“She did hate him.” He said flatly, “And then she didn’t.”

Harry gripped the sides of his chair, his mind whirling a million miles a minute. How could someone go from not being able to stand the sight of them to being in love with them? How could someone who had loved her have called her a Mudblood—

Had Ariel been lying?

He looked back to Snape, who looked like he was about to break his hand with the pressure he was exerting with it. No — that part was true. It explained why he loved Ariel and not him — why he’d hated him — why he wasn’t a Death Eater —

“You acted like you hated them both.” Harry shot him an accusatory glare, gauging his reaction carefully. It was clear that the James-Snape feud had been _very_ real, but Snape had screamed _Mudblood_ while his mum had only been trying to help. Friends didn’t do that… he could never say something like that to Hermione or Ron… _especially_ someone he loved…

Something rippled in the depths of the blank face before him, going as soon as it came. Snape still said nothing.

“Friends don’t say that to each other.” Harry half-spat. “Especially…  she was just trying to protect you —”

His face hardened. “And do you really think I don’t regret it?”

“You did.” He said, “I saw your face.” The lines in Real-Snape’s face faded at this, like they were melting away – Harry had caught him by surprise. “She didn’t forgive you, did she?” Harry asked quietly, “After that? That’s what you meant… you said Ariel was your redemption.”

Snape’s head bowed. Harry got the impression he was trying hard not to say something.

“All of this for…” He swallowed, _“that?”_

A single black eye glared up at him, “It was the _least_ I could do, seeing that I joined the madman that murdered her.”

“Because you loved her.” Harry finished, not realizing what he’d said at first. And then the moment moved on from the last syllable, and his words fizzled the air between them, and Snape was looking at him, his features piercing once more and eyes wild —

Ariel had told him that — Snape wasn’t supposed to know _Harry_ knew —

_Shit shit SHIT_

Snape had gone rigid, like how the spell Sirius had cast made him in the memory. Harry gritted his teeth and waited for the moment of impact, because once again, he’d let Snape know that _he_ knew more than he should have.

But nothing happened. The world didn't implode. Snape certainly didn't — Harry would know if he had. He just wasn't _moving._

If there was ever a time for Ariel to interrupt, now was the moment. Harry’s eyes twitched for the door, praying she would come in, that Lupin would need to talk to Snape, that Dumbledore had a question about something…

Snape had gone white now; like he’d turned to marble.

None of them came. Harry was still sitting in the chair with the Pensieve the only thing standing between him and a possibly murderous Snape. He almost wished he could blame Ariel for telling him this, so that he wouldn’t have just _blurted it out._

 _Finally,_ Snape seemed to let out a breath, some of the color returning to him, but he still looked sickly. His eyes were sharper than blades. He picked up a quill and began tapping the desk in an irritated manner – he probably could’ve cut Harry’s throat with it, if he wanted to.

“Had a talk with your sister then, did you?” Snape asked in a dangerous voice. Harry cringed, eyeing the Pensieve warily once more in case Snape decided to throw it at him.

“She might've mentioned it,” Harry winced. “in passing. I didn't mean to blurt it out like that.”

“No,” Snape said in a voice so hard it could have cut glass, “I suppose you didn't.”

Harry stared at his boots. It was strange, to have something that had made no sense in his head make sense out loud. He wouldn't have noticed it — the crushing look on Snape’s face if Ariel hadn't told him and their mum being his friend. And Snape almost looked that way when Harry had said it out loud.

He wished, almost, in that moment, to be loved that much. Harry tried to wrap his mind around it, to understand loving someone so much that you'd change your beliefs, that you'd risk your life, and a part of him was almost scared.

Harry blinked up at Snape, and there were tears in his eyes. He didn't feel them, but he saw them fall.

Snape looked like a person again instead of a slab of angry stone. Now, he looked bewildered. And a bit frightened.

“Ariel knows all of this, doesn't she?” Harry rasped. “More than this, right? That's why… back with Quirrell… when I thought it was you trying to steal the Stone… she defended you. I didn't understand it, but she knew…”

Snape’s eyes fell to the Pensive, and then back to Harry before he fell into the chair behind the desk. He covered his mouth with his hand, looking perplexed, and deeply troubled.

“This isn't… something to admire.” Snape said finally.

Harry blinked, assuming he hadn't heard him correctly. “What?”

“I wasn’t looking for pity.” Snape said coldly.

“You just said admiration.” Harry pointed out. “Pity is something different.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of that!” He snapped – so did the quill. “My mistakes, however, don’t require either. What do you think this is? That I risked my life on a schoolyard squabble with a woman who has been dead for twelve years? You can form your own judgements based on my past, Harry, but this was not meant to… _pardon_ it. I showed you this memory to tell you why I did what I did, and why I will continue to do so. Your sister can’t wrap her head around it, but you… are different.”

Was he asking him to deliberately hate him? That seemed like… an odd request to Harry.

“I don’t hate you for what you did.” Harry said quietly. “I _am_ mad at you for it.”

“You would be foolish not to.” said Snape, his voice outlining something soft and deceitful around a hard surface.

“With all due respect, sir,” said Harry. “I think that’s something I can decide for myself.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: *Gasp!* A chapter without Ariel?! Whaaat?
> 
> I realized when I finished that there was so much Pensive stuff this chapter – why don’t wizards use these more??? Eh, anyway…
> 
> Please review, because I crave contact after spending so much time writing this particular chapter. If you want me to write like a madman reviews are the way to go. Until next week! Xx


	70. Come As You Are

Ariel made her way down the meandering and twisting corridors and stairs to the Gryffindor common room. The day had absolutely exhausted her, although it was unusually normal — all her ordinary classes were just the same, and there was no word from Sirius Black this week —  yet.

She hadn’t heard from her father or her brother much, either. She’d seen Severus today, teaching Potions, but that was it, and he hadn't looked at her once. Her brother, however, she’d _tried_ to avoid. With everything that was going on between them, how Harry had thought that Ariel had lied to him about her father’s loyalties, did _not_ sound like something she wanted to discuss, even though she knew she had to eventually. Hell, that was just the tip of the iceberg – she had absolutely no idea how she would get her true parentage out to him. All Ariel knew was that that it wouldn’t be anytime soon.

Too enthralled in her thoughts to be aware of her surroundings, she found herself head-butting into a boy with very untidy black hair, his Slytherin tie hung lazily around his neck.

“Oh, Merlin, I’m sorry…”

“Are you now?” asked Harry, his glinting emerald eyes meeting her gaze as he looked down at her. Had he purposefully bumped into her?

“Oh, hi Harry.” Ariel muttered, straightening out her robes as she picked herself up off of the floor. “I’m sorry, I thought you were some random student…” She paused when she saw his unsatisfied expression, “You’re still mad at me, aren’t you?”  Deep down, it didn’t even feel like a question.

“Well, the fact that I had to talk to Snape about it rather than _you_ is unusual. He’s not exactly the type you’d want to rant to.” Harry said, crossing his arms. His eyes were dark, like moss on the north side of a tree.

Ariel brought her hand to her temple, a habit that had been brought on by her father, and sighed. “You went to talk to _him_ about it? He’s _also_ not the type to open up to people.” She leaned her back against the wall and dropped down to the floor. She wondered what Severus had and hadn't told him.

“And apparently, neither are you.” said Harry icily, but his voice was very quiet, like he hadn’t meant to speak his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Ariel exhaled, apologizing for what felt like the millionth time that day. “I just —  I didn’t think it mattered until recently, and I _was_ going to tell you… I just couldn’t find the right way to say it.”

A look of concern furrowed Harry’s eyebrows at her words as he lowered himself down, finding a seat against the wall beside her. “What do you mean, _‘until recently?’”_

“I mean if Voldemort… well, you can probably guess what’s got to happen.” Ariel looked away, her eyes shifting to a spider crawling its way along the arch of the ceiling.

“You mean that Snape will have to go back with him?” Harry said, locking his gaze with hers, the green boring into the black. “You mean —”

“It means that he’ll have to fake being a Death Eater again.” Ariel heard her voice falter. “and if he fails, he’ll be outed and killed.”

 _“If_ Voldemort returns. Why are you acting like it’s bound to happen? It’s not.” Harry protested with a flick of his hand, but behind his dismissal, Ariel was sure she saw something flicker in his eyes. Dumbledore had always said it was going to come to pass — no one had ever denied it. He knew that as well as she did.

Ariel ran a hand through her scarlet hair. “I’d say the past few terms have begged to differ. With what happened, and all. I mean, he’s obviously not dead, and it’s clear he’s doing everything he can to return.”

“I’d say he’s run out of options. But then again, we’re only in late October.” Harry cracked a half smile, the first time showing any light- hearted emotion since they first ran into each other.

She stifled the urge to giggle, even though it wasn’t really a laughing matter. “Who knows what he’ll come up with this year?”

“Well, maybe the whole Sirius Black drama has something to do with it.” He paused. “Not that I’m saying Sirius Black is trying to bring back Voldemort, because I’ve heard his side of the story. I’m just taking observations.”

“It seems like everyone and everything is linked to Voldemort. Like the Stone, the Chamber —  when they originally weren’t. You know what I mean?”

“What can I say? The guy gets around.”

“Funny.” said Ariel, lightly elbowing him in the stomach, Harry giving out a feigned groan as she did so.

Once they'd quieted, an odd silence hung in the air, neither of them sure where to go next. Ariel cleared her throat awkwardly and looked away.

“Look, I’m… this whole Sirius thing is just a huge mess… and what he said about my father…”

“I know why you didn't.” Harry said quietly, his voice toneless, “It's just… we don't lie to each other… and I wish you'd told me, but I get why. It… it must have been awful when he told you.”

 _We don’t lie to each other._ Ariel wished that was a true statement. But then again, Harry thought it was. Was that another lie? Ariel knew she couldn’t get the big one off her chest today, so she started out small. An uneasy feeling started to crawl its way around her stomach, like she’d eaten something rotten.

“Right. Which is why… I need to tell you something. About my Boggart.”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Wait, you… saw it? Was it Tom?”

Ariel didn’t feel the need to hesitate as she let her answer slip through the corners of her mouth. “No.”

“Then what —” Harry paused, and something glittered behind his eyes, like a budding star. “Then… _who_ was it?”

It was almost as if he knew —

Ariel looked away, her eyes refocusing on the spider, who was now making its way down the wall, very near where her brother was seated, whose gaze she felt the need to avoid.

“Severus.” she said, not moving her lips.

_“What?”_

“You know, Severus.” Ariel joked weakly. “Hates children… hates dad even more…”

“I heard you.” Harry said with a frown at Ariel’s feeble attempt at humor. “But why would you be afraid of him? I would get why someone like Neville is, but you? He’s your _father,_ Ariel. Your adoptive one, at least.”

“I’m not afraid of him.” Ariel said, her voice strong and defensive. “I’m afraid of what he was.”

Harry studied her for a moment, and Ariel could almost see the wheels turning in his brain. “What he was? You mean, when he was a Death Eater?”

Ariel felt her insides twist into knots at his words. “Yes. Just his… his _presence_ as he walked out of the wardrobe… knowing that he’d once looked like that really scared me. He was smiling — and Dad doesn’t smile — in a creepy way, almost looking like he’d just gotten away with murder, and he had this eerie glow to him, it was like dark magic was just _radiating_ off him.” Ariel swallowed as she recollected the event. “And then he came right up to me, and lifted up his sleeve, and the Dark Mark was there, wriggling away.”

Harry’s gaze shifted from his sister to the floor, comprehending everything she’d described. “So, you’re afraid of what he _was,_ or what you think he might become if he has to go back?”

Ariel took a breath. “Both, I guess. I know that those days are over, but _considering_ if Voldemort does return…”

“You’re afraid that he might actually lead into his old ways again.” Harry finished flatly.

“I never said that.”

“You’re implying it.”

“Am I?” Ariel’s voice sounded colder than she intended.

There was another long silence before Ariel spoke again.

“Look, I’m sorry. And I know I’ve probably said that at least a thousand times today, but I am. You know I hate lying to you. I just… it was hard for me to understand at first, you know, _why_ my Boggart was Dad, so I felt like I had to figure that out for myself first. I won’t lie anymore — I won’t not tell you things, okay? I should have come to you sooner… but I had to deal with Dad first.”

 _I’ll just wait until the right time to tell you about my biological parentage._ The voice in Ariel’s head sounded cruel, but it was truthful. Ariel hated the fact that she wasn’t brave enough to say it out loud. Perhaps not in that wording, it would require a long talk, but she hated herself for avoiding it. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to hide it forever, as she had hoped for the past two years, but now was _not_ the time to open that can of worms.

“I know this is a stupid question,” Harry’s expression. “but with what Sirius thinks… Severus hasn’t… ever, right?”

Ariel frowned. “Why does everyone keep asking me that when I tell them? Does Severus _honestly_ seem like the type of person to do that? He gives himself an ulcer every time something tries to kill us.”

“You’ve told people?” Harry’s eyebrows travelled further and further up his forehead. “You mean, before you told me?”

“Well, I mean, Lupin was there as I did it, so obviously I talked about it with him, and so was my father, and… I didn’t want that much time to pass. He was really upset…”

“Anyone else?”

Ariel hesitated as she felt her face fall back into it’s relaxed phase. “And Damon. Considering what his Boggart is, I just felt like he’d… understand. I just needed to someone to talk to who knows what I’m going through.”

“I get that.” Harry said, quietly, although for a split second, Ariel could almost see a flicker of hurt flash through his face. “So why’d you talk to him before me?” He looked… oddly small, pressed up against the wall beside her.

“I told you.” Ariel sighed. “The whole bloody school knows Damon’s Boggart is his mother. My Boggart is my father —  I mean, my father in his Death Eater form— if that’s a thing. I just… I knew he would understand. I knew I was going to tell you, but you were angry and I thought it was… selfish of me to add to the situation, with Sirius and all.”

“Okay.” said Harry. There was another pause. “Was that why Severus was in such a bad mood the other day? I mean, he’s usually not especially pleasant, but he was… nastier than usual. Do you think it was because of the Boggart?”

“Because of his own daughter being afraid of his Death Eater alter ego? Probably.” Ariel ran a hand through her hair.

“Did he go off at Lupin or anything?” He asked.

“Go off at him? No, not that I know of. I already asked him if he’d done something… he said Lupin’s just ill.”

“Awfully good timing, though, don’t you think?”

“They haven’t spoken, Harry. And if Severus was plotting my godfather’s murder, I think I would’ve heard about it.”

“We haven’t heard anything about _anything_ lately.” Harry muttered, sounding suddenly very annoyed, “Lupin is gone and we haven’t heard from Sirius —”

“That’s a _good_ thing, you know.”

Harry made a face, and then brought his knees up to his chin, “I think about him… since we left him in the Forest. Hermione says we shouldn’t… that the truth will come out one way or another, but I’m still worried.”

_I’m risking the Dementors to get you the hell away from Snape!_

“I just don’t want anyone getting hurt.” Ariel sighed, poking him in the arm, “Least of all you. Lupin told you to back off, didn’t he?”

He gave her a look that didn’t quite reach his eyes, “He said he’d… do what Sirius said he wanted.”

“I’m lying to my father now, you know. About… the dog. I covered for you… but he knows something isn’t adding up.”

“I don’t think he’ll hurt Severus.” Harry said seriously, his eyebrows furrowing, like he was looking at some complex calculation, “I think he’s just… scared. Whatever Lucius said… but why would he be talking about us — to who?”

“That doesn’t matter.” Ariel frowned, “We’ve got to go about this… better than we have in the past. We’ve got to think about the Dementors… and Severus… who may or may not be _worse_ than the Dementors —”

“We don’t have to worry about them!” Harry seemed to perk up, his green eyes nearly glowing with excitement, “Lupin said there’s a charm he can teach me. Snape told me about it — it’s called the Patronus charm.”

 _“Snape_ told you about it?”

“He said to ask Lupin. I don’t think he actually _meant_ for me to go to him, but I did.” He grinned cheekily, “You should come… y’know, when Lupin turns up again.”

Her heart warmed inside her chest, “I’d… love to.”

“Do you think Severus would be okay with it? You, going to Patronus lessons with me when Lupin comes back?” Harry pondered, shifting his feet.

“I… won’t tell him until after we’ve talked to Lupin.” She said seriously, “He’ll follow us to lessons, and if we’re going to find out what’s going on with Black, he can’t be there.”

“Right,” Harry nodded, “are you… okay with keeping all this from him?”

She contemplated this. Lying seemed to be coming to her as easy as studying did for Hermione. Ariel certainly didn’t want Harry thinking she was _okay_ with lying… she only did it to protect them… or at least, that’s what she told herself most of the time. And Severus charging into the Forest to find Black-the-dog did _not_ seem like something she wanted him to do.

“It’s for his own good.” Ariel said, rubbing her temple tiredly, “It’s not like we’re not telling _anyone._ Lupin knows — and he’s an adult we can trust. Sirius isn’t going to hurt us, but he _will_ hurt Severus.”

Harry’s eyes flashed, “He’s only trying to protect us.”

“So is Dad.”

He huffed, “I know… he’s just got a funny way of showing it. He was acting mental the other night.”

“And Sirius wasn’t?” She shot back.

“To be fair, he _was_ locked up in Azkaban for twelve years. If I were him, I’d be going mad too, especially if I thought my godson and his sister were being taken care of by a Death Eater. Well, at least Sirius thinks that he is. Imagine if he knew your Boggart…”

Ariel shuddered. “He’d take it the wrong way, that’s for sure.”

There was another silence as Ariel took the time to detect the old grandfather clock sitting in the lower section of the long hallway. Squinting her eyes, she could barely make out the time; half past nine.

“It’s late.” She said, standing up and brushing herself off from the dust that had collected around her robes. “McGonagall’s going to have a hippogriff if I’m out past curfew. Severus won’t be happy with you either.”

“Okay.” Harry murmured, copying his sister’s actions, except he faced the other direction, the path that lead to the dungeons. “See you later. Godspeed, sister.”

Ariel felt a faint smile pass through her lips, although as her brother made his way down the empty corridor, she lingered with her back against the wall.

Why did everything feel like a lie? Why was it so _easy_ for her to not tell the truth these days? She was lying to her father about Sirius, to her brother about her true parentage —  why did it all of a sudden feel so natural?

Feeling dejected and worse than before Harry had bumped into her, Ariel decided to go and see her father instead of heading up to Gryffindor Tower. She felt herself wanting to know what her father and Harry had spoken about. It must’ve been after _their_ talk a few nights ago… Ariel had decided to give him some space after that, let the dust settle, until she and Harry could talk properly. She hadn’t expected Harry going to _Severus…_ though, that wasn’t necessarily a _bad_ thing. She felt herself smirk at the thought.

Ariel found Severus where she had last spoken to him — on the couch in front of the fireplace. She was mildly surprised that he wasn’t grading — school nights were spent doing that so that on weekends, he could brew. He had something propped open in his lap — a book of some kind Ariel had never seen him with. When Severus looked up upon her entrance, however, he slammed it shut, and it disappeared in a small puff of smoke.

“Hi,” she leaned against the door, cracking a small smile, even though her conscience was still eating away at her. “Am I interrupting?”

He just… stared at her. It wasn’t a glare — it wasn’t much of anything, really. It was like staring at a Muggle painting and waiting for the expression to change.

“What’d I do now?” Ariel sighed, dropping her rucksack on the ground. No-Response-Severus meant she’d done something wrong.

“Your brother told me something,” Her father’s voice was brittle. _“Interesting.”_

Ariel quickly racked her brain for everything she’d admitted to Harry, which wasn’t very much, if she thought about it. “Harry told me something interesting too. He said he came to talk to you?”

“He did.” Severus’ eyes narrowed. “He wanted… to discuss whatever it was Black told him.”

“About you being a Death Eater?”

He gave a sharp nod — his eyes still hadn’t left hers. They were swirling, like quicksand. Ariel still couldn’t gage if he was upset with her, or just talking in Severus-Speak because he was worried about everything that had been happening.

“He sounded like… well, he didn’t go into detail.” Ariel slowly approached the couch, leaning on the arm of it. “I don’t think he’s angry with you anymore. What’d you tell him?”

“I…” Her father finally looked away, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I showed him a… memory.”

Ariel was stunned — she felt like he’d thrown a bucket of ice water in her face. “You… wait, _what?”_

“Are you hard of hearing?” He gave her a one-eyed glare.

She rolled her eyes. “Not yet — did you really?”

Another nod. He wasn’t looking at her at all. Ariel watched him, confused, trying to decode his demeanor, but she still couldn’t piece it together. He didn’t _seem_ mad… just annoyed, and it didn’t really seem to be directed at Ariel all that much. It was like… he’d made a mistake and was just now regretting it, which only puzzled her further. Her father didn’t… talk to her about this kind of stuff, _especially_ if it made him uncomfortable.

“What memory?” Ariel maneuvered herself over the arm so that she was now fully seated next to him. She gazed up at him curiously — he looked back up at her, his face blank.

“The… incident that… ended my friendship with your mother.” His lips didn’t move.

Ariel tried to process this new information. She certainly liked _this_ approach better than Severus simply _lying_ to him. It made her own guilt ebb away a bit — it crawled back into whatever hole it was inhabiting inside her head. She couldn’t shake her shock, however. Her father _willingly_ showing Harry — or even Ariel, for that matter — _anything_ about his past was like a solar eclipse — rare, and if you looked at it directly, you’d burn your eyes.

She clung to the scraps he gave to her — though, they weren’t really scraps anymore. Ariel was quite sure there wasn’t anything else he was hiding about her mum from her, but to show _Harry_ something about Lily was… new. Which meant… that Severus showing Harry that memory…

He _cared_ about what Harry thought of him, and he was telling her this because he _wanted_ her to _know that —_ her father didn’t seem to know this, though. He looked like he was trying to figure out a jigsaw puzzle and had lost half the pieces. Her heart felt like it was on fire.

“You’re having me on.” Ariel crossed her arms, biting her lip to hide her smile. 

His face darkened — _now_ he was angry. “What, may I ask, is amusing about this?” Severus snarled. “I certainly don’t see anything to laugh about, seeing as _you_ decided to tell him about _my_ stance on your mother without coming to me about it first!”

All of the feeling drained from her face — Ariel swallowed roughly. “He — he told you —”

When he didn’t change his expression, Ariel looked down at her hands, feeling twice as rotten than before. Every time she tried to balance the scales, it always tipped the wrong way. There was no way to tell Harry the truth without exposing Severus, which Ariel knew for a _fact_ he did _not_ want to happen. It was entirely _her_ choice what she did and didn’t do, but part of her wanted her father to tell her exactly what _he_ wanted… so that she didn’t feel like she was holding all the cards.

“I’m sorry, Dad. I couldn’t keep lying to him.” Ariel said, looking away. “He was asking, and I couldn’t avoid it anymore… not without letting him know I was doing it on purpose.”

After a long moment of silence, and then, she heard her father exhale loudly.

“I wasn’t looking for an apology.” Severus said quietly. “That… aspect, I suppose, is as much yours as it is mine. She is _your_ mother.”

Ariel’s head shot up, shocked. “You _should_ be… you’re _right.”_

He quirked an eyebrow. “The one time I admit my anger is misplaced, you suddenly decide you’re the guilty party?”

“It’s _your…_ thing.” Ariel muttered. “It’s okay, though… I should have told you. It was right after the Chamber… we were all still reeling, and Harry was really upset about what Tom had said…”

“I understand.” Severus squeezed her shoulder, and kept his hand there. “I’m not angry with you… I was simply… your brother is an anomaly.”

“How so?”

“The same way you are.”

Ariel still didn’t know what that meant, but had a feeling she didn’t really need to ask. It was one of those things she understood on a certain level, but couldn’t find the right words to explain it… Severus had a talent for doing things like that.

“You say you and your brother spoke?” Her father interrupted her pondering.

She nodded jerkily. “Just now.”

“I had a feeling Harry was… upset with you.” His stare was trying to coax something out of her, like he was expecting Ariel to burst into tears. “He alluded to it yesterday, but I didn’t pry.”

Ariel shrugged, trying to downplay it. “We talked. We’re okay now.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “You haven’t spoken since Black kidnapped him?”

She went to argue that statement, but bit her tongue. “Harry said we needed… a break for a few days. I guess he thought talking to you first would be more productive than me.”  

Severus sighed, leaning back in his seat. “I… know this is… _hard_ … to maneuver through… but I had hoped that it would be something that would…”

“I mean,” Ariel ran a hand through her hair, looking distraught. “he’s going to have to know the entire truth eventually, right? Honestly, Dad, I’m surprised he hasn’t put the pieces together already.”

“If you… wish to tell him,” Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “I won’t discourage it. However, in light of the current circumstances… with this notion floating about that Black could somehow be _innocent…”_

“I’m not planning on doing it right now.” Ariel said quickly. “I… need time to think about it. We have… other stuff to deal with, anyway.”

Severus gave a quiet snort. “I suppose we do.”

“It would just be too much.” She reached up for his hand, holding it in her lap. She didn’t know if she was telling this to him, or still trying to convince herself.

Her father wrapped his arm around her middle, and Ariel rested her head against his shoulder. She found herself wanting to tell him about Lupin-Patronus lessons and ask if she could come to him for help if she needed it. She wanted to make her own doe appear and show him… prove that she could make something great, that maybe she was capable of such things.

“Have you see Lupin lately?” Ariel asked instead, twisting her head up to look at him. “Harry thinks you might’ve killed him, but I don’t believe that.”

“Not yet, I’m afraid.” Severus said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “And yes, I have — he’s been incredibly ill, though I believe he’s feeling better… unfortunately.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to communicate with him a bit.” Ariel poked his arm.

“We don’t know that.”

She laughed. Severus smirked down at her, his eyes like moonlight stretched across a lake at night.

“Thank you.” said Ariel.

Her father raised both eyebrows. “For?”

“You know.” She whispered — and he did know why she was thanking him, because he did not try and argue her.

“An anomaly you are.” He murmured, and Ariel knew exactly what he meant by it.

* * *

Ariel found Harry waiting for her outside of Gryffindor Tower the next morning, looking well rested and bright-eyed. He talked excitedly to her, and while he spoke of Hermione and Ron’s squabble over Scabbers and Hermione’s ugly cat, Ariel didn’t connect _why_ he was in such a good mood until she a recently-vacated seat at the High Table filled once more.

Lupin was back, though he looked… terrible. Ariel tried to make herself reason that he didn’t look _too_ awful as she studied him, but there really wasn’t any getting around it. Ariel could see dark circles under his eyes, even from her seat at the Gryffindor Table – his hair needed a comb, desperately. The grey flecks in his hair seemed to have multiplied. Lupin’s eyes, however, seemed to brighten when they caught hers and Harry’s staring at him. They waved to him – he smiled, like they were all seeing each other after a very long time apart, and waved back. Ariel saw her father’s lip curl at the end of the table. She ignored it and turned her attention to the note that materialized on top of Harry’s toast.

_If you’re able, I’d like to speak to the two of you after breakfast in my office. If not, I understand. We’ll make other arrangements, if need be._

_— Professor Lupin_

“What does he mean _unable?”_ Harry frowned. “It’s Sunday — what else do we have to do?”

“I think he means Severus.” Ariel said in a low voice. “If he sees all of us leave together, he’ll be suspicious.”

Harry sighed, glancing up at the High Table. “We could wait until _he_ leaves, and _then_ go to Lupin’s office.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Ariel muttered. “Not that we have much of a choice…”

Breakfast was spent keeping one eye on the professors, one on their food, which proved to be a terrible tactic while listening to Damon and Ron bicker over the Chudley Cannons. Harry dropped his eggs into his lap twice, and Ariel spilled her pumpkin juice. Her father seemed to take notice to their clumsiness, giving them What-Is-Wrong-With-You eyes. Ariel ignored him, trying to get _some_ of her food to land in her mouth. She felt better once Lupin left the hall, tensing as she watched Severus rise soon after.

“Let’s go.” Harry tugged at her after a few minutes. She was still reluctant – knowing Severus, he might be waiting just outside, ready to ambush them, but resolved that he’d toned down the stalking since her Boggart. Ariel reluctantly stood and followed him out of the Great Hall. They made it to Lupin’s office, which was nothing short of a miracle, without being stopped.

“If Sirius is in his office,” Ariel told Harry as he knocked on the door. “I’m going to Hex him if he starts talking about Severus like that again.”

Harry rolled his eyes, pushing the door open.

Remus was behind his desk, and he still looked dog-tired. At closer range, Lupin looked like he’d just woken up from a coma and was still disoriented. He was sipping tea behind his desk — Ariel wondered why it wasn’t coffee. He looked like he needed it more than Severus did, and her father was a caffeine addict.

He gave them a worn-out smile. “Ah, there you are.”

“Are you alright?” Harry asked, his demeanor much more eager than hers. He looked like Lupin was holding a present he couldn’t wait to rip open. “How’re you feeling?”

Lupin stood, his amber eyes light, sparkling in the sunlight filtering in through the windows. “I’m surprised _that’s_ your first question based on the last time we spoke.”

Ariel looked to her brother, expecting some kind of explanation, but he didn’t give one.

Instead, Harry strode into the room, leaving Ariel by herself at the door. “Well, we haven’t seen you since Friday… we’ve been worried about you… and Sirius.”

“Wait,” Ariel’s eyes narrowed. “Are we _actually_ having Patronus lessons, or is this a secret meeting?”

“Both.” said Remus. “Since I _have_ spoken to Sirius.”

Ariel’s breath caught in her throat – Harry seemed just as shocked. “You did?”

Lupin nodded. “That’s where I’ve been.”

“So… you being sick was just a cover?” Ariel didn’t know why, but she didn’t like that idea very much. A voice in the back of her mind that sounded like her father started chanting _“I told you I told you I told you.”_

Lupin shook his head, smiling, but in a sad way. “I _was_ ill; it was… simply a convenient coincidence.”

“Oh,” Ariel’s eyebrows furrowed, meaning to ask if he was okay, but Harry beat her to it.

“Are you better now?” He asked, rolling back on his heels – he was practically jumping out of his skin with anticipation. “How’s Sirius?”

“He’s fine.” Lupin motioned for them to sit, and they did. Ariel noticed that he didn’t respond to Harry’s question about _him._ “Or, better, I’d say, now that we’ve spoken.”

Ariel and Harry shared a look — his eyes had gone bright, like holly leaves.

“So… was he telling the truth?” Harry whispered.

Lupin nodded slowly, but didn’t say anything more. Ariel felt her eyes narrow, but Harry was grinning.

Something about this didn’t make Ariel feel better at all. Her heart squeezed against her ribcage — she wanted her dad to be here, to hear what Lupin was telling them himself, and then she wanted to storm out to Sirius in the Forest or wherever he was and make him swear he wouldn’t hurt Severus. The look on Harry’s face was unsettling as well… she wanted to shake him and ask why he wasn’t concerned for Severus, because Severus sure was concerned about _him,_ but knew better than to start _that_ conversation.

Or she was just being ridiculous. Sirius _was_ Harry’s godfather, after all. He had every right to be bothered about the whole situation, and to be overjoyed that he was really _not_ a traitor.

“So…” Harry’s smile faded, suddenly. “Then that means… this Peter Pettigrew… he’s really the one who got our mum and dad killed?”

The muscles in Lupin’s face tightened — the amber in his eyes ignited, like embers spinning away from open flames. Ariel leaned away, wondering how someone could go from pleasant and mild to borderline murderous in the blink of an eye.

“I would say it’s a good thing he’s dead.” Lupin said in a funny sort of voice — like the words were clinging to the back of his throat. “Unfortunately, that will make proving Sirius’ innocence more difficult. It’s partly why he didn’t come forward all those years ago. There was no evidence.”

“But…” Ariel’s mind tugged in a completely different direction. “Professor Lupin…”

“Please, Ariel.” He waved at her dismissively. “It’s Remus, when we’re in private.”

“Er, alright, _Remus.”_ Ariel tested in out — it felt familiar, but strange on her tongue. “What about all the stuff he said about Severus? He… he really… believes that my dad…?”

“I’ve made him promise not to seek him out, the same way Professor Dumbledore has asked Severus not to go looking for Sirius.”

“Why does he think that? Did Lucius really —”

“It’s not important right now.” Remus said gently. “For now, I want you two implicated as little as possible.”

“Implicated?” Harry echoed. “But… but Remus, how’re we supposed to help?”

“You’re not.” He said shortly. Ariel was taken aback — Harry looked hurt. Remus kneaded his forehead, and when he looked back to them, his eyes had turned to honey. “I’m sorry — I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s okay.” Harry said in a small voice. “I just… he escaped to help us… and he’s all alone…”

“I want you to listen to me very carefully.” Remus took each of their hands into both of his, and gave them long, searching looks. “We have to be… careful – _very_ careful from here on out, if we are to help Sirius. You _cannot_ go looking for him. It’s _imperative –_ do you understand me? You could face _legal_ ramifications for this… not to mention the Dementors… you _cannot_ be involved anymore. You need to let Sirius and I handle this.”

Harry didn’t seem to like this idea, but he followed Ariel’s lead in nodding her head. She sure as hell knew she wasn’t going to go looking for Sirius as long as it kept her father safe. Harry didn’t seem to sense that — how incredibly worried Severus was about him… how he thought Sirius was trying to lure him away, the same way he’d thought Harry would his first year at Hogwarts.

“Will you at least keep us updated?” Harry asked, his green eyes swimming.

Remus nodded, ruffling his hair. “He asked about you two, you know. He’s been watching you fly, Harry.”

He straightened up. “He does?”

“He _does?”_ Ariel asked, uneasy. If her father knew _that,_ he’d have a hippogriff. This _“lesson”_ just seemed to be molding into a culmination of Things Severus Wouldn’t Like.

Thankfully, Remus didn’t expand on that. Instead, he stood, gave a long yawn, and quirked his eyebrow down at them. Ariel got the impression he was purposefully being vague about Sirius, and that didn’t make her feel any better, even though she wasn’t sure she wanted to know any more.

 _“So...”_ Remus had taken out his own wand, and indicated that Ariel and Harry should do the same. “The spell I am going to try and teach you two is highly advanced magic – well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. It is called the Patronus Charm.”

“How does it work?” asked Harry nervously. Ariel swallowed her answer, not wanting to have to lie about her dad’s Patronus — she had a feeling that he wouldn’t react well to Lupin knowing about _that._

“Well, when it works correctly, it conjures up a Patronus,” Remus said. “which is a kind of Anti-Dementor charm – a guardian which acts as a shield between you and the Dementor. The Patronus is a kind of positive force, a projection of the very things that the Dementor feeds upon – hope, happiness, the desire to survive – but it cannot feel despair, as real humans can, so the Dementors can’t hurt it.”

Ariel was pretty sure he was downplaying it — her dad’s Patronus had made her feel much more than what he was listing. It was like touching a dream carved in stone.

“What does a Patronus look like?” asked Harry curiously.

“Each one is unique to the wizard who conjures it.”

“Each one?” Ariel frowned.

Remus nodded. “No two are alike… well, actually, that’s not entirely true. For two people to possess the same Patronus, there has to be a… significant amount of devotion there. It’s not very common.”

“So what would it mean if two people _did_ share the same Patronus?” she asked.

“Well… I’ve seen cases where two people in love… one of their Patronus’ will change. While I was in school, there was a boy named Levon Killinger — his Patronus changed to Dorcas Meadow’s after they started dating.”

“Wow.” Harry said, his eyes widening. Ariel felt her chest give a pleasurable squirm. “And how do you conjure it?”

“With the incantation — _Expecto Patronum.”_ Ariel answered before she could stop herself. Harry blinked at her, obviously surprised. She grinned sheepishly up at Remus. “Sorry.”

He chuckled. “Don’t be — I suppose you asked Severus about it?”

“He might’ve given me some… pointers.”

“I don’t suppose you can tell us what the trick is to making one appear, then?”

“You…” Ariel cleared her throat. “You have to think of a really happy memory.”

“Very good.” Remus gave her shoulder a pat. “That’s the key to a strong Patronus.”

“Severus told you about it?” Harry cocked his head. “Could _he_ do the charm?”

“He just told me about it.” Ariel said quickly, shrugging. “I didn’t ask him to show me.”

His eyes lingered on her for a moment, as though he sensed the lie. Ariel cleared her throat and looked back up at Remus. “Can _you_ cast it?”

A funny look passed over his face. “I haven’t had a need to in many years… the most I could ever get was a leg or two… originally, I used to be able to produce something corporeal, but…”

“What was it?” Harry asked, his eyes shining again.

“A wolf.” Remus said — he didn’t sound happy about this.

“Like Sirius?”

He barked a laugh. “He wishes he was a wolf. He’s a dog. _Now,”_ Remus clapped his hands together. “I want the both of you to think of a happy memory — think of how you felt, what you were thinking in that moment. When you’re ready, capture that feeling, and cast the charm.”

Ariel sat back down and tried to think of a good, happy memory. She had a lot from her childhood, but those weren’t _clear —_ did they have to be clear? She supposed it didn’t really matter, as long as you could remember how it made you feel. But then there were more recent ones… like when she first met Harry, or when Severus had held her after Tom, or his Patronus.

His Patronus… the way it had made her feel…

That would do, Ariel supposed. That feeling of joy, so thick and real and a part of her, a product of _her,_ of her mum… she wanted to bask in that happiness forever.

She nudged Harry. “What’re you thinking of?”

He grinned. “Get your own memory, Potter.”

Ariel snorted. “I don’t think you can really _cheat_ at this sort of thing, you tosser.”

“I’m thinking about that time you face planted in the hallway because you were trying to skate around in your socks.” 

“Funny — I’m thinking about when Hedwig got loose and nearly took off your head.”

“Charming, you two.” Remus called from his desk — he sounded like he was trying not to laugh. “Since you’re both obviously ready, who’d like to go first?”

“Harry does.” Ariel answered. “He’s been waiting for this since the Quidditch match, after all.”

 _“Expecto Patronum,”_ Harry repeated under his breath as he stood. _“Expecto Patronum.”_

 _“Espresso Paranoia.”_ Ariel whispered loudly.

“Stop it!”

“Concentrating hard on your happy memory?” Remus asked him in a knowing voice.

“Oh – yeah.” said Harry, blushing. “Expecto patrono – no…”

_“Experience Productivity.”_

_“Patronum_ – sorry.” Harry gave her a look.

_“Extracurricular Policy”_

“Extracuri — _no, Expecto_ _Patronum, Expecto Patronum –”_

Ariel giggled, about to make another joke when something whooshed suddenly out of the end of his wand; it looked like a wisp of silvery gas. She thought of doing the same thing, except a doe leaping out of the end of her wand, and felt her chest ache longingly.

“Did you see that?” Harry exclaimed. “Something happened!”

“Very good,’ said Remus, smiling. “Alright, Ariel – your turn.”

Ariel stood, concentrating on the way her dad had looked at her, the reverence in his eyes, the sparkle of silver and gentle touch of the doe. She let her eyes slide closed, lifted her wand, picturing the doe, letting her heart expand as the heartbreak transcended to joy —

 _“Endearing Pandemonium.”_ Harry said to her right.

She opened one of her eyes. “I’ll show _you_ pandemonium —”

“Alright, ceasefire.” Remus chuckled. “Go ahead, Ariel. _Expecto Patronum.”_

Ariel steadied herself, and closed her eyes, picturing the doe, her heart soaring –

 _“Expecto Patronum.”_ she whispered. She opened her eyes, hoping to see the last of the wisps Harry had produced himself, but there was nothing.

“Did… did it work?” Ariel asked, looking to Harry, and then, to Remus.

He shook his head. “I’m afraid not — give it another try.”

Trying to shake off her discouragement, Ariel closed her eyes again and reached into the memory, felt the doe nuzzle her hand, felt her father’s eyes watching her –

_I didn’t know what I wanted_

No… that wasn’t what _she_ wanted…

_I see how very much you wrestle with that idea_

Ariel opened her eyes, Tom’s voice suddenly ringing in her ears. He was nowhere _near_ that memory… why the hell was she thinking of _him?_

“Ariel?” Remus’ hand touched her shoulder, his hand feather-light. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” She shook her head. “I… I don’t know what’s wrong with me…”

“Perhaps I should let you think a bit on your own… maybe it’s distracting doing so on the spot…”

Harry’s face fell. “That’s it?”

“No… you can keep going.” Ariel forced out, trying to block out the hammering in her throat. “I’ll… maybe I’m just not ready. Maybe my memory’s not right…”

“If you’re sure…” Remus’ eyes were boring into hers, like he knew how upset she was.

She nodded jerkily, keeping her eyes on the door and away from her brother. He’d know how close she was to tears if she looked at him, and the last thing she wanted was to ruin this obviously happy moment… finding out Sirius _was_ innocent… the Charm… she didn’t want to stamp out whatever he’d made for himself just now.

Ariel looked at Harry and Remus, watching as Harry said the incantation a second time — more silver flew out of the end of this wand.

She took that image of her brother and tucked it away somewhere, for later.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry this is later on in the day — I meant to finish this yesterday but I had the wORsT migraine and couldn’t look at anything electronic.
> 
> Thank you all for the asks/reviews/messages. They made this really shitty week a whole lot less shitty.
> 
> Please review — it’s really nice to know there’s an audience around. Xx


	71. Stepping Stones

Severus knew something was wrong when he heard three doors slam consecutively. The first was the door to his quarters, and then, to Ariel’s bedroom, and _then,_ to her bathroom.

He didn’t immediately rise and go after her. Instead, Severus took that moment to clear his mind of everything — Black and Ariel and the Boggart and Harry — and watch the door. More often than not, Ariel would come flying back in and start ranting about whatever it was that had happened. Had she and the boy had another row? That didn’t seem very likely so soon after they’d reconciled. Ariel and Harry had never really been the type to bicker with one another, but Severus supposed that given the tense circumstances regarding Black, that maybe it had been enough to snap the proverbial camel’s back.

When Ariel didn’t re-enter the room, Severus rose and walked into her room. She’d thrown her satchel on the floor, and the door to her bathroom was closed. When he jiggled the knob, he was unsurprised to find it locked.

“What happened?” Severus sighed against it.

“I did.” Ariel voice replied, muffled.

“Are you injured?”

“No.”

“Did you injure _someone?”_

_“No.”_

“Are you simply wallowing?”

There was a pause, and then a begrudging. _“Yes.”_

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Severus waited a moment, anticipating her to throw open the door and tell him what was wrong, but she didn’t. She didn’t even respond to his remark.

He walked slowly back to his desk, falling into the seat as he pinched the bridge of his nose. His head had been throbbing, like a tree branch scratching along the siding of a house, but trying to decode whatever had his daughter upset had turned it into a full-blown migraine.

If it _was_ the boy again — he doubted it was Lupin, because he didn’t have the stomach for conflict — then Black was a bigger issue in _that_ respect than he’d anticipated. The boy wanted something that wasn’t there… something Ariel had repeatedly tried to give him, but couldn’t, because she was as hungry as he was in many ways. Severus couldn’t give either of them what they really wanted — he had never really thought he was _giving_ anything, except his life. At this point, he was simply giving them what they wanted — Ariel wanted a father and a brother, and so a father and brother she had. Harry wanted a sister and a parent… but Severus did not know how to give him the latter. He’d tried to ignore that idea, wave it off as something preposterous, but Harry was unconsciously unrelenting. After what Black had said… Severus could only begin to fathom what was going through his head.

Harry wasn’t coming to him… he’d come to confront Severus about the Death Eaters, but he had not returned. The truth in that — the _true_ reasoning — terrified him, because if that boy trust Black, and Black _took_ him —

And if Ariel went _after them —_

Severus shook his head and tried to push away that possibility. He hoped that Ariel would at least… _she_ trusted Severus wholeheartedly. If there was a rift growing between them, however, and Black’s words had clawed deep enough at Harry, and he asked Ariel to _choose…_

No, Harry would never do such a thing. He didn’t have a reason to — Lily’s son would never, even if he was part Potter. The idea of James Potter contributing to the existence of the incomprehensible and ultimately good hearted child was mind boggling, now. Harry had saved the girl’s life last year. He would never do something that would directly put her in harm’s way…

Severus needed to stop projecting like this. Not _everything_ Ariel did related back to life and death, although most times, Severus felt like he might die, seeing the girl upset. He needed to learn how to separate Parenting from Preventing Harm to Lily’s Children. 

Ariel appeared in the doorway a half an hour later, looking resigned. He quirked an eyebrow at her, and she gave him a half-smile.

“I’m fine.” Ariel mumbled. “I’m just frustrated.”

“About?” He leaned forward, motioning for her to take a seat in one of the chairs facing his desk.

She squirmed as she sat. “I… well, Harry and I, that is… we’re taking private lessons with Professor Lupin.”

Severus tried to keep his composure as the rage built an overwhelming inferno inside of him. He was impressed with himself, really, for not letting any of it leak onto his face. It was the very thing he’d feared the most with Lupin’s arrival… besides Black, but it would give him the access he needed if he was working with him…

“What _kind_ of lessons?” He asked, watching Ariel carefully. She looked nervous, and seemed to be watching his reaction just as closely.

“Patronus lessons.” Ariel looked away, “It was more Harry’s idea than anything… he wanted to learn and asked Professor Lupin, and then he asked me if I wanted to tag along.”

“I see.”

She bit her lip, “Are you mad?”

She seemed to be bracing herself. Severus studied her, narrowing his eyes at the way her arms tightened around her her legs as she put them up onto the chair.

“I’m not angry.” Severus said (he was he hated that fucking werewolf). “Although I wish you would have told me earlier.”

“I know.” Ariel hung her head, looking terribly guilty. “I’m sorry… I don’t… think I’m going to go again, anyway.”

“What happened?” He growled. “What did he do?”

She looked up, obviously taken off guard. “Who? Remus?”

 _“Remus?”_ Severus echoed.

“Don’t do that.” Ariel bit her lip. “Please, okay? He didn’t do anything, and neither did Harry. It’s _me.”_

She appeared torn — shredded, as if Ariel had been gravely disappointed. Severus considered this as she avoided his inquisitive gaze. He’d come to realize after the Chamber that the girl was incredibly insecure — though, weren’t most girls her age? Lily had been — she’d only let her true self show around Severus. Head Girl Lily Evans and Severus’ Lily Evans had been two radically different people. The Lily _he’d_ known had cursed and thrown things when she’d been angry — she’d slammed doors and screamed until her face was as red as her hair. Head Girl Lily made Valentine’s Day decorations with the girls in her year and gushed, when Severus knew for a fact that she couldn’t stand being in charge of things like that. She hadn’t liked being in charge of anything, really.

And Severus… well, he’d been a radically different case. Their daughter, however, did not mask her own sense of self-worth nearly as well. Severus had thought it had been Ariel’s way of pulling away… but looking at her now, knowing that she cared for much as much as he did for her, he saw a very different picture.

He rose from his chair behind the desk and jerked his head in the direction of the couch. Ariel’s eyebrows furrowed, but she followed, seating herself beside him.

“Patronus lessons.” Severus said once Ariel had settled herself. “I assume they didn’t go as planned, based on your demeanor.”

She gave him a long look, like she was contemplating something — probably lying. He gave her a knowing glare in response, and she grimaced.

“You say we have to think of a really happy memory to make it happen, right?” Ariel asked in a quiet voice.

“Did Professor Lupin fail to inform you of that?” Severus rolled his eyes — risible fuckwit.

“No, he did.” Ariel said. “He _is_ a good professor, so stop trying to blame him. It just… didn’t work for me.”

Severus tried to keep confusion and concern from leaking into his face — the girl didn’t want to be pitied. Merlin knew _he_ hated when she wept over him, and Ariel was exactly the same way, even if she was more forthcoming with how she was feeling. Right now, however, Severus couldn’t decide if her sorrow was stemming from lack of a certain ability, or something deeper.

“The charm, I mean.” She went on, her voice getting lower and lower with every syllable, like she was hoping he wouldn’t hear her. “The memory, too… I tried thinking of a different one, but I couldn’t do it. _Harry_ could.” her tone turned bitter — he’d never heard jealousy in her voice before, but it made it sound hollow and uneven, like a carved out log.

“The boy could?” He was surprised, and a tad impressed, but he didn’t think now was the time to pay Harry any mind — it was comforting, in a sense, to Severus, if anything.

“Just some silvery smoke.” Ariel crossed her arms and tried to incinerate the carpet with her glare. “Remus was going to let him try it on his Boggart… since it was a Dementor and all.”

Severus quickly racked his brain for something to say that wouldn’t push her to the verge of tears. He _wanted_ to ask what _she_ thought had happened, but something told him that if he did that, she’d crumble. Ariel’s temperament was as explosive as his own, and if she felt as though her ability was being questioned — which she was doing indirectly — then she’d shut herself away until her walls came crashing down on her. Severus needed to perform a controlled demolition. 

“It is… a powerful and taxing charm.” Severus decided on, “It bears no weakness on your part if you cannot produce something corporeal your first attempt at it.”

Her eyes shimmered, like a mirage. The ends of her lips twitched, and she bowed her head.

“I started thinking about Tom, and it ruined it.” Ariel looked down at her hands. “Why can't I… why did I think of him?”

_This is a waste of time!_

Every memory, tainted by James Potter, tainted by the Dark Lord

_If you do not learn to separate the good from the bad, Severus, it will never work_

Lily laughing, Lily hopping over stones in the middle of the river — c’mon Sev let’s go c’mon _Snivellus it’s the mere fact that he exists really —_

 _You’re right — this is fucking pointless! I have_ nothing _to draw from!_

 _There_ is _something — I have seen it, on that hilltop…_

Please, my Lord, I’ll do anything —  _I must say Severus I am disappointed_

_Often, it’s not about becoming a new person, but becoming the person you were meant to be, and already are, but don’t know how to be_

His chest burned — his lungs felt they’d been scraped out of his chest. Severus found himself recalling her when she’d been little, and how bright and energetic she was — Harry had been similar, only… quieter. He’d found himself afraid, in the late hours of the night, of the same darkness that had plagued his own childhood and killed Lily and Potter somehow reaching Ariel — and even Harry — and taking something away, whether it be their lives, or bits and pieces. It had happened, every year, little by little, and while he’d noticed and tried to be a tourniquet, there was only so much he could do as her father.

That thought terrified him beyond all else, because she had been tainted in the same way he had in his youth. It was not to the same extent — there was no Dark Mark painted on her arm or blood on her hands — but Ariel had tasted the darkness and had not known how to snuff it out.

“You think of him because he has taken from you.” Severus said quietly, putting his hand over hers. “He is the cause of any unhappiness in your life… you’ve seen his mind, understood how unsalvageable it is. That kind of mark never leaves you. Not entirely.”

“I feel like no matter how hard I try to tell myself he’s not, he’s still hiding away in my head.” Ariel bit her lip. “Maybe there’s something wrong with me… maybe he took something with him, when I stabbed the diary. I can’t explain it… I sound mental…”

_Do you swear your loyalty to me, Severus? Do you swear your soul?_

“You’re not mad.” He felt his chest tighten at her confession. “You’ve been hurt — it shows that you're human. It shows that you _feel,_ my girl.”

“Well maybe I don’t _want_ to feel!” Ariel shot back loudly. “It’s like I’m always caught in the middle of something and I hate it! I want to be… like Harry. He can sort his emotions out just fine… _he_ could make silvery stuff come out of his wand! What if there’s something wrong with me because I _couldn’t?_ I’ve never not been able to do magic… it’s always come easily, and this… it’s based on something so _simple_ and I _know_ I’ve felt it before, but I can’t _make my own…”_ Her hands threaded through her hair frantically, like she was trying to keep herself together.

“Ariel,” Severus cupped her face with his hands. “It was the _first lesson._ This isn’t something you’ve failed at repeatedly.”

“I never failed before Tom.” She whispered. “Not like… this. It’s the _one thing_ I’ve wanted… that I thought I could give myself. I wanted to feel…”

“Whole.” he finished quietly. “I know, my girl.”

“How could _you_ know?” Ariel scowled. “Your Patronus… it’s _perfect._ Remus said he couldn’t even do a full one…”

“It took me almost a year to produce a corporeal Patronus.”

She blinked. “What? Really?”

Severus gave her a sideways glare. “Death Eaters were reportedly unable to perform the charm — we never had a need for it, anyway. We used the Dark Mark to communicate.”

Ariel visibly shivered. “But you… never stopped loving Mum, right? That’s why _you_ could, eventually.”

“It was still… weak, at first.” He admitted, watching her eyes widen in shock.

“What changed?”

“I did.” Severus, recalling her words from before. “When you were given to me. I found… something with purpose. It was different than caring, and knowing I had lost that, and in stride, the happiness in which memories of your mother were encased. When trying to produce a Patronus to communicate with the Order, I was only fueled by desperation to keep your mother alive. I was terrified, and every time I tried to cast the charm and failed, I felt hopeless. Even though I wanted to do everything in my power to help, it just wouldn’t take. After I had you… I suppose that need had subsided. There was no longer any direct danger, and you were… a part of her, and myself that I hadn’t known. It was effortless.”

She was crying, but didn’t seem aware of it. They were silent tears, which were infinitely better than _loud_ tears, but Severus still hated seeing her face twisted like that, as if she felt she was the cause of his sorrow and his strength. The girl had indeed inherited his inability to separate, and would need to learn that in her own way.

Severus felt strangely raw — his tongue felt heavy, like he’d said too much and now his body was weary for it.

“Will it take _me_ that long?” Ariel asked quietly. “The whole point of learning the charm was to repel the Dementors.”

“Only you can answer that, my girl.” He ran his thumb along her cheek. “It doesn’t mean you're weak, or stupid, or whatever other nonsense you’ve conjured up inside that head of yours. It simply means that you’re refined, and need to learn how that translate to how you feel. Harry is… an undoubtedly strong boy, but he did not have a deranged, murderous psychopath skulking around inside his head for three months. He has overcome differently than you.”

She smiled — there was no jealousy there, anymore, but only pride. “He _is_ strong. Maybe that’s how darkness wins… by convincing us to trap it inside ourselves, instead of emptying it out. It’s what Tom did… I just… never really… dealt with that aspect of it.”

Severus stared back at her, stunned. He hadn’t expected her to come to that conclusion, and never so swiftly. He wanted to agree, but knowing Ariel and the matters of her heart, she’d probably turn it around on _him_ and his own demons. Ariel was a different type of person – a victim, whereas Severus was the cause of her grief, though she didn’t know it – not in its entirety, at least.

Gods, she sounded like Dumbledore. He hoped he wasn’t parroting the old man when he helped her sort through her emotions.

“What did you think of, child?” Severus asked quietly. “What memory?”

He was quite sure the sentence would start with _when Harry and I,_ but she shook her head and gave him an embarrassed look, like she’d been caught in a lie.

“Your Patronus.” Ariel whispered. “And how happy it made me feel.”

He almost fell off the couch.

“I know, it's stupid.” Ariel muttered. “I tried to make my own by thinking of someone else's.”

Severus could only imagine what must’ve been going through her head. It was only three years ago that he last heard her talking to the picture beside her bed – it was her way of channeling her longing. Now that the boy was here, and the truth was known to her, Severus supposed that some of it might have waned, but Lily would never be soothed.

 _“Stupid?”_ Severus echoed. “Certainly not – how did you equate that to the Dark Lord, then? What caused your focus to shift?”

Ariel ran her hands through her hair and fell against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. “I… don’t really know. I was like… the memory had baggage. I could feel it weighing it down, and when I tried to cast the charm, it didn’t work. When I thought about it harder, with all the bad stuff that was attached, I guess… I thought of Tom and what he would’ve thought about me not being able, and once I started thinking of Tom, I thought of Death Eaters, and you _being_ a Death Eater, and then the entire thing went to shit.”

Severus stared at her while trying to tear the ache in his throat to shreds. He’d said something eerily similar to Dumbledore years ago… almost exactly word for word. There had been no getting around the pain surrounding every memory he had of Lily, of his childhood that he now carried with him because of his mistakes.

She covered her eyes with her arm and sniffled, and Severus wrapped an arm around her so that her forehead came to rest on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry I cry so much.” Ariel muttered. If the situation had been less needy, Severus would have taken that opportunity to try and stop her incessant weeping for the rest of her teenage years, but told himself this really wasn’t the time for that.

He rolled his eyes. “Between my temper and your fountain of never-ending tears, I don’t really believe there’s any reason for you to be apologizing right now.”

“I’m just… disappointed.” She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “I wanted to see the doe again so badly…”

“It could very well be something else.” Severus squeezed her hand. “You should take into consideration that it may _not_ be a doe — _I_ certainly didn’t anticipate it. Perhaps you share a stronger bond with a different type of creature.”

“Yeah?” Ariel muttered. “Like what?”

“Well, considering that you’ve Hexed a considerable amount of them, I’d take squirrels into account.”

She gave a small smile. _“Dad…”_

“A flying squirrel — small, agile…”

“Stop it!” Ariel swatted his arm lightly. “Squirrels give me the creeps, anyway.”

 _“Squirrels_ give _you_ the creeps?”

“They’re… weird. Whenever I’m at my rock I hear them in the bushes, and they scare the piss out of me.”

“Well, then you should stop going to that godforsaken place.”

“Nice try.” She grinned. “It’s going to take more than an army of squirrels to scare _me_ off.”

“Yet another reason your Patronus may turn out to be a lion.” Severus said dryly. “It’ll consume _all_ of the Forest wildlife.”

“You know, I think you _want_ it to be a lion.”

He shuddered. “No, I don’t.”

“Do you want it to be a _doe?”_

Severus didn’t know what to think about that question. He knew he didn’t like it, but also he didn’t want Ariel to get the idea that he _didn’t_ want it to be a doe. If anything, it would just be another indicator that she was her mother — the parts of himself he’d been discovering lately had a disturbing high tally compared to Lily’s.

“It wouldn’t be unwelcome.” He said instead.

She snorted. “I guess it doesn’t matter. We won’t know for a while, anyway. By the looks of it, Harry will conjure his by Saturday.”

“You don’t have to go back if you don’t feel comfortable.” Severus tilted her chin up. “There’s no pressure on my part — there _better_ not be any on Lupin’s — to produce anything.”

“I don’t feel uncomfortable.” said Ariel. “I feel inadequate.”

“That _would_ fall under the uncomfortable category.”

“I’ll manage.”

“You always do.” Severus said, though it came out sounding much more profound than he would have preferred.

* * *

Remus was beginning to think twice about Harry having the Map when he found him waiting for him by the castle entrance.

It was chilly, the kind of cold that wrapped around your bones and lingered on your skin. Remus had decided to bring Sirius a cloak – his thickest one – along with the food he was delivering that night. They’d set their meetings in clockwork type of fashion. They’d rotate days every week so that Remus was not spotted every night – tonight, the designated day was Monday. He hadn’t told Ariel or Harry this in order to ensure that they wouldn’t follow, but Harry still seemed intent on making sure he was kept inside the loop.

“Harry.” Remus gave him a knowing look as he approached, his satchel heavy with food. “What are you doing here? You should be with your House.”

The boy shrugged – it was a short, jerky movement that reminded him strongly of James when he was trying to be nonchalant, and failing. “I was… I was looking at the Map, and saw you going back and forth to the kitchens.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps I was hungry.”

Harry gave him Don’t-Do-That eyes.

Remus sighed, smirking as he shook his head. “You’ve been keeping watch?”

He nodded. “On Sirius too. He’s been on the Forest line all day.”

That was a good thing, in a distant, unimportant sense. Remus supposed that as long as Sirius stayed as Padfoot, he’d be fine, but if Harry had gone to meet him, he was certain that Sirius wouldn’t have been able to resist the temptation of turning back into a man. He was oddly… _happy_ that Padfoot was still close, but it also terrified him. Remus had _told him_ to stay in the _Shrieking Shack –_

“You didn’t go after him, did you?” Remus’ eyes narrowed.

“No,” Harry eyes widened innocently. “of course not! I had classes all day, anyway. I didn’t even have time to practice for Quidditch.”

“Good,” Remus put a hand on his shoulder. “it should _stay_ that way.

Harry gave a small smile. “You’re going to see him now, aren’t you?”

He let his hand drop and shifted the satchel. Part of him that sounded like James said to bring him — the had the Map, so they could easily avoid Snape or any of the other staff members, if need be, but the other part of him knew that would be too much to risk. If the Dementors _did_ find them in the Shrieking Shack somehow, and Remus found himself unable to fight them off, then Harry would be dead —

“I am,” Remus nodded — he wouldn’t lie to the boy. “But I’m afraid I’m going _alone,_ Harry. We spoke about this during your Patronus lessons.”

“I know.” Harry shuffled his feet. “It’s just that Sirius is —”

“Harry,” He said in a serious voice, grabbing his arm and pulling him to the side. “You can’t be doing even _this_ much. If someone had followed you…”

“I watched for Snape.” Harry said in a low, eager voice. “He’s in his office. I would’ve known if he was following me!”

“And your sister?”

“She’s up by the Astronomy Tower with Damon.” 

“What about your Housemates? Professors?”

“I would’ve _seen_ them, Remus.”

“I _know.”_ Remus sighed heavily. He felt like all of his good intentions were bleeding him into the air around him and leaving him alone as the disciplinarian. “It’s still a risk, Harry, and we can’t be _taking_ risks. Do you understand?”

Harry lowered his head and nodded, appearing ashamed. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to jeopardize everything. I was just curious, is all.”

“I’ll tell you what he says.” Remus patted his shoulder. “I promise.”

He smiled up at him. “Thank you, sir.”

“Of course — now, off you go. Don’t give Professor Snape a reason to keep you in the dungeons until our next meeting.”

Harry grinned cheekily as he walked the other way, the Map under his arm. Remus rubbed his forehead, about to call for him to hide it in his pocket or something, when he saw him fold it and tuck it away in his sleeve. He wondered if he carried it with him wherever he went, or only when he needed it. The way he’d looked at it after Remus had told him Prongs was James made him suspect the former.

He made his way towards the Whomping Willow alone, glad for the walk in order to think before he met Sirius. Remus had decided during dinner, while watching Ariel and Harry sitting at the Gryffindor table, that this was a Drawing Lines meeting. Sirius needed to know just _how_ far Snape was willing to go to catch him if given the opportunity, and how that was _not_ allowed to transpire. He felt that he owed Lily and James to make this as painless for their children as possible, and if Sirius and Snape tore each other to shreds, Ariel and Harry would be caught in the middle.

Remus could sense the way the boy was pulling away from Ariel. She hadn’t seemed to have realized it yet, but he suspected it had to do with her reaction to Sirius. Ariel was worried about Snape; Harry was worried about Sirius… _and_ Snape. He hid the second part quite well, but he could see how much this all bothered him… how life had once again unfairly taken something and not given back.

Freeing Sirius wasn’t guaranteed to help that, but it would be a start. He recalled Harry’s face after Ariel she’d left their Patronus lessons — _I wish she had stayed to see me do well._

The Shrieking Shack was drafty tonight — winter was coming, but it was testing the waters, like it’d put one foot over the threshold to see what would happen. Sirius seemed to do the same when he caught sight of Remus entering with the satchel. He was still Padfoot, letting out a jubilant bark when he saw him, his eyes immediately going to the food. He’d probably smelt it before Remus had walked through the door.

“Don’t drool,” Remus teased as he set it down. “It’s very unbecoming of Sirius Black the Convict.”

With a soft _pop_ he became a man again. The haunted look in his eyes was still there, but some of the hollows under his eyes had filled in, like their last conversation had healed him. 

“Is this all you brought?” Sirius made a face as Remus tossed him an orange.

“You’ll make yourself sick if I bring anything else.” He told him, unpacking the rest of the satchel, filled with assorted fruits and vegetables — he’d brought some bread and butter, too, but decided to make sure Sirius didn’t vomit _this_ up first.

“No, I won’t.” Sirius huffed, peeling the orange like it was a scab. “Jesus, Moony, I’ve been eating squirrel. I wanted _carbs.”_

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint.” Remus rolled his eyes. “You’re getting the basic food groups before I start bringing dessert.”

Sirius groaned. “You’re the worst. If Prongs were here, he’d have mercy.”

“If James was here, Lily would be here, and she’d be saying the same thing.”

“I’m not a child, if that’s what you’re insinuating.” He growled. “She used to treat us like we were.”

“She treated James like one until he grew up, which is _why_ she agreed to go out with him — you fell a little behind.”

Sirius snorted, but didn’t argue further. Instead, he shoved a piece of the orange in his mouth and smiled at him, the fruit covering his teeth.

“Very mature.” Remus rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t help but smirk. He’d done the same thing at breakfast nearly every morning, somehow managing to take at least one of them off guard. James had spit his pumpkin juice out on more than one occasion — it had come out of Peter’s nose, once.

“How’s Prongslet?” Sirius asked conversationally, but Remus knew he was really asking for everything he had, because he wasn’t looking at him.

“Please tell me that’s not what you’re going to call Harry.”

“It’s _exactly_ what I’m going to call him.”

“Ariel will Hex you if you give her a nickname. She won’t take kindly to it.”

“Yeah, well, neither did Lily when I started calling her Gale, but that didn’t stop me then, now did it?”

He’d nearly forgotten about that. Lily’s middle name had been Abigail, and she’d hated it. When Sirius had found that out, he’d started calling her Gale for short. She’d hollered at him until Remus made her tea to soothe her throat, but after a while, she’d give up.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Sirius said, interrupting Remus’ reminiscing.

 _“Harry_ is doing fine.” Remus said, rolling an apple his way as Sirius finished off the orange. “He’s worried about how you’re doing out here by yourself — he’s got the Map. I think he’s been watching you more than he’s let on.”

Sirius grinned — his eyes were so bright that for a minute, Remus thought all the light in the room might be coming from just them. “Where’d he get it from?”

“Ariel.”

“Where’d _she_ get it?” He bit into the apple.

“I have no clue.”

“Filch had it last — did she swipe it from him?”

“Maybe.” Remus made a note to ask her. “Speaking of Ariel, we need to have a talk about her.” He made his gaze even and blank to let Sirius know he was being serious.

“About Ariel?”

“Yes, _and_ Harry.”

“They’re alright, aren’t they?” Sirius dropped the apple. “I _just_ asked you —”

“Calm down.” Remus gave a pointed look to the apple, and didn’t speak again until Sirius took a small nibble. “It’s about… why you’re here at all.”

He looked puzzled, and then, his face darkened — the light in his eyes went out completely, like a candle doused. “Snape? What’s he done?”

“Nothing.” Remus rubbed a hand over his face and wondered why _he_ was having to explain the strange Ariel-Snape dynamic while also blatantly withholding the fact that Snape had more of a right to that girl than both of them combined. “He’s done nothing to either of them, Sirius, so don’t insinuate whatever it is you’re going to say. Lucius was having you on, for whatever reason, and I don’t think he needed much.”

“He was still a piece of shit, Moony. Death Eaters don’t adopt kids out of the goodness because there’s a bright and shiny surface underneath it all. I want to get to the bottom of this.”

Remus considered briefly telling him about the Boggart, but decided that was probably a guarantee of total war. Ariel would never forgive him for that, and Snape would probably intentionally try to poison him come the next full moon. He wouldn’t understand that… not the way Remus and Harry would have.

“You need to understand that Ariel is… incredibly fond of him.” Remus said — Sirius’ eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his skull. “After you went and scared the living daylights out of all of us, she was practically begging Snape not to go after you. Albus forbade him, but if he thinks for even a _second_ you’re going to try and take them, he’ll burn down the Forest.”

“Why the fuck would he do that?” Sirius demanded. He looked like he was going to be sick, but Remus knew it had nothing to do with Snape.

“Because he c —”

“If you say he _cares_ about that little girl, I’ll fucking vomit.”

“Well, that’d be rather disappointing, seeing as I brought you carbs if you could keep the fruit down.”

“Don’t joke about this!” Sirius snapped. “In what sodding world does Snivellus grow a heart and play daddy to James’ daughter?”

 _In no world,_ Remus wanted to say, because it certainly wasn’t this one.

“I don’t pretend to understand his motives, Padfoot.” Remus said. “I just know they’re not alternative, or dishonest. He’s _extremely_ protective of her, and if he suspects you’re planning something, or that Harry’s in contact with you…”

“And what _about_ Harry? Did he just toss him out like trash?”

Remus couldn’t help it — he flinched. He didn’t know the specifics — he hadn’t asked — but he _did_ know that Harry had gone to Lily’s sister and not Snape. He wanted to tell Sirius that Harry wanted him, how the boy’s eyes filled with the same hunger Remus used to stare at Sirius and James and Peter with. The knowledge that something he wanted was just within arms reach, and he didn’t know if he could touch it. Granted, nothing could replace James and Lily — Remus knew Harry understood that, but he also saw the way he looked at Snape, and it was like catching someone lingering on the outside of a gathering.

It was also… unsettling, because Snape was unfit for human consumption, but apparently, he was fit to parent Lily’s children.

“I don’t think Snape was asked.” Remus cleared his throat. “You’d have to ask Albus.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that. Let me just clean myself up a bit and I’ll waltz on up to Hogwarts.”

“You know what I mean, you arse.”

“It’s fucking wrong, Remus.” Sirius said in a low voice — it rumbled along the edges. “You _must_ realize this isn’t normal in _some_ light.”

“If Snape was hurting her —”

“He’s _not.”_

“Or _touching her —”_

“You’d better not say that in front of her.” Remus warned. _“Ever —_ even _insinuating it._ You said it last time, and I don’t want to hear it again.”

“I can take a little heat from a fourteen-year-old if I’m right, Remus.”

“And what if you’re wrong?” He quirked an eyebrow. “Which you _are —_ but what if you accuse Snape of something that isn’t true? You’ll only be upsetting her, Padfoot, don’t you see that?”

“How do you _know?”_

“I’ve spoken to her.”

“You have?”

Remus blinked. “Did you think she wouldn’t? She _is_ my goddaughter.”

“The way you make her sound… like she’s keeping this whole situation at arm’s length. The day I talked to Harry in the Forest, she only seemed concerned with making sure he was okay… and Sniv.”

“Well, what did you expect, Sirius?” Remus threw his hands up in exasperation. “You grabbed her little brother and started claiming her father is the antichrist. You _can’t_ be this thick!”

Sirius went very quiet — his expressive was pensive, which was very un-Sirius-like. He never thought, he just spoke his mind regardless of what others might think or feel about his opinion. It occurred to Remus then that he must’ve shaken him.

“Look,” Remus leaned his head against the wall as he sank down on his knees. “I’m not thrilled about the situation with Snape either. I wasn’t expecting him to be here at all. How do you think _I_ felt when I noticed how hesitant Ariel was, only to find out it was because Snape didn’t want her around me?”

Sirius made a sound of discontent — it had just enough murderous rage in it to assure Remus he hadn’t spooked him _too_ much.

“We need to convince Snape you're innocent before we do _anything.”_ Remus said — Sirius head shot up like a bullet. “And to do _that,_ we need _proof.”_

“And why the fuck do we need _Snivellus_ for that?”

“Because we need more than just my word, and the word of two children. He’ll be a credible witness.”

“Christ on a bike, Moony,” Sirius threw the finished apple core at the window. “You couldn’t think of _anyone_ else?”

“You’ve put me in a tight spot.”

He cursed a string of words that he hadn’t heard in a long time — they were just as creative as he remembered. Remus watched him reach from the satchel and grab another apple, inspecting it as though he wasn’t sure it was really an apple, and then, take a vicious bite out of it.

He was sulking, Remus realized, with a touch of fondness. It made him feel like he was somewhere else, suddenly — not in this godforsaken shack with his best friend hunted.

“Ariel… she reminds me of… Evans.” Sirius swallowed. “You… you remember, don’t you?”

He remembered — it was _because_ he remembered he was in this position. It was why Conscience wouldn’t leave him alone. Remus wondered what he meant by it, but had a feeling he already knew.

Remus nodded, instead.

“Evans part two.” Sirius said. “Merlin helps us.”

“Help us indeed.” He agreed, and when he looked back, Sirius was smiling.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Pretty sure this is like the third consecutive chapter Ariel and Severus have talked on the couch oOps. I’m sorry this is a lil late I wrote the majority of this within the past four hours so that’s how mY week is gOing, but FYI that I do leave the posting schedule on a Sunday/Monday timetable in case I’m swamped on weekends.
> 
> Please review. Please. I’m gonna need them, lol. Xx


	72. Sanctus

She watched, her eyes transfixed on the boy.

He walked like he was shivering with cold. His shoulders were tense, but the rest of his face was pleasantly smooth. He appeared thoughtful, but his eyes remained glued to the parchment in his hands, his head bent low as he hungrily gazed down. She wished he had worn something warmer — December was closing in on the school like a hand snuffing out a flame.

There were ink spots on the parchment as black as his hair.

He lifted his wand, lit at the tip, a soft glow illuminating his pale face. His eyes sparkled against it — the one dash of color she could see clearly. His eyes were green, but his hair was crow black and his skin white.

Her eyes lingered over names — _Albus Dumbledore_ was pacing in his Tower, _Minerva McGonagall_ in her chambers, but _Severus Snape_ was by an alcove near the Astronomy Tower. His own swept over the page, like they would stop moving any moment, and he wanted to see when they did. She noticed how his gaze lingered on _Severus Snape,_ and then, to _Remus Lupin._

The Shrieking Shack was inhabited by not one, but two pairs of footprints, and another name.

He frowned at the Map, and then sighed. He would go tomorrow, like he had for the past two weekends. He would lie, and he would go, and they would talk, and while he did those things, she would watch and yearn to be able to tell him to stop for the sake of his sister, but she couldn’t.

If she’d been allowed to say anything to him, in that moment, it would not have been that, anyway.

 _“Nox,”_ He whispered, and the light at the end of his wand dimmed.

There was a lull in the quiet, the kind that created a hole of sound. It was like watching the waves in an ocean rip apart and reveal the sand beneath. In a distant sense it was eerie, as though the world had found a new cadence and decided to linger on it just a tad longer than necessary.

It was dark, but it was always dark. Things and people were muted, although, perhaps they’d always been this way, and she’d simply never noticed. The corridors flickered around her as the candlelight swayed in the wind. Darker and colder, even though her touch was unfelt and unknown. It was different than the Muggle world — here, she could catch glimpses of color, like his eyes, now. Magic affected her even if she wasn’t really _here._

She wandered away as he rounded the corner and decided to veer right instead of left. The corridors would cross eventually — she knew this passage well. They were on the third floor, which held only one inhabitant most days — it had contained two his first year.

Everything felt… narrow. She’d felt extremely claustrophobic the first few months, but now, she’d learned to adapt to it. It was the same way everything was muted — space felt smaller, too. It was almost as if her world had been shoved inside a little box and it was just trying to make everything work, but still found it difficult.

She nearly snorted at the irony. 

When she came to where the corridors intersected, she half expected to find him already there, but he wasn’t. Her imaginary heart skipped a beat, and she took a sharp left and would have nearly ran into him, if she was real.

Harry was frowning deeply at the map.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she moved to stand behind him. They urgently searched for what had caused him to halt — she could feel her anxieties flare as she glossed over the map, looking looking _looking —_

There was a name just in front of them — where she last expected to see one.

_Peter Pettigrew_

He was staring at it like the map had burst into flames.

Her imaginary heart leapt into her imaginary throat. She surged forward, where the map told her the name was, the name that couldn’t be, because he was as real as she was.

She spotted him where the map said he was. There was a pathetic huddle of something pressed against the wall —

A rat.

There was nothing but red, now. She hadn’t seen red in a very long time… not _this_ kind. It seeped into her vision — she couldn’t concentrate on him the way she wanted to. The rat was twitching its whiskers around, like he was contemplating something and had decided, but was still uncertain.

Harry looked up from the parchment, looking terribly confused. He slowly looked around. The map was taut in his hands.

He dove around the wall, and she followed — it was almost as if he _knew_ she was matching his every step, but he couldn’t. No one ever had. He moved like he was being chased, and he _was,_ but it wasn’t in fear — not entirely. There was urgency, and precision. He’d never —

The cord snapped — she went flying back. She cursed under her breath and hauled herself back to her feet. They felt cold — not the cold she had once felt, but different, like they were floating away from her body and had left her with nothing to replace them with. Empty.

Harry stood at the end of the corridor, Map in hand.

 _“Hello?”_ he called — there was no answer, like she had expected.

She held her breath for a good twenty seconds, just in case.

She strutted over and looked over his shoulder at the map again. _Ariel Potter_ was down in the dungeons, as still as she had been twenty minutes ago, when she’d last checked. _Severus Snape,_ however —

He seemed to realize the problem the same time she did.

The dot marked _Severus Snape_ on the map took the form of a man at the end of the hallway. She watched him carefully as his figure filled the frame, how his face cut the night air with his laser-beam precision as he scanned the corridor.

He dove under his Invisibility Cloak and huddled against the wall. She could hear his quiet pants.

 _“Harry.”_ he rumbled.

But Harry did not move. She could not see him, and that was how she knew.

The man sighed — or snarled, really.

“He wouldn’t be that stupid.” he muttered. “He wouldn’t.”

He disappeared, and after a long moment, Harry emerged from under the cloak, and swallowed roughly. He slowly unfolded the map and peeked down at it. She did the same, feeling her imaginary chest roiling — it hurt to breathe.

 _Peter Pettigrew_ had disappeared. She looked around frantically, hoping that the rat had scurried the other way by chance, but he was heading down to the dungeons at an urgent pace and a strange gleam in his eyes.

She screamed until her imaginary throat felt raw. Once she stopped, it felt better, like it had granted her permission to start from the beginning once more.

They had a _rat_ to find.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: If you’re super confused that’s a good thing.
> 
> Normal chapters and unraveling this mystery will begin on Sunday.


	73. Something Wicked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Last chapter was meant to be open ended. Some time has passed since then, and there won’t be any Harry POV for the next two chapters; you’ll see why. There’s a bit of a mystery unraveling…

“What’s going on with Harry?”

Ariel looked up from her reading to find Damon watching her like she was about to tell a funny joke.

“What do you mean?” Ariel put down the book. “Did he say something to you?”

Damon shrugged. “It’s the _lack_ of talking. He’s not around as much.”

“He has Patronus lessons, and he’s got Quidditch on top of schoolwork.” she pointed out.

“I’m not talking about that.” he waved the thought away, like it had manifested into smoke between them. “All that aside, he’s been… well, I mean, after the whole thing with Black and Snape, he was on edge, but lately he’s been… weird. Not happy, but, he is, in a way. I don’t know…”

Ariel’s eyebrows furrowed together — there was always something going _on_ with Harry, but nothing _new_ had happened for nearly a month now. There hadn’t been anymore face-to-face contact with Black… just news every week from Remus during Patronus lessons. Severus had even simmered down a bit. He wasn’t stalking them anymore, which was a good sign that he was calming down. Ariel knew he still didn’t believe that Sirius could be innocent, and to be quite honest, she was still wary of him herself, but she knew that Harry and Remus trusted him without a doubt. She was sure there was something to be said about that, but she didn’t know what. The fact that Remus had told Sirius to back off and he had should have comforted her, she supposed, but it didn’t.

She’d even continued going to Patronus lessons to watch Harry most weekends. Sometimes they took breaks — Remus had canceled one of them because he’d fallen ill again — but Ariel always went to watch Harry. Remus had quietly insinuated to her the following week that Harry had been disappointed that she hadn’t stuck around the first time to watch him tackle the Dementor, and she’d felt like she’d been punched in the gut, and so even though she hated just sitting around, she attended. Harry’s Patronus still hadn’t taken a shape, and even though she felt horrible for thinking it, she was glad. She wanted to fix herself so that they could do it together… but all of her practice still wasn’t paying off.

Lessons aside, the meetings filled them both in on Sirius and the developing situation. Remus still hadn’t mentioned a plan, even though Harry grilled him about it every time, but Ariel was quite content with the need-to-know only basis they were on. The less she knew, the less she was keeping from her father.

“There’s nothing wrong with happy,” Ariel said instead. “Despite the fact that every year has us miserable at some point.”

“It’s just… different.” Damon gave the tabletop a considering look.

“I think you’re making something up that isn’t there.”

“Maybe. Maybe I’m not.”

“Are you purposefully _trying_ to start trouble?” Ariel half-teased. “Do you thrive on it or something?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’d rather sit through Binns’ class for three days straight than go running to Snape to tell him you’re in danger again.”

Ariel snorted and turned her gaze back down to the book, but as her eyes skimmed over the print, she found herself thinking over what Damon had said. Harry, despite the fact that they had made up, still hadn’t been very forthcoming about Sirius. She’d noticed, in the weeks after they’d talked to him in the Forest, that Harry almost seemed to avoid the subject altogether unless they were with Remus. Severus had taken this as Harry Coming to his Senses — Remus had simply warned them to stay out of it completely. Ariel had held up her end of that bargain, but what if Harry knew something more and wasn’t telling her? Did he not trust her after finding out that she’d kept her father’s Death Eater days from him? Did he think her a liability _because_ she was so close to Severus, and Sirius wanted his head?

_I’m risking the Dementors to get you the hell away from Snape_

She racked her mind for telltale signs of this. Harry had been fine just after their first Patronus lesson — he’d been excited about it, and had tried to give Ariel some pointers. She’d politely declined, deciding that she wasn’t going to attempt _anything_ until she sorted through this Tom-Voldemort blockage debacle. Truthfully, Ariel had wanted to ask her father to show her, but she had a funny feeling that he’d be uncomfortable with that, and Remus… well, he knew enough, but she felt odd opening up to him when he was _really_ aiding Sirius. She didn’t think that Remus would tell him about the Boggart — maybe he’d forgotten.

There were little moments she’d pushed behind a corner of her mind that Ariel knew would’ve bothered her if she hadn’t. They hid like snakes in grass — a hush falling between Harry, Ron, and Hermione just as she sat down to eat with them during meals… asking repeatedly if she was coming to Patronus lessons, and his hasty excuse to leave right after without her…

“What’s your proof?” she asked, closing the book with an audible _thunk._

He gave her a long, knowing look.

“What?” Ariel demanded, nettled. _“You’re_ the one who brought it up, so tell me what you’ve got.”

“Evidence?” He quirked a dark eyebrow. “Or just my brilliant thought process in general?”

“You have _evidence?_ What’re you, an Auror now?”

“Close,” Damon smirked. “But not quite. It kind of just fell in my lap, and what kind of Slytherin would I be if I didn’t do some digging around?”

“A self-preserving one.” Ariel crossed her arms. “You didn’t think to just, you know, maybe _talk_ to Harry if you’re worried about him? He _can_ hold a conversation.”

“You’re going to tell me that you haven’t been suspicious of him lately?”

“No, because he’s my little brother, and I trust him to tell me if he’s up to something.”

“Well,” Damon folded his hands in front of him. “I might have been doing some investigating of my own into this matter, so hear me out before you go mental on me for not saying something sooner.”

“What _kind_ of investigating?”

“Oh, you know,” he said, lifting his eyes to glance at the ceiling. “the kind that involves making sure your brother may or may not be having secret meetings with a convicted murderer.”

Ariel blinked at him. Her face felt very cold, like there were pins and needles all over it. Harry wouldn’t do something like that. He’d promised Remus — they’d _both_ sworn. Why would he defy him like that?

The answer was still no — he would never. It was _Ariel_ that would do something as stupidly bold as running off to meet with someone the professors and her father were _trying_ to protect them _from._ The only reason she hadn’t was because she didn’t think she owed Sirius anything… he’d done nothing but threaten the people she loved. Remus had said they’d sort it out… and Ariel trusted him enough to believe _that_ point.

 _The boy wants what isn’t there,_ Severus had said to her.

“You think my brother,” Ariel said slowly. “is secretly meeting Sirius Black?”

“The evidence _does_ point in that direction.”

“And what _is_ the evidence, exactly?”

“Alright, _well,”_ He cleared his throat dramatically, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a familiar scrap of parchment.

“You swiped the _Map_ from him?” Ariel whispered angrily. _“Damon!”_

“Relax — I had a diversion.”

“A _what?”_ she buried her face in her hands. “Damon, this is ridiculous… that Map belonged to _James!_ You have no right —”

“Hear me out, okay?” He held up a silencing hand, and Ariel sneered at it. He gave her an exasperated look, like she was a naughty child that wasn’t doing as she was told. It made her even more annoyed than she was already, but she gritted her teeth and stayed silent, meaning for him to get on with his conspiracy theory.

“A couple of weeks ago, Draco went to Hogsmeade like he usually does.” Damon began, leaning forward. “He told me when he came back that he’d found Ron and Hermione standing outside of the fence by the Shrieking Shack. He obviously couldn’t contain himself, so he started messing with them… like he usually does, but that’s irrelevant. Draco said something started chucking snowballs at them — someone who wasn’t there.”

“A ghost attacked Draco with snowballs.” Ariel said flatly.

“No,” He rolled his eyes. “a certain _Potter_ with an _Invisibility Cloak_ did.”

“How do you know it was Harry?” Ariel shot back, unimpressed.

“Well, who _else_ would it have been?” Damon gave her A Look. “Come on, Ariel, really?”

“He could’ve been making it up!”

“Why would Draco make up a story about being pelted with snowballs?”

“It’s _Draco.”_

“Draco would not tell me that Harry attacked him with snowballs.” He snorted. “He’d tell me Harry tried to _murder_ him and hide his body in the Shrieking Shack. That’s how I knew he was telling the truth. He was going to tell Snape about it to get Harry in trouble.”

Ariel went white. “When was this?”

“Maybe two weeks ago?” Damon shrugged. “It’s not important — I talked him out of it.”

“So… you think Harry’s sneaking off to Hogsmeade?”

“That was my first guess. When I asked him about it, he said he wasn’t — said what would he do there, anyway? It’s not like he could have fun without being spotted.”

Ariel nodded. “That’s a good point.”

“So what _would_ he being doing in Hogsmeade, then?” Damon gestured to her, as though she already knew the answer. “Why wouldn’t he bring you?”

She tried not to feel hurt by this possibility. Harry was his own person — they weren’t tied at the hip. There wasn’t any obligation to do _everything_ together, even the things that constituted trouble. If Harry wanted to sneak off to Hogsmeade, he could do that, she supposed. It wasn’t like Sirius was a threat anymore… but why, if Harry really _was_ doing what Damon thought, wouldn’t he tell Ariel? Did he think she would squeal? Did he not want her coming along? She wouldn’t have done either of those things if Harry _had_ told her, but the idea that he hadn’t because he _thought_ she would really stung.

“I don’t know.” Ariel admitted quietly. “It’s… not like Harry.”

“No, it’s not.” Damon agreed, tapping the Map. “Which is why I took _this_ from him.”

She eyed it warily. “If he’s sneaking off to Hogsmeade… wouldn’t he be missing it? He would need it to navigate…”

“Not if he’s been going for the past month. He’s probably figured his way around by _now.”_ Damon sighed. “He _did_ notice it missing today, but he seemed to be in a rush.”

“Damon!” Ariel groaned into her hands.

“Well, how _else_ was I supposed to show you what he’s been doing?”

She glared. _“Damon…”_

“You really don’t know?” His expression went blank — serious. “He hasn’t said a word to you about him going to Hogsmeade? Snape hasn’t noticed? Lupin?”

“I mean…” Her brain felt very crowded all of a sudden, like her thoughts were each trying to talk over one another. “Dad is always suspicious… but he… he and Harry had a talk.”

“A _talk?”_ his eyebrows furrowed. “About what?”

_Your brother told me something… interesting_

“Death Eater stuff.” Ariel muttered. “And our mum.”

“What about Lupin?”

“Lupin lectures us every time we meet on _not_ to go looking for Sirius again… not that we _did…”_ she stopped when she saw Damon’s face go very smooth, like he’d been taken off guard. “What?”

He fiddled with his hands and lowered his head, his blue eyes asking her something he didn’t voice. “Harry hasn’t been following directions much.”

That particular sentence took several moments to weave through her brain. Ariel could hear each _snap_ as the chords of ideas took to each other, how they connected and intertwined, pushing a rush of panic pulsing up and down her body. It felt like she was being electrocuted, and then shoved underwater. Her chest was roiling in a strange way she’d only felt once before, when the weight of living had crushed her underneath it’s foot —

“He’s… been meeting with _Sirius?”_ she rasped.

Damon pushed the Map towards her, watching her expression carefully. “See for yourself.”

She stared back at him, silently fuming, and also stunned. “You’ve _seen him with Sirius?”_

“Just today.” Damon was still looking at her in the infuriating cautious way, like he was expecting her to light their books on fire. “I took a peek right after every left for Hogsmeade.”

Ariel gaped. “Is he _mad?”_

“Will you just look already?”

“Fine!” she snapped, sliding the Map over to her and pressing her wand to it with far more force than necessary. “I solemnly swear I am up to no fucking good, unlike my brother!”

_Mr Prongs regrets to inform Miss Potter that her language is hurtful and rather unprecedented._

_Mr Moony agrees with Mr Prongs, and insists that she reconsider her words before she speaks._

_Mr Padfoot —_

“Oh, piss off!” Ariel snarled — Damon was wiping his smirk off his face with one hand. “I solemnly swear I’m up to no good!”

She unfolded the pages as the Map filled itself in, scanning the parchment for the Shrieking Shack. Ron and Hermione’s names were stationary just outside, like Damon had said Draco had described, and _inside_ of the Shrieking Shack were two _very_ familiar names.

“I’m going to kill him.” she said.

“That sounds unadvisable.” Damon offered.

Ariel’s eyes shot back up to him. “You should have told me the second you suspected.”

“I didn’t want to stir the pot.”

“Damon, this isn’t _stirring the fucking pot!”_ Ariel hissed. “For Merlin’s sake, this is… it’s…”

“Well, if he’s innocent, then he’s not in any _real_ danger.” Damon offered meekly.

“He’s _putting_ them _both_ at risk!”

“Which is _why_ I told you.” he said in a knowing voice. “Do what you will with this information, just don’t implicate _me.”_

“How very Slytherin of you.” _she was going to kill Harry when she got her hands on him._

“You’re not mad at me, are you?”

Ariel studied his face — it was glowing in an odd sort of way, like he was proud, but also very worried. She got the impression that were his hair longer, it would be hiding his face, like her father’s did.

“No, I’m not mad at you.” she said in a low voice. “I’m… angry at Harry. And Sirius. He’s… never left me out of the loop before. You know… he told me at the end of last term that… we didn’t know each other as well as we thought we did. I’ve been thinking lately that maybe he was right. Harry doesn’t know about Dad and I… and I _thought_ he wouldn’t go behind all of our backs like this.”

“I don’t think it’s deliberate.” Damon said, his eyes holding hers. “Imagine if your dad had been put in Azkaban for something he didn’t do. Would _you_ have enough restraint to stay away?”

“Sirius isn’t his dad.”

“He might’ve been, right? The same way Lupin could’ve been yours.”

Ariel shook her head at him. She didn’t like to think about that possibility. It made her head and heart hurt, like she was being slowly gutted. The _would have been_ and _could haves_ were poisonous.

“How’d he get out?” Ariel changed the subject, scowling back down at the Map. “Did he leave with the students?”

Damon shrugged. “I didn’t see. I just know where he ends up.”

“I guess I’ll wait for him, then.” she rose, pressing her wand back to the Map, saying the incantation before tucking it away in her robes. “You’re welcome to come and watch.”

“Nooo thank you.” He leaned away from her. “I’ll leave the fireworks to you.”

“I’m not going to blow up on him, Damon.” _Just throttle him._

“He’ll still be angry with me.”

“Suit yourself.”

Ariel wanted Damon to come — she wanted him to sit with her, but she could also tell that he was trying to give her some space. There was a tiny half-smile of his face that was very worried, but also, very sweet. It was like looking at a sunset and realizing you didn’t want the day to end.

“Thank you,” Ariel gave him a small peck on the cheek. “For always being on my side.”

She turned before she could catch a glimpse on his face — her lips felt strangle tingly, matching the sensation in her stomach.

There wasn’t much left once that feeling faded. Her conversation with Damon left Ariel feeling very alone, maybe more alone than she’d ever felt before. There had been those holes in her childhood, when Severus had pulled away because of his own pain and grief, where Ariel had imagined herself with Harry and how happy they might’ve been. She wondered if this was how Harry felt when he’d found out that her father had kept them apart all those years. That was a different kind of hurt, though… that was hunger and longing. _This_ was betrayal and secrets and lies… Harry had never lied to her before. She couldn’t go to Severus and tell him… couldn’t even try Remus…

Was this why Harry had gone to Sirius? Did he feel alone? Ariel knew that Severus could be… _prickly,_ but after this summer…

Damon had asked if she’d risk it to see Severus, had he been imprisoned, and the answer was yes, of course she would have. Who was Ariel to tell Harry he couldn’t see his godfather?

_(why hadn’t he TOLD HER)_

She sank against the wall in front of the Slytherin common room to wait for Harry when he came back. The students usually arrived before dinner with McGonagall and whoever else was chaperoning. Lupin had volunteered for this particular weekend, which was why they hadn’t had Patronus lessons. Her father never went — Dumbledore had tried to coerce him, and Severus had nearly broken a chair.

Ariel looked as the minutes dolloped on by — she suddenly had the feeling that she wasn’t alone.

There was no greeting, only the rustle of black robes prodding at her knees. When Ariel looked up, her father was gazing down at her with a half-annoyed, half-bored expression on his face. They simply stared at each other for a moment until Severus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I believe this constitutes as stalking, in some capacity.” he said. _“Must_ you wait for Harry like this?”

“Yes.” Ariel replied flatly.

His eyes narrowed immediately at her tone. “Don’t tell me the two of you are quarreling again.”

“Not yet.” she said under her breath.

_“What?”_

“No, we haven’t had a row.” Ariel sighed, wanting to be alone, but Harry was lying to her and _she_ was lying to her dad _and_ Harry —

“Then why do you look like you’re ready to pounce the second he arrives?”

“Maybe I’m just in a bad mood.”

His jaw clenched. _“Maybe_ you should reconsider your tone before I _correct it for you.”_

Ariel leaned away, biting her lip to keep from screaming. She didn’t know what would come out of her mouth if she responded to him, and didn’t want to find out. 

“I don’t know what’s put you in such a foul mood,” Her father snapped. “but I don’t appreciate it.”

The acid building in the back of her throat fizzled away. “I just want to be alone right now.”

The lines in his face were biting, but his eyes were something else. They looked her over top to bottom, and his hand placed itself atop her head. “If something is bothering you, I would hope you’d have enough sense to tell me instead of bottling it up.”

Her chest _burned._ “It’s… nothing.”

The hand disappeared. “Don’t lie to me.”

“M’not lying.” _liar liar liar._ “I’m just… figuring stuff out.”

“Is it those miserable lessons with the — with _Lupin?”_

Ariel bit the inside of her cheek. “Sure.”

He growled. _“Ariel.”_

She was about let her fist meet the wall when the chatter of students filled the corridor. Her father’s expression soured faster than Mrs Norris on the hunt for a kid out of bed, but Ariel visibly tensed. They were back from Hogsmeade, which meant that Harry was too.

“If you plan on spending the night in our quarters,” Severus said, his dark eyes flicking to the end of the corridor. “I suggest you sort yourself out, because I won’t be entertaining this… obtuseness.”

“Will do.” Ariel muttered.

Her father snarled down at her and stalked down the hall, the blackness swallowing him whole. Ariel stared at it, trying to make out different shades, but it made her feel like her eyes were crossing. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she felt bad for being so cold to Severus, but if she’d tried being normal, she would have become a puddle.

Small groups of Slytherins made their way back to the dormitory, most of the chattering excitedly, their cheeks rosy and chests heaving. Ariel noted that Pansy gave her a particularly nasty look as she waltzed inside with Draco — none of them acknowledged her. It wasn’t anything unusual for Ariel to be sitting outside, waiting for Harry, but that didn’t mean the Slytherins _liked_ it.

He was the last to arrive, it seemed, his unruly hair windswept and his eyes bright. She immediately stood, and his grin faded when he caught sight of the look on her face.

Ariel glared at him, and Harry frowned. “What is it? What’s happened?”

She kept glaring.

“Is it Severus?”

She bit her tongue — she could taste blood.

Harry sighed. “Okay, I give up. What’d I do? Or not do?”

“Have you gone and lost your damn mind?” Ariel ground out.

Harry looked around wildly. “What are you _talking_ about?”

“Sirius. _Black.”_ Ariel hissed. “You’ve been sneaking off to see him behind my back!”

He went pale, and then green, like he was going to be sick. After a minute, however, his fists balled at his side, and he took a deep, steadying breath.

“What about it?” Harry asked coolly.

Ariel opened her mouth to tell him what she’d seen, when something moved from behind Harry. She craned her head, and Harry turned, a look of puzzlement flickering over his face as he turned to look in the same direction.

Both of their expressions quickly morphed into ones of horror, when they saw that Severus had been standing behind the corner the entire time.

“Yes,” her father hissed. “What _about_ it?”


	74. Change in Pressure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Quoting a few lines of canon here and there throughout this chapter…

The instinct to run blared in her mind like a siren gone haywire.

Her father stood before them in the middle of the darkened corridor, which seemed to be getting darker by the second, his face dimly lit by the flickering torch lights of the dungeons. Ariel could make out his bared teeth and glittering eyes, like he wanted to rip the air in front of him into pieces.

Harry swallowed. “Yes, Ariel, what _were_ you going to say?”

Ariel shot him an incredulous glare – they were only here because _he’d_ been sneaking off to see Sirius Black after Remus had specifically told them _not_ to. _She_ wasn’t getting them out of this mess.

Harry gave her a disbelieving look right back, and her father’s fists went _crack._

“Don’t you dare deflect.” Severus snapped. “One of you had better tell me what you know about Black, and you had better say it now, or so help me, I will take you _both_ to the Headmaster’s office and _he_ will aid me in decoding whatever little game this is. I _know_ the two of you aren’t tell me something. _Speak!”_

Harry looked at Ariel again, and she stared back. She was desperately trying to think of something that would cause her father to deflate a bit, but as the seconds dragged by, he only seemed to become angrier and angrier. As Ariel played back the two sentences she and Harry had exchanged, she realized just _how_ incriminating they sounded. They’d set themselves up for slaughter.

Ariel slowly let her hands slide behind her back, the parchment on the Map crinkling the loudest sound she’d ever heard.

Her father’s eyes flickered to it, a command on his lips just as Harry came to the rescue.

“It’s not what it looks like.” He said weakly, his green eyes trained on Ariel. She didn’t know what to say anymore — she was so tired of covering things up, tired of guessing if those closest to her were too.

“Not what it looks like?” Severus repeated back in a dangerous voice. “No — you’re absolutely right, Harry. It _looks_ like you’re both aiding an escaped murderer, so I expect an explanation dispelling _that_ ludicrous idea away.”

Harry’s mouth clamped shut, the Invisibility Cloak in his hands slowly disappearing behind his back, like the Map had behind Ariel’s. Severus stared at him, like Harry _was_ speaking, admitting everything bluntly, only he wasn’t. None of them were speaking, so the silence spoke instead.

“What – is – going – _on?”_ Her father snarled.

Ariel winced. “Can we… not do this… _here?”_

Severus’ thin nostrils flared, and with another reluctant snarl, he grabbed Harry with one hand, Ariel in the other, and began to tow them towards his office.

Harry leaned back as they were unceremoniously pulled forward, giving Ariel a wide, panicked look behind her father’s back. Severus didn’t seem to notice, and if he did, he didn’t make it known. That scary, twisted rage kept flashing on and off his face, like there were cracks in his Occlumency. Severus hadn’t looked that way since the Boggart – he’d been much better in terms of his temper since then, and even though things were looking _very_ bad right now, Ariel could tell he was trying not to break that streak.

It warmed her heart, even if it felt like it was going to shatter with every beat. It was like something was locked away inside, and every time it thrummed, the secret was trying to break free. Ariel couldn’t think – there was too much rattling around inside her head. She’d never been very good at lying. Severus had known for _months_ there was something they’d left out when Sirius had met them in the Forest a month and a half ago, and he’d just heard her admit that…

Ariel returned the panic-induced look to Harry. She couldn’t let her father get an innocent man killed (or kill him himself). Sirius may want Severus dead as much as Severus wanted _him_ dead, but Ariel wasn’t about to let either happen.

_Let me have the one person who cares about me!_

She fervently hoped that Remus would decide to drop in. Or Dumbledore. Or _anyone,_ really. Even Filch sounded more appealing than the interrogation they were undoubtedly about to endure. Ariel didn’t _want_ to lie anymore. There were too many, too many to Severus, to Harry, to herself. How could she keep Sirius safe while also doing the same for her dad, and remaining loyal to Harry and Remus?

That was easy to answer – Ariel couldn’t. She wondered if this was how Harry felt during his first year, when she’d finally told him that Severus was afraid Harry was going to turn her against him. It was a far more ridiculous scenario, and untrue in every aspect of the word, but Ariel could identify with the feeling now. It quite literally felt like she was pulling torn in half, even if the argument was more heavily weighted. Sirius, Remus, and Harry on one side, Severus on the other…

She could lie her way out of this, but that would just dig the hole deeper, and, quite honestly, how _could_ she explain away the two little words her father had heard? The only way to explain away Sirius Black was to admit that she knew something _about_ Sirius Black…

After Severus had corralled them inside his office, he swooped around to the front of his desk, gripping the ends tightly with his palms. He glared expectantly at the two empty chairs in front of him, and without a word, both Ariel and Harry sat down. Her brother was staring defiantly up at Severus, which was quite impressive, seeing as her father’s glare would probably take off Remus’ head if he were here. Ariel lowered her eyes to the floor and began to trace the pattern of the rug with her gaze. The candlelight was dim, and strained against her eyes.

“Where were you today, Harry?” Severus asked in a soft voice, like velvet with something slithering underneath. It gave Ariel goosebumps.

Harry stared back calmly. “The Quidditch pitch.”

“Were you now?” Her father leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly in front of him. “That’s just _fascinating.”_

When he didn’t elaborate, Ariel and Harry shared a confused look. She wondered if this was how a mouse felt when a hawk was circling its prey from up above, unknowing and tense with the instinct that something very bad was about to happen.

His eyes swept to Ariel. “Hand over that parchment you were trying to hide before.”

Her chest seized. “What? Why? It’s just a spare bit of parchment.”

“Then you’ll have no problem letting me see it.”

Ariel hesitated, and then, slowly slid the Map across the desk. Severus accepted it with the tip of his index finger, his eyes lingering on her before glittering down at the parchment. Harry glared mutinously at her. She tried to apologize with her eyes – _she_ hadn’t swiped it, after all, but he didn’t know that.

“What is it?” her father asked after a long moment. He hadn’t done anything – he was simply staring at the Map like it was about to spit flames back at him.

Ariel shrugged. “I’ve just been carrying it around – I was studying before.”

Severus turned it over, his eyes on Harry now. “Then surely you don’t need such a very _old_ piece of parchment? Why don’t I just… throw this away?”

“No!” Harry leapt up, his eyes desperate. “Don’t!”

Her father face darkened. “You’re using this to sneak to Hogsmeade, aren’t you?”

“I haven’t –”

“Do not _lie to me,_ Harry.” Severus rose from his seat, and Harry fell back into his. “What is it, then? A letter written in invisible ink? Instructions on how to get past the Dementors?”

Harry gazed back evenly, his green eyes hard, like they were emeralds chiseled from stone. Ariel opened her mouth to insist that it wasn’t, but stopped when her brother sighed heavily instead.

“It belonged to our dad, okay?” He said quietly. “Please, don’t do anything to it.”

A funny sort of expression flooded over her father’s face. It was a combination of several different emotions, each of them only lingering for a second before they were replaced with the next. Ariel could only catch small glimpses – there was menace there, and a touch of empathy that made her hands very cold.

“And _how,”_ Severus rasped. “did it come into your possession? The Headmaster?”

“No,” Ariel spoke up, straightening her back for the blowback she was undoubtedly about to receive. “Fred and George gave it to me. They swiped it from Filch’s office during detention one night, I guess. Remus saw Harry with it and recognized it.”

His eyes narrowed at her. “Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“I didn’t know it was dad’s until recently.”

Severus flinched – he’d always done that when Ariel called James that. He turned his glittering eyes back to the Map, unsheathing his wand from his robes.

“Please!” Harry stood up again, begging. “Please, Severus, don’t do anything to it, _please –”_

“Calm down.” Her father snapped, tapping his wand to the parchment. “Reveal your secrets!”

Ariel held her breath – Harry went very still. She could tell he was clenching his fists to keep himself from shaking.

Nothing happened. Severus growled, and tapped the Map sharply again. “Show yourself!”

It stayed blank. Harry slowly lowered himself back into his seat. Ariel sucked in a deep, unsteady breath of air.

“Severus Snape, master of this school, commands you to yield the information you conceal!”

And then, as though an invisible hand were writing across the parchment, words began to appear. Ariel’s heart jumped up to her throat.

_Mr Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people’s business._

Severus went very still, his eyes fixated on the Map’s jeering words. Ariel groaned and covered her face with her hands. Harry looked absolutely stunned, but it seemed the Map wasn’t done –

_Mr Prongs agrees with Mr Moony and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git._

_Mr Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that even became a professor._

_Mr Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball._

Ariel stared, mortified and revolted. She scowled at the parchment, and then at Harry, because it was wiped clean off of her face by the rivalry of her father’s own.

“Who the sodding fuck is _Prongs?”_ Severus asked them in a very dangerous voice.

Harry winced. “That would be… dad. Severus, I’m sorry, I had no idea it would –”

 _“Well_ then,” Severus hissed. “this was most definitely Potter’s parchment. And I can only begin to venture who the _other_ three are.”

Ariel and Harry swallowed simultaneously, looking at each other from the corner of their eyes. She didn’t really object to Severus burning the Map after what it had just said to him, but also knew that Harry would be heartbroken if he did. Even if her father simply _confiscated_ it, Harry would be upset.

Well, now Ariel knew why Remus had warned them to keep it out of Severus’ sights. She wished he’d given them some sort of a heads up.

“I’m going to ask you again,” Severus said after a long, painful pause, throwing down the Map. “where were you today, Harry?”

“Why aren’t you asking Ariel that?” Harry shot back, a hint of irritation finally leaking into his voice. “We’ve both been in the castle all day! Where else would we be?”

“Because I know for a _fact_ where your sister been,” Severus replied smoothly. “and I know where you have _not.”_

Ariel raised at eyebrow at this. “Were you spying on me?”

“I have a Tracking Charm on you.” Severus waved her away, his eyes never leaving Harry’s.

Her jaw dropped. “You _what?”_

“I already told you where I was.” Harry said in a controlled voice – Severus seemed completely uninterested in the fact that Ariel had gone as red as her hair.

She gripped both sides of her chair and tried to swallow the scream building up in the back of her throat. It was clawing away at the sides, like it a wild, desperate need to free itself. She’d believed that he’d stopped the controlling, the watching, the waiting. Granted, Ariel knew that however twisted it had become, that it was coming from a place of caring, but it felt like she’d taken a bludger to the chest.

 _It’s a good thing Harry_ didn’t _tell you,_ her conscience laughed. _if you’d gone with him, Severus would’ve followed and then…_

“Wait, _wait.”_ Ariel held up her hand before Severus could begin his cross-examination, and rounded on her father. “A _Tracking Charm?”_

“Did you really think I was going to let you out of my sight again after what had happened?” He looked very bored by the subject, like he’d already gone over this and was simply repeating himself.

“So why didn’t you put one on _him?”_ She shouted, pointing at Harry.

“I didn’t have enough time to do so.” Severus said – she was stunned by the honest reply before the anger flared back up. Was _everyone_ conspiring something without her?

“Although,” he turned his attention back to Harry, his eyes twitching. “I was foolish not to make a point to, seeing as your brother has been sneaking out to Hogsmeade when he does not have _permission_ to be there.”

Harry pretended to look surprised – it was very good acting, Ariel had to admit. “You think I’m going to _Hogsmeade?”_

Severus’ lip curled. “I _know_ that’s what you’re doing. I had an idea after last weekend, when you expressly told me that you’d be with Lupin, but Lupin was _ill.”_

Her brother paled, but maintained his composure. He seemed to be having a row with his body, which kept contracting. “I didn’t know _Remus_ was sick until I went to his office.”

“He would have told you before you went to see him.”

Harry blinked. “Is that a fact?”

“As a matter of fact, it is.” Severus bit out. “This game is decreasing in its cuteness, so I suggest you stop double-talking before my patience runs out.”

“So what do you think I’m doing in Hogsmeade?” Harry demanded, a hint of smugness in his voice. “Raiding Honeydukes?”

“I think you’re sneaking off to meet Sirius Black.” Severus said, very matter-of-factly. It would’ve sounded very frank – which wasn’t very like Severus anyway – if he hadn’t proclaimed his suspicions like he was throwing daggers.

All of the color drained for Harry’s face, but his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What would Sirius Black be doing in Hogsmeade?”

“Do _not,”_ Severus forced through gritted teeth. “insult my _intelligence,_ Harry Potter. You’ve made it _abundantly_ clear that you believed whatever little story he spun for you last month.”

He didn’t respond to that – it looked like her brother was trying to bite back something scathing, which confused Ariel – he looked like a bird who’d just had his wings cut. Couldn’t he see that, while Severus might be wrong, he was only doing what he thought would protect them both?

_Imagine if your dad had been put in Azkaban for something he didn’t do_

_Would you have enough restraint to stay away_

_He might’ve been, right?_

“Harry,” her father lowered his voice. “listen to me, child. You are being taken advantage of.”

“I’m not an idiot!”

“I never said you were.” Severus said softly. “Black is waiting for you to bring your sister. He’s been asking for her, hasn’t he? You’ve refused – he won’t reveal his true intentions until he has the both of you, Harry.”

“He’s been asking for her because he’s _worried!”_ Harry inclined himself forward, both hands gripping both sides of his chair tightly – Ariel could send his muscles straining.

Her father went very still, the indirect confession hanging in the air, like it mad materialized into a person and was looming in their midst. His eyes were the only thing that seemed to change as the seconds dragged by – they went from cold and emotionless to scorching coals, as though a fire had ignited, and his eyes were the window to the raging inferno.

“You need to tell me where Black is, Harry.” Said Severus. There was something bottomless about his voice that made the hairs on the back of Ariel’s neck stand up straight.

Harry’s jaw set. “No.”

Her father blinked, and then, his face ripped in two. _“No?”_

“You want to kill him.” Harry lifted his chin boldly. “I won’t let you.”

“And _I_ won’t let him have _either_ of you!” Severus rumbled – the manic, wild look in his eyes was burning bright, like he was someone else now. “I can’t prevent that – I can’t do _anything_ –”

“You can listen.” Said Harry. “You just won’t _listen._ Sirius didn’t betray Mum and Dad, Severus, he –”

“Dumbledore testified _against_ him!” he shouted suddenly, making them both jump. “You mean to tell me that _Pettigrew –_ the boy could barely Transfigure a doorknob to a dormouse!”

“Because Sirius was _framed –”_

“Why the hell would Pettigrew _frame_ Black, and then kill himself, Harry? That doesn’t make any _sense!_ Listen to yourself! You’re blinded by longing –”

That seemed to cancel out the last of Harry’s restraint. Ariel went to put a hand on his arm, but he was already standing, practically nose to nose with her father.

 _“You’re_ blinded by hatred.” Harry said. “There’s a difference, see.”

Severus’ face was wiped clean of his boiling anger – he looked stunned. He didn’t wear the look well, and Ariel took advantage of his momentary shock to pull Harry back. The tension in the air was suffocating her.

“Will you both stop it?” Ariel snapped. “You’re not supposed to be rowing with each _other,_ for Merlin’s sake. It’s Sirius Black – guilty or not guilty.”

Her father’s eyes shot to her.

“You haven’t been going,” he whispered in a voice that was so raw, her ears blistered. _“have you?”_

“No,” Ariel answered automatically. “I haven’t. I just found out.”

“Not an idiot now, am I?” Harry muttered from the chair, scowling.

“Do you know why your sister isn’t roasting my head on a stick right now?” Severus shouted at him. “Because she is _lying_ for your sake – she is _covering_ for you! I knew back when Black dragged you into the Forest to accuse me of mistreating you both, and I know it now, because if I were wrong, she would be the first one to tell me that!”

Ariel gawked, bewildered by his statement. “I’m not – I’m not _talking_ because you two seem just fine without me screaming alongside you both. I know you’re trying to keep us _safe,_ so yes, you’re right, that’s why I’m not ripping your head off for it.”

“Bollocks!” Severus snarled. “You were moping outside of the Slytherin common room because you were left out of what little _arrangement_ Black has lured Harry into!”

“Sirius hasn’t _lured_ me into anything!” Harry spat angrily before Ariel could counter that statement.

“If Harry believes Sirius is innocent,” Ariel stared him square in the eye. “then I trust his judgement on this. Whatever they’re doing has nothing to do with me, okay?”

Severus went purple — it was a color she’d never seen on him before, and didn’t think she wanted to ever see again. Ariel reached a hand for him, worried that he wasn’t breathing, but he grabbed her wrist instead and pinned her down with the force of his stare.

“That does not expedite the fact,” the scary-rage was beginning to leak into his face now. “that you are both _lying_ to me _right now_ about Harry’s weekend escapades.”

“I didn’t know anything about them.” Said Ariel truthfully.

“Indeed?” a thick eyebrow hit his forehead. “Then what were you planning on saying outside of the dormitories?”

“I wanted to know where he was all day.”

“Ariel Rose,” her father said in a low, dangerous voice. “you have ten seconds to tell me or so help me, I will go to the Auror office myself and have them _swarming_ this castle before dinner time.”

“You wouldn’t do that.” Ariel challenged, calling his bluff. _“You_ want to catch him because you think he killed Mum.”

He recoiled, like she’d just thrown a handful of flobberworms at her. She immediately felt terrible for bringing her mum up at all, but it seemed to have put out the flames. Severus’ face slowly smoothed over until it was worn, like they’d run him ragged.

“Ariel.” Severus said, his voice suddenly quiet. “Tell me.”

She blinked. “Tell you what? I already said I don’t _know_ anything.”

“You do.”

“I really don’t.”

“Ariel –”

“You want to know why I was waiting for Harry?” Ariel snapped. “I found out, okay? I found out the same did you did!”

“You know that’s not what I’m referring to right now.”

He raised his hand, and for a second, Ariel was quite sure her father was about to grab her in order to begin his interrogation on her _._ She gasped in surprise, her hand flying up to his forearm. Severus stiffened, his dark eyes glittering strangely – his free hand grazed her cheek. Ariel stared up at him uncomprehendingly, her hand sliding to his other hand, which placed itself on the other side of her face. She couldn’t talk – she felt nailed to the floor, asking him what he was trying to convey with her eyes, an exact copy of his.

She saw it – he _let_ her see it – that flash of utter helplessness, of terror, of something buried beneath all of the rage and panic. It was…

“Harry.” was all Ariel said when she could finally speak. Severus relinquished his hold on her as she turned to face her brother.

His eyes widened. “You’ve _got_ to be kidding me. What, you think because Severus cares about you and _only_ you anymore that that somehow justifies handing over an innocent man?”

Ariel’s throat tightened. “You know that’s not true.”

“He’s doing this because because he hates my dad!” Harry threw at her. “Sirius was his best mate – he thinks that the people he’s hated all this time are responsible for mum, but Sirius isn’t!”

“I am doing this,” her father hissed. “because if something happens to you because I couldn’t protect you from _yourselves,_ I could never forgive myself.”

Harry blinked up at him, dumbfounded. Ariel wanted to hit the both of them. Why couldn’t they just say what they meant and be done with it all?

“Harry, listen to me.” Ariel said, taking advantage of her brother’s silence. “Sirius can’t hide here forever —”

“He can hide as long as he’s being hunted!” he said in a loud voice, anger simmering around the edges.

“How are you supposed to help him, then?” Ariel threw up her hands in exasperation. “You’re putting the _both_ of you in danger, don’t you see that? You’re not supposed to be _anywhere near him!”_

“How _else_ am I going to help him?”

Ariel didn’t answer – she wanted to scream that _Remus_ was fully capable, but she couldn’t do that without incriminating him in front of her father, and something told her that if he went after Remus, things would not end well.

“Harry,” Ariel whispered before she could stop herself. “Please.”

He gritted his teeth. “No. I won’t betray him.”

“You changed the game – this _can’t_ go on. It’s too dangerous! What if the Dementors had seen you?”

“This isn’t a _game!”_ Harry shouted at her. “You don’t think I realize that?”

“This has gone too far already.” Ariel tried desperately. _“Please,_ if we take him to Professor Dumbledore —”

“NO!” Harry shouted. “We’re not handing him over!”

“We’re not _handing him over,_ we’ll witness for him —”

“He’s _fine_ as long as he stays as Padfoot!”

“As _what?”_ Severus’ voice cut through them like an arrow.

They both whirled around to find her father looking between the two of them, a calculating expression on his face. It occurred to Ariel then that he hadn’t spoken – he’d simply been listening. Harry’s chest was heaving up and down to the same rhythm Ariel’s heart was beating along to – a new meter of dread.

“As _Padfoot.”_ Severus repeated back, like he was testing the word. “That was one of the names on the Map – that was Black’s nickname, then?”

Neither of them so much as blinked. Ariel could practically see everything clicking together in Severus’ head.

“Padfoot,” said Severus. _“as_ Padfoot.”

He looked down at the Map, and then, back up at Ariel and Harry. His face was no longer calculating. It was a mask of horrible triumph – it lingered on the border of cruelty, but there was an elegant savagery to it, as if Severus had just realized something he had always somehow known.

“If Black is an _Animagus,”_ her father smiled viciously. “then that means _Lupin_ must have known.”

Ariel rushed forward and shook his arm. “Dad, please, listen to me —”

Severus grabbed her shoulder with his other hand. “Oh, I have. We’re going to go and listen to _Lupin,_ now.”

“Dad, please —”

“You _knew.”_ He snapped, a flash of something wild and real lighting up his dark eyes, like thunder cracking across a night sky. “You knew all this time and didn’t tell me. The _both_ of you — you jeopardized your safety to — Jesus _Christ,_ Ariel…”

“I wasn’t _mine_ I was worried about!” Ariel tried desperately, latching onto his arm. “It was _yours!_ If you went after him… if he came here —”

“You don’t lie to me!” Severus thundered. “I thought we understood that! I thought we were _past_ this!”

“I can lie to you,” she shot back evenly. “if it keeps you _safe._ That’s what our _contract_ says.”

She could have sworn he saw him hesitate – but then, the unmatchable, thunderous fury was back.

“We’re going,” her father whispered in a voice like winter. “to see Lupin.”

When Ariel looked back at Harry, he was staring at his hands like he’d done something irreversible.

* * *

 

Remus had been doing what he normally did on a Saturday afternoon – make tea and contemplating.

This had been something he’d always done when his mind felt cluttered, like an old broom closet. There wasn’t much to do on weekends, and so, instead of finding something to entertain himself, like most people usually did, Remus sat in an old chair he’d found on the third floor, courtesy of Minerva, and thought.

There was a lot to think about this particular weekend. Sirius was always at the forefront of his mind nowadays, which felt strange. Remus had spent the last twelve years trying to shove him somewhere dark and forgotten, and trying to drag him back up to the surface was more foreign than he’d anticipated. It wasn’t like Ariel and Harry, who had drifted in and out of his thoughts like flotsam from the ocean floor.

Now, unlike Sirius, Remus couldn’t seem to put them out of his mind. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, he supposed. Growing attached to those he’d hungered for wasn’t worrisome, he supposed. They were all Sirius talked about – probably thought about as well, but then again, what _else_ did he have? Azkaban hadn’t left him half-mad and hollow from the inside out. It had left him burning brighter, brighter than the same star in the sky. Hungry and patient – two emotions that did not sit well together, and had never sat well with Sirius.

The last time Remus had gone to visit him, which had been two nights ago, Sirius had asked about Harry and Ariel, like he always did, but Remus had noticed something new. There was a different pattern to his questions. At first, he’d asked Remus everything he knew about them both, drawing parallels and grinning fondly at the memories they were undoubtedly unearthing. James here and James there – dashes of Lily, though Remus had concluded _that_ was because Sirius and Lily had continually butted heads, and Harry looked like James. It had caused Remus to reflect – he compared Harry and Ariel to their parents yes, but it had been… out of comfort, he supposed. He found himself doing it with Harry, more than anything, but as the Patronus lessons continued, he now found himself looking at Harry’s expressions of frustration and thinking, _“that is pure, indignant Harry Potter.”_

Ariel was different. She looked like Lily, yes, but _her_ lexes were pure-Snape. She eyed everything critically, like she wanted it smashed under her foot if it wasn’t cooperating. The girl was her own worst enemy, really, when it came to the Patronus charm. Remus could see her hindering her own success – her thinking when thought was not needed. Any help he tried to offer only made her pull back further. When Sirius asked about her, Remus simply told him she was like her mother, but not because she _was._ He said it because the truth whispered in his ear, and if Sirius knew _that…_

Harry had James’ drive, and Lily’s heart. Albus had told him something akin to that when he’d found him nearly six months ago, working alone at the bar. Ariel was… Lily in nature, but Snape in truth. It was an unsettling revelation. Remus really did need to spend some more time alone with the girl.

All connections between Snape and his child, however, were erased when the door flew open, and Snape was suddenly standing in Remus’ doorway, doing a pretty damn impressive job of imitating a basilisk.

A wiry hand closed around his throat before Remus could even open his mouth. There was something pointed press against his jugular – Snape’s wand.

“Where – _is_ – he?”

Remus’ hand found his shoulder, letting his nails sink into it as he successfully shoved Snape away from him. He was just as thin, nothing but sinewy muscle in his arms, nor was he taller, but his condition _did_ afford him some advantages, strength being one of them.

“Dad, _stop!”_ a horrified voice was begging – Ariel. “Stop it!”

Snape took a step back, his wand still pointed at him. Remus leaned heavily against the chair, rubbing his neck as something warm pushed against his chest. Ariel was trying to squeeze in between their bodies to pry them apart. Remus reached for her, not wanting her in the middle of Snape and his target, but he beat him to it. His fingers grabbed her shoulder and roughly pulled her back, sending her stumbling to Harry’s side. They both looked scared out of their minds.

“Ariel,” Remus said in a slow, steady voice. “Harry, are you alright?”

“We’re fine.” Harry answered, but before Remus could inquire further, Snape blocked them from his view. He could see his face fully, now – there was something feverish in his thin face, like he’d been attacked and was anticipating a second wave. The light in his eyes glinted eerily.

Remus unconsciously reached for his own wand.

“Don’t talk to them.” Snape snarled viciously. “Don’t _look_ at them! You’ve known all the time – you wanted to keep them _safe?_ How was withholding the fact that Sirius Black is an Animagus keeping them _safe,_ Lupin?”

His mind wiped itself clean – there was nothing but a bright, brilliant light in his line of vision. It seemed to consume everything, including his heart-stopping horror.

“What?” Remus managed to strangle out.

 _You’re an idiot,_ Conscience supplied when Snape bared his teeth, like he was going to rip his throat out with them. Remus didn’t put it past him.  

“You’re a fucking liar.” Snape thundered, as though he’d heard Conscience and disagreed with it, even if it was insulting him as well. “All you’ve done is lie to everyone since you’ve set foot in this school.”

“I don’t know what you’re –”

“Your _godchildren_ do.” Snape spat. “Harry has been _sneaking off to see him!_ He’s been waltzing right into whatever shithole Black has made for himself – you swore to me you were here to protect them for Potter’s sake –”

The white light was back, only this time, it seemed to focus in one Harry… Harry, who’d waited for him up until a few weeks ago… Harry, who Sirius did not inquire about as much as he originally had… Harry, who had a Map and a Cloak… Harry, who had been distant from the girl and determined to master the Patronus charm –

Not for _his_ sake… but for the sake of another.

Remus was going to kill Sirius, if Snape and the Dementors didn’t first.

“I didn’t lie, Severus, I –”

“Lies by _omission_ – don’t play word games with me, werewolf!”

“Werewolf?” Ariel appeared from behind Snape. “You’re a werewolf?”

Snape shoved her back behind him, his black eyes endless – there was glee in there, somewhere. “We’re going to the Headmaster’s office.”

“Severus, listen to me.” Remus managed to grind out. “I’ve _seen_ Sirius’ memories. Lily and James – they switched Secret Keepers. I _saw.”_

“Fuck off and die, Lupin, that doesn’t mean anything!” Snape spat.

“Yes it does, Severus, you know that as well as I do. You _know_ he couldn’t have forged those memories.”

“Or perhaps he believes those delusions so deeply himself that he’s twisted them into his own reality.”

“Then why would he still be trying to kill Harry and Ariel?”

“I don’t pretend to know what a mind diseased by Azkaban formulates!” Snape sneered, the lines in his face harsh, pulling over his features tautly. He bent his head and low and then, in a quiet voice, said. “I told you what I’d do if I found out you weren’t doing _everything_ in your power to protect them. There’s nowhere for you to run away to now, so unless you’d like this to become extremely unpleasant, I suggest you tell me where Black is – _now.”_

He’d barely given him a chance to talk –

Remus said nothing.

“I could string you up here,” Snape leaned in so that only Remus could hear him. “but why be rash when I can watch you _squirm_ in front of Dumbledore?”

From behind Snape, Remus’ eyes flickered to Harry and Ariel. He was slowly throwing his Invisibility Cloak around his shoulders, his hand slowly closing over his sister’s wrist. Her eyes did not stray from hers until they disappeared entirely from sight, along with Harry, and where their hands entwined. Remus urged them with his eyes – go go _go –_

When Snape turned back, and found that no one was no longer there, Remus was quite sure he was staring into the face of Death itself.

* * *

 

“We’re in _so_ much trouble.” Ariel muttered. “Dad is going to _kill_ us.”

 _Kill_ may have been the understatement of the century, but Ariel didn’t think words really mattered much, in light of things. After all, they’d bolted from the seemingly safe haven of Severus’ watch and Hogwarts to go and warn the most wanted man in Britain that the school’s potions master was coming for his head. The Making Severus Mad scale was blinking red lights.

The Map was also something seriously underestimated by her – it had brought back some very unpleasant memories, watching something without a brain give intelligent directions, even if the persons imprinted on the Map were her dad, godfathers, respectively, and traitorous almost-uncle. Harry had led them up to a statue of a one-eyed witch that had scared her as a child, and then down into an earthy-smelling passageway that had led right into Honeydukes. Ariel didn’t even have time to stop and stare – they had to warn Sirius before Severus could get to him. She owed him _that,_ at least. Having her father livid with her was much better than Sirius ending up dead for a crime he didn’t commit.

“You know, I have the feeling that’s the last thing he’s concerned about right now.” Harry shot back.

“Oh shove off.” She snapped. “We’re running into the waiting arms of an alleged madman. I’m allowed to think about the repercussions a bit, yeah?”

“Should’ve thought of that before you went and blew our cover.”

 _“I_ didn’t blow anything –”

Harry snorted.

“ _You_ had to get all impatient. Remus _said_ he had a plan.”

He gave her a withering glare. Their footsteps crunching through the dead leaves leading up to the Shrieking Shack were the only sound, their breath leaving silvery wisps in the air in front of them. It reminded Ariel of the Patronus charm – she rolled her eyes at her imagination.

“There’s something you don’t know.” Harry said quietly. “There’s… new evidence.”

“New _what?”_ she looked over at him. His posture was urgent, but his eyes were apologetic.

“I… saw something that could help Sirius’ case.” He swallowed roughly. “We… we’ve been tracking it, but we haven’t had much luck…”

“What about Remus?” Ariel demanded, trying to ignore the heat in her belly. “What does he think of it?”

“He doesn’t know.” Harry shook his head. “We… this… _proof_ isn’t absolute… and if we told Remus, he’d know I was sneaking out to see him, and he would’ve stopped it…”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ll explain later. We need to warn Sirius first.”

Ariel had never been inside of the Shrieking Shack, and she wasn’t really looking forward to going _inside_ of it. Living with ghosts at Hogwarts hadn’t really warmed her up to the word _haunted_ yet. The halls creaked and shuddered as they stepped inside, like the house was breathing.

“Jesus,” Ariel muttered. “he _stays_ here? And you _come here?”_

“Yeah,” Harry said, relighting his wand. “Ron and Hermione keep watch.”

“Of course they do.”

“Watch your step,” Harry warned. “light up your wand, will you?”

“What if someone down in the village sees?”

“We’re not going to be here long enough for them to investigate, anyway.”

At the end of the hallway, there was a door that was practically hanging off of its hinges. Ariel glared disapprovingly – this was all setting up to end very badly, but Harry didn’t seem to have any qualms. He opened it without hesitation, and Ariel piled inside after him.

There was a dark shape pressed up against the dirtied windows – dark, but familiar.

“Harry?” Sirius rasped, looking a mixture of elated and concerned. “What’re you doing back here?”

He seemed… better off from when Ariel had last seen him. The circles under his eyes had filled in a bit, and he wasn’t as thin. He still looked like he needed a bath, though… or twenty.

“Sirius,” her brother breathed in relief, quickly walking over to him. “Sirius, you have to go – they know you’re here.”

“What? Who?” He scrambled to his feet, placing his hands gingerly on Harry’s shoulders. His eyes looked around frantically, like they’d brought the Dementors _with_ them, until they landed on Ariel.

“Er, hello.” Ariel toed the floor awkwardly. “You should er, listen to him.”

“Hello yourself.” Sirius smiled – or at least, it looked like a smile. “Long time no see, love.”

She leaned against the doorway. “Wonder why _that_ is.”

Sirius bent down to look Harry in the eye, his gaze lingering on her. “What happened, Harry? Where’s Remus?”

“He’s with Snape – he knows. He knows I’ve been coming to see you.”

 _“What?”_ His eyes sharpened into harpoons. “How?”

“Later,” Harry sent a look to the door. “we have to go – he can’t find you here.”

“So do you, then.” Sirius cupped his cheek with his hand – Ariel could see scars on it all the way from across the room. “The Dementors…”

“Dad would never bring the Dementors.” Ariel said strongly. “He knows we’re here.”

“Well I’m not leaving the two of you _alone.”_ Sirius said, standing. “Jesus, I already broke that promise once, I’m not doing it again.”

“You don’t understand,” Ariel surged forward, letting her hand touch his arm. “He’s not bringing the Dementors, but he’s not going to let you leave, either.”

“I can handle Snivellus.”

“Don’t call him that.” Ariel bristled.

“No,” said a cold voice from behind her. _“let him.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So Snape knows (part) of the truth by manipulating his daughter with dreaded Feelings, Remus is Damage Control, and Harry and Ariel are buckling down for the (?) showdown. #PrayForSirius
> 
> I am now going to bed to have nightmares about midterms. Enjoy, and please, it would be nice to wake up to some reviews. x


	75. Nox Aurumque

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank the giant monster blizzard that has engulfed the east coast of the states. I’ve had this chapter drafted for some time and decided “why not?”

Ariel didn’t know what happened first — Sirius grabbing her and shoving her behind him, or Remus stumbling in the room and nearly sending her father flying face first into the floor.

Either one, she supposed, was why Severus let out a string of very creative swears she’d never heard before — there was _werewolf,_ and _Lupin,_ and _Black_ mixed in with them. Ariel cringed, trying hard not to hold her hands over her ears. Her hand flew up to Sirius’ cloak — it reminded her of Remus’, which it probably was, since it wasn’t tattered like the rest of his clothes.

Severus whirled around, his hand reaching for Remus, undoubtedly to shove him to the ground or try and disarm him, but Remus caught his footing just in time and slipped over to the far wall. He looked around wildly for a second, his expression relaxing when he caught sight of Ariel and Harry huddled behind Sirius. Her father, however, fixed his eyes on Ariel, and his appearance morphed so that it looked like he was trying to rip himself in half.

Sirius wrapped each of his arms around Ariel and Harry — her nose smashed into his ribs. He _really_ did need a bath.

And then, as though they’d forgotten they’d had them, Remus and Severus raised their wands so quickly that they made an audible _swish_ sound through the air. Her father pointed his wand at Sirius, and Remus at her father, but Severus almost seemed to hesitate, his eyes twitching between Ariel and Harry. His face was like a shadow — demented and distorted in the moonlight. There was something about it — perhaps it was because it resembled the way he had looked at Tom in the Chamber — but Ariel felt like she was staring into the past.

No one said anything — Ariel gripped Sirius’ cloak tighter in her fingers, and Severus’ face contorted even more. Remus eyes flickered over to him, his wand still trained on her father. She couldn’t see Harry, smashed up against Sirius’ thin frame.

“Sirius,” Remus finally said in a calm voice, “let Ariel go to him.”

He looked wax like — not like how her father looked right now, but similar enough. Ariel recalled what her father had said — tried to picture someone as mild and seemingly gentle as Remus turning into a werewolf. It made her head hurt. He was the sanest one in the room, probably.

Sirius’ grip only tightened around them as he gave him a bewildered look, “Remus, tell me you’re fucking joking.”

_“Sirius.”_ Remus said with more force, his eyes trained on Severus’ wand. It was shooting out red sparks, eerily illuminating his twisted face.

“I’m not doing shit.” Sirius snapped.

“You’re not in a position to be saying that.” Remus motioned to his own wand.

“I may not have a wand, but I’d rather Snivellus do whatever it is than let them go _now.”_

“For God’s sake, Sirius —”

“Listen to you both — quarreling like an old married couple.” Her father sneered. “Nothing _has_ changed, has it? Lupin is still a spineless, blind follower, and Black is as thickheaded as ever.”

“Fuck off, Snivellus.” Sirius growled. “Go ahead, then — do it!”

_“Sirius —”_ Remus warned.

Severus’ wand was sparking and smoking now, his breathing labored like he’d just run a marathon. His teeth were bared, and his eyes were something Ariel would normally associate with a feral animal. They glinted in the wand light — cold and dark, like tunnels.

“Sirius, _please.”_ Remus said again, softer this time.

“It’s okay.” Ariel said softly, her dark eyes trained on her father. She squirmed out for under Sirius’ iron grip — he was staring at Remus incredulously — but soon recovered and shoved Ariel back behind him again.

Her father let out something that resembled a cross between a snarl and a yell. He surged forward, reaching for Ariel’s outstretched hand just as Sirius covered her with his cloak.

“No!” Harry cried in a panicked voice. “Don’t! Severus, _please!”_

“Enough,” Remus said in a very Not-Remus-like voice. “Sirius, let Ariel go — _now.”_

Sirius’ face changed into a pained expression, and Ariel crept out from behind him, giving his hand a squeeze before quickly walking over to Severus. Her father reached out and pulled her to him— Sirius snarled— so that Ariel was hidden beneath his cloak. Ariel wrapped her arms around his waist, hoping it would defuse some of the tension, but it didn’t. His hand was digging into her shoulder so deeply that she was sure it would leave bruises.

“And now the boy.” Severus hissed, long and drawn out, like a snake.

Ariel could see Harry now. Sirius was gripping his shoulder as hard as Severus was hers. He looked just as frightened, but oddly calm, like the fear was a secondary reaction.

“Over my dead fucking body.” Sirius snapped.

“I can gladly arrange that.” Her father gave a cruel smile, which looked more like the way a wolf bared its teeth, “Or should I let the Dementors do their job? They’re so _longing_ to see you.”

“No!” Harry tried to get around Sirius’ tall frame, “No, please you can’t!”

“I fucking dare you.” Sirius growled, “If you care about these kids so goddamn much, like they claim, you wouldn't dare call them while they're still here.”

“Dad,” Ariel tried to reassure him, “it’s alright, Sirius isn’t—”

Severus gave her a wild glare and a small shake, and Ariel clamped her mouth shut.

“Touch her like that again,” Sirius took a menacing step forward, “and it's going to be the last thing you do.”

“Enough, the both of you.” Remus crept away from the wall, “Severus, this isn't what you think.”

“Isn’t it?” His black eyes were trained on Sirius, “Though your word means little to me Lupin. I’ve been saying since the start of term that you couldn't be trusted.”

It was impossible to tell with face showed more hatred as Sirius and Severus stared each other down.

“Give me the boy.” her father said again.

“Go fuck yourself.” Sirius suggested instead. Harry gave him a half annoyed, half worried look. It reminded Ariel strongly of how Remus was staring at him. They seemed to be channeling each other — Ariel was too preoccupied with the hand digging into her skin, and her face full of buttons. Honestly, why _did_ her father wear so many?

“Severus, I’m fine.” Harry said in a very tired voice. It didn’t sound like him — it sounded like Harry was trying to appear older, which made Ariel frown. 

“Give me Harry, Black.” his voice was deadly — one drop and they’d probably all be dead.

“I’m not giving you shit.”

Severus’ grip tightened on his wand. Ariel sent a frantic look to Harry, and then Remus, who both seemed ready to move the second Sirius or her father did anything, though Severus seemed the more likely candidate at the moment.

“Dad,” Ariel tried to wriggle away so she could talk clearly — all she was getting right now was a mouthful of frock coat buttons. “you found us alive and still _here,_ so doesn’t that kind of shed light on the situation a bit?”

“It doesn’t prove anything.” her father growled. “He just wasn’t _quick_ enough.”

“I could’ve grabbed them whenever I wanted to, Snape.” Sirius jeered, though it wasn’t really a jeer, because it sounded too anxious, like he was regretting _not_ doing that.

Her father didn’t seem to like the sound of _that —_ his nostrils flared, like he was a bull preparing to charge, and at this, Ariel finally broke free of the confine of his one-arm hold, and stood directly in front of him. He grabbed the front of her robes, but before he could pull her back, she grabbed his wrist — the one pointing the wand at Sirius.

“You need to listen.” Ariel ordered, though her voice shook terribly. “You _need_ to _listen._ Please. For me. _Please.”_

Severus did not say anything — he inhaled raggedly, but his wand did not stray from its target. Ariel tried to do what he had done back in his quarters, and let him see her desperation, and how much she needed him to _not_ be the man Sirius expected him to be.

His eyes found an end — it was like he was slowly defrosting from the inside out. He touched her cheek. From the corner of Ariel’s eyes, she saw Sirius start towards them, but Remus held up his hand and gave him a warning glare.

“I want the boy by my side.”  Severus said without looking away from her. He lowered his wand.

Sirius’ jaw set. “No.”

“Sirius,” Remus said tiredly. “do as he says. Severus isn’t going to harm him — he’s trying to prevent the opposite, and having Ariel and Harry in the middle of whatever this is won’t help anyone. Let him stand with his sister.”

Her father’s eyes narrowed as he waited. Harry looked up at Sirius and gave a single, jerky nod. There was some sort of silent exchange between them, like the one Ariel and Severus had just had.

Ariel looked back at her brother, urging him with her eyes. Harry hesitated, and then, crossed the room in three long strides. Severus held out his hand and placed it on his shoulder, and kept it there. It didn’t look as distressed — it was a gesture of comfort. Ariel wondered if her father realized what he was doing.

“You have two minutes, and then I’m hauling both of your pathetic hides up to Dumbledore’s office, if the Dementors don’t sniff you out first.” Severus said — his voice was strained, like it pained to give them even _that_ much.

“Fair enough,” Remus said in a surprisingly pleasant voice.

Severus scowled at him with a look of utmost loathing.

“Why bother?” Sirius crossed his arms, his tone biting. “Harry’s told him — if he doesn’t believe it, he doesn’t fucking believe it.”

Remus gave him a long look — Ariel glanced up at her father. He was staring at Sirius like he was trying to find something he didn’t really believe was capable of being there. It made her skin prick.

“You’re referring to your alleged innocence?” Severus quirked an eyebrow, his tone obnoxiously condescending. “Yes, it did sound like the usual crock of shit I’d normally associate with you, but please, if it helps you any, do _tell.”_

Sirius looked to Remus. “You see? He doesn’t fucking care, Moony. He’s useless. I’m not going to stand here and _beg_ him to believe it.”

“Is that all, then?” Her father’s wand arm twitched.

Harry leaped forward, his hands clasping around Severus arm, looking urgently to Sirius. “Tell him about Pettigrew — back in the Forest, you didn’t tell me much, but now that he’s here, you can tell him everything.”

Sirius reluctantly turned back to her father, and sighed heavily. “Peter was the Potter’s Secret Keeper… we switched without telling Dumbledore, or Remus, or anyone else in the Order. He was a rat — that’s how he got away.”

“So I’ve heard.” said Severus flatly.

“No, you wanker, I mean an _actual_ rat.”

“You mean _he_ was an Animagus?” her father asked, something akin to disbelief spreading across his face. “For Merlin’s sake, were you _all_ illegal Animagi?”

“Wormtail,” said Harry, looking expectantly at Severus. “like the name on the Map, yeah?”

Severus made a face. “Peter Pettigrew was a worthless little shitbag — do you _really_ expect me to believe that Potter and Lily would’ve been so dimwitted as to entrust their lives and the lives of their children to the likes of _him?”_

“That was the beauty of it,” Sirius said, his voice splintered. “We thought… Voldemort would’ve never looked at him once and thought James and Lily could’ve… it was the perfect plan, hiding in plain sight.”

“And you never suspected him as the mole? How the fuck could that have just slipped past you all? If you _knew_ there was someone in the Order, why would you make _Pettigrew_ of _all people_ their Secret Keeper?”

“Because it was me,” Remus said, and Ariel could see how much that pained him. “they thought _I_ was the spy. Peter never could’ve turned James against Sirius… so he turned them against me. I was an easy target given my… condition.” 

Ariel felt her chest tighten. Remus looked shaken, as if this information had just been revealed and the accusation was still raw. She wondered if her mum had believed that… she’d made him her godfather, after all. Had they drifted apart? Had she believed whatever it was Pettigrew had told them about Remus? That didn’t seem like something Lily would do… not from what her father had shown her, anyway.

“So why then, Black,” Severus asked, as if he already knew the answer but enjoyed dangling it over him. “did you spend twelve years in Azkaban for a crime you did not commit, only to escape _now?”_

She tensed — she despised this particular point. It made her want to pour bleach inside her head and wipe the thought away. It was what _everyone_ expected… what Damon had first assumed when he’d approached her their first year… she’d even heard students tsk tsk when they saw Severus with her as a kid — _poor Ariel Potter being babysat by Snape; he probably makes her scrub his floors —_

“Sirius —” Remus started again (it seemed to be his word for the night), but Sirius wasn’t having any of that anymore, apparently.

“No, Remus — I’ll fucking answer that.” Sirius squared his chin. “I escaped to pry your greasy fucking Death Eater claws off my godkids.”

The silence was deafening. Ariel could hear her heartbeat in her ears. There was something else too, though. It was an overwhelming sensation, like she was falling, but when she hit the ground, it cracked in two. Everything was rushing at her at once — the ripping look of pain, and revulsion, in her dad’s eyes, the sad, dejected sigh from Harry.

“Oh _really?”_ her father said in a very scary voice.

Remus closed his eyes.

“Sirius, I already explained this to you.” Harry stepped forward, looking very put upon, and very awkward. “This isn’t… Severus has never —”

“Let's hear _him_ say it.” Sirius challenged. “Really — I’d love to hear this.”

“Sirius,” Harry tried again, “Severus isn't… he's…”

“He’s a good for nothing Death Eater.” Sirius spat, “Just like we always said. Snivellus, little greaseball creep, an aspiring slave to Lord _fucking_ Voldemort, grew up to be _just_ that.”

“It’s — _not —_ true.” Ariel said loudly.

All eyes in the room landed on her. She half expected her father to say something, but he didn’t. His eyes glittered down at her in a new, strange way, as though he wanted her to continue.

“Look,” she lowered her head, but made sure she was keeping her gaze level with Sirius. “The entire situation sounds ridiculous, I get it. It’s complicated and messy and I hate it as much as the rest of us do. We were supposed to be family, and we weren’t. I gave you a chance to speak, and now I’m speaking for myself. Severus is my dad, and he gets to _keep_ that title because he raised me, and I love him for it. He’s never laid a finger on me, and so you don’t get to lay a finger on _him.”_

Harry was wearing a relieved half-smirk on his face — probably because he hadn’t had to say of that himself, though, Ariel felt something nestle underneath her heart at the fact that he _had_ defended that aspect of Severus to Sirius during their secret meetings. Remus was staring at Sirius with an expression couldn’t read — it was telling, but not telling enough, like he had foreseen this conversation and was very relieved it had finally happened.

Sirius looked as hollow and empty as the spaces between the stars.

“Alright, Red.” Sirius said. “Calm down…”

“The _fuck_ did you just call her?” Severus barked.

“Lucius Malfoy is a lying bastard that tried to kill me and Harry last year.” she said over the last of his words. “Fuck him, and whatever he said, because it’s not true.”

Ariel didn’t feel too bad for swearing, seeing as her father had probably broken some kind of record within the past few hours. It felt weird, like she’d taken a shot of caffeine or something. Her father didn’t seem to object — he was looking at Sirius with a _“let’s see what you’re going to say to the girl_ now, _fucker.”_

“You don’t mean that.” Sirius said quietly.

“Then what _do_ I mean?” Ariel asked coolly.

He didn’t answer. He looked away — there was a flash of something in his hollow eyes that felt like Ariel had been punched in the gut. She hadn’t meant to _hurt_ him, but she didn’t want Severus hurt, either.

“I warned you, Padfoot…” Remus muttered.

“Shut up, Remus.” Sirius said under his breath. He was glaring mutinously at her father again — the angry spark had been lit again.

“Bet you didn’t foresee _that_ little plot hole, did you Black?” Severus sneered triumphantly.

“Get fucked, Snape.” Sirius said aggressively. “She’s not yours anyway.”

“Said the man trying to murder his own godchildren.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure you’d _love_ to believe _that.”_ Sirius yelled, the muscles in his face clenching.

“Oh, I can.” Severus said with a vicious edge to his voice. “Manipulating children — trying to prey on weaknesses you _assume_ would be there in order to make your mission easier?”

“I didn't escape Azkaban to _kill_ them, you fucking bastard.” Sirius roared, “I came to save them from _you!”_

Severus had gone white with anger, “You're telling me that you escaped prison, risked losing your soul to the Dementors, because you thought I had nothing better to do than torture Potter’s children?”

Remus rubbed at his eyes, like the words out loud had somehow caused secondhand embarrassment. Sirius didn’t seem to care.

“How the sodding fuck did you even know I _had_ them?” Severus demanded.

“Lucius Malfoy.” Sirius sneered viciously. “He was telling Bellatrix —”

_“Bellatrix?”_ Severus looked like he’d been slapped.

“Yeah, Batty Bella — she’s got a kid here, doesn’t she?”

“What did he say to her?” Severus demanded instead of answering his question — Ariel was glad he hadn’t. “What were his words exactly?”

“He said… said you’d tricked Dumbledore into letting you have her… said you sang a song of redemption or some shit. He said Ariel was fucking miserable, and because Harry was in Slytherin, that he was under your thumb too.”

Ariel looked up at Severus. “Why… why would he say that? Did _you_ tell him those things?”

“You’re in _contact_ with him?” Sirius asked, horrified.

 Severus went very, very still.

“You fool.” He whispered.

“What?” Sirius demanded, though he appeared a bit uneasy at her father’s reaction. Ariel didn’t blame him. She put a hand on his arm, and he stared down at her, and then at Harry, like they were about to blow away with the wind.

“Severus?” Remus’ eyebrows furrowed. “What is it?”

 Her father pinched the bridge of his nose. He seemed to be trying with all his might not to bury his face in his hands. “I _put_ those memories there, you idiot.”

_“What?”_ Ariel, Sirius, and Harry all collectively gasped. Remus looked terribly confused, and yet, pensive.

“The sodding fuck is he talking about?” Sirius asked blankly, looking around them room. _“What_ spell?”

“I don’t have to explain anything to you!” her father spat. “I did what I had to in order to ensure their safety from the wiles of poorly executed murder-attempting narcissist.”

Ariel tugged on his cloak. “Is _that_ what you were doing to him on the rock?”

Severus turned the color of bad milk. “How do… _how —”_

“So let me get this fucking straight, Sniv,” Sirius took a step forward, and Severus recoiled, like he could smell him from where he was standing (which, he probably could, honestly). “you put some backwards shit in Malfoy’s head because — what? You like fucking with us, but not the Death Eaters?”

“It was to protect them.” Remus cleared his throat. “Right, Severus?”

“Fuck you,” her father threw at him. “don’t you dare try and make this better — you’re still a lying bastard.”

“Yes, that was it.” Ariel answered for him. “After… after the Chamber…”

“Chamber?” Sirius frowned.

“That’s not any of your concern.” her father snapped.

Sirius raised an eyebrow at Remus. “You can vouch on that?”

“Yes,” Remus looked at Ariel, and she nodded. “I can. Ariel told me everything.”

“Then whatever Lucius said,” Harry looked up at her father. “he... really believes that?”

“The spell I used makes those memories real for him, so yes.” Severus ground out, sending Remus a terrible look. “Well, now that we’ve cleared up that Black’s presence here is _completely_ unnecessary,” he whipped his wand back out. “I’d like to know inquire as to why, if we’re to still entertain this _fantasy,_ seeing as there’s no tangible _proof_ to go alongside it.”

“Wait!” Ariel tugged his arm down — that half-mad expression was creeping back into his face. “Harry, tell him what you were going to tell me on the way up here… about whatever it is you and Sirius have been doing?”

Severus turned his sharp gaze to her brother. “Whatever it is, I can only imagine the lengths to which Black’s mind had to stretch to conjure it.”

“He didn’t put the pieces together,” Harry said quietly. “I did. _I_ came to _him.”_

Ariel let out the breath she’d been holding in, keeping her hands around her father’s arm. He slowly lowered it, wrapping his other around her middle. When she sneaked a look over to Remus, she found him fuming silently at Sirius — he didn’t seem to notice because he was staring at Harry — but it hurt to look at, and yet, Ariel couldn’t look away until her brother spoke again.

“Pettigrew’s not dead.” said Harry.

Remus choked. Ariel felt her spine tingle, like a bucket of ice water had been dropped down it.

_“What?”_ she squeaked.

Her father froze. “What do you mean _not dead?”_

“As in _not_ blown up… as in… _not_ just a finger…”

“Good grief boy, I didn’t mean the literal definition!”

“Watch the way you talk to my godson!” Sirius snapped, and then, let out a string of curses that were very nearly as impressive as the ones Severus had used before.

“Peter Pettigrew is _dead,”_ Severus ignored him. “they found his _finger_ in that alleyway.”

“Didn’t know a finger meant _dead,_ Sniv.” Sirius growled.

“Black, shut the fuck up before I Hex your mouth off.”

“It’d be better Hexed off, seeing as _yours_ is shoved up your arse.”

Merlin, she’d never heard two people curse consecutively for this long. Or row this much. Ariel wondered if she left them here if they’d argue until dawn, or if they’d tucker themselves out.

“My god,” Remus finally intervened — Ariel could have hugged him. _“Both_ of you, for Merlin’s sake, shut up and let Harry speak.”

Harry gave him a grateful smirk — his eyes were bright, and for a moment, Ariel thought they might be the only source of light in the room. “I saw him on the Map one night a few weeks ago.”

_“What_ Map?” her father asked.

Ariel silently poked the parchment crushed in his fist. She winced as he released it — Harry looked like he was watching an injured comrade hobble home. Ariel tried to smooth out the parchment after her father handed it to her against her leg, and then held it up.

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” she whispered.

The Map began to write itself, and Ariel looked up at her father, wanting to watch his expression. It was deeply calculating, and still very angry, but it seemed to be spreading, not growing. He looked like he could cut someone’s throat with a quill – probably Sirius’. His eyes swept over the pages, his gaze landing on the name Ariel knew he’d looked for – _Albus Dumbledore,_ up in his tower.

“I don’t believe it.” her father said in a voice that said _“you’ve had this and I had no idea.”_

“I came to ask Sirius about it after I saw him.” Harry said, looking straight at Severus. “I thought maybe the Map was wrong… that they’d always show the Marauders since they’d made it… but I didn’t see Dad.”

“But the Map doesn’t lie, you see.” Sirius broke in, a new type of intensity in his face. It made the rings under his eyes darker. “What Harry saw was really there.”

“So where the sodding fuck is Pettigrew, then?” Severus asked in a strained voice. “Why are we having this conversation if he’s lurking about the castle?”

“He’s gone.” Sirius half sighed, half hissed.

“What do you mean _gone?_ You just fucking _said_ the Map doesn’t lie!” Ariel watched her father force his eyes to Remus. “Did _you_ know about this?”

He was still staring at Sirius with that simmering rage in his eyes and cheeks – he looked like a roaring inferno personified.

“No,” his voice was like claws on a windowpane. “I did not.”

“He must have fled the castle.” Sirius had noticed Remus’ demeanor and was watching him carefully. “When I told Harry that Wormtail had been a rat and was probably hiding here as one… realized that he’d _survived_ all these fucking years… Harry figured that Ron’s rat – Squabbles or whatever the fuck it was – was acting manic lately… we found blood on his sheets, and Harry brought them. It had his scent on it. He took off before we could catch him. We never got a chance to plan…”

Ariel felt like she’d been punched in the gut. Her father looked like he’d been stripped of his Occlumency – he looked absolutely stunned. Harry stared at them, his eyes begging Severus to believe, but he looked beside himself with bewilderment. There was something cold and hot traveling up and down here body, throbbing in perfect time with her pulse, like it was trying to crescendo until she imploded.

“Peter’s alive.” Remus said, and it sounded like he was about to start laughing to keep from screaming.

_Slytherin indeed,_ said that voice that mimicked Tom. _you’ll never be that clever._

 “And what was your plan?” her father asked softly. “Grab them and run afterwards?”

Sirius’ face darkened. “That was the original plan, yeah –”

“Do you believe him now?” Harry asked quickly. “Everything… it was Pettigrew, and he’s alive. If we can catch him somehow… we can prove Sirius is innocent.”

Severus cleared his throat. “What you’ve _told_ me, Harry, are _claims._ There is no physical _proof –_ you can’t show me Pettigrew, or give me an unbiased testimony that your parents changed their Secret Keeper. Dumbledore gave attested _himself_ against Black, and his is not a man easily fooled.”

“Remus save his memories,” Harry looked to him. “you can bring your Pensive for him, can’t you?”

“I’m not shoving my head in a Pensive while they kidnap you.” her father rolled his eyes. “Do I look daft?”

“As a matter of fact —” Sirius started.

“What about Legilimency?” Harry proposed swiftly. “You can use that, can’t you?”

Severus and Sirius looked at each other.

“I’m not fucking letting him inside my head.” Sirius said the exact same time Severus said. “I’m not looking inside his head when there’s nothing there in the first place.”

Harry gave Sirius an expectant look.

“Listen, kiddo,” Sirius narrowed his eyes at Severus. “I’d do a lot of things for you, but I’m not letting Snivellus inside my head.”

“It wouldn’t really be for _you.”_ Ariel spoke up, her voice surprisingly steady.

Her father smirked down at her – Remus quirked an eyebrow at Sirius.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” He said, his lip curling. “Well, I’m not doing it unless he swears not to go digging past what I fucking show him.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it – trust me, I don’t want to be inside your head any longer than you do.” Severus said calmly. Ariel was very nearly impressed with how well he was lying – he was probably doing it to _disapprove_ Sirius, but she had a feeling he wouldn’t find what he was looking for.

“You _will_ try though, won’t you?” Ariel asked him, leaning against his arm for emphasis. He blinked down at her, like he’d forgotten she was there, and placed his hand on top of her hand.

Sirius made a gagging sound.

Severus threw out his hand and grabbed his arm — Ariel was pretty sure he was drawing blood. She winced, inhaling deeply as she tried to calm herself. The cold air burned her nostrils.

“Resist,” her father hissed. “it’ll hurt more.”

“Not a chance,” Sirius shot back. “you’d probably get off on it later.”

Remus gave a heavily exaggerated eye roll and crossed the room, finally, to stand beside Harry. Ariel noticed him squeeze his shoulder, and then look over at her. _Are you okay,_ his amber eyes asked, but Ariel didn’t feel like giving him the answer just now.

_“Legilimens!”_ her father hissed.

The silence felt like it was dragging on for hours. Ariel wanted to look away, feeling a bit uncomfortable as she watched Sirius twitch every moment or so, and her father’s rabid, menacing gaze penetrating his mind. It felt like Ariel was imposing on a private moment somehow, but she couldn’t keep her eyes off of it, afraid that she’d miss something.

When it finally ended, they both gasped and backed away from each other so fast that they nearly fell over.

“You sat in a cell for twelve years,” her father said in a ragged voice. “to _mope?_ Jesus Christ, Black –”

“Says the Death Eater scum that should’ve been there instead of me.” Sirius bit out.

Before Ariel could snap at him to stop saying that, or for them to stop bloody _arguing,_ she felt a shiver of something that wasn’t cold brush against her back.

Harry’s eyes snapped to hers. “Do you –”

It was that awful, horrible cold, washing away everything else burning away in her chest. It was like there was a ring of water surrounding her, filling up to her neck, her ears, her nose…

Her father turned so quickly that his robes cracked through the air.

“The Dementors,” his eyes, sharper than arrows, went to Remus. “they must have sensed us all here – this area is restricted.”

Sirius cursed – Ariel wasn’t taken aback by it this time. He went straight to Harry, and then, turned back to her father. “You have to get them out of here.”

“No shit.” said her father, his eyes flickering to the doorway.

“So do you.” Remus hadn’t taken his own off of it. “Now, Sirius – before they get here.”

“I’m not leaving –”

“You will incriminate us _all_ if you’re seen here with us!” Severus snarled. “Get fucking _gone,_ Black!”

The ringing in Ariel’s ears became violent. There was a scabbed hand in the doorway, now, followed by a breath that sounded like bones rattling.

“GO!” Remus shouted, and Sirius took off, turning into Padfoot with a soft _pop_.

Her father’s arm wrapped around her waist, and he pulled Ariel behind him. Remus was doing to the same to Harry, except Harry had his wand out, and she didn’t. She grappled for her own – she could try, even though she hadn’t tried to conjure a Patronus since their first lessons with Remus… she could try…

_Not them, not my children, please, not my children!_

It was a faint whimper, but it was there. Ariel grabbed her father’s free hand.

_Stand aside you silly girl… stand aside…_

She tried to hone in on it – find the inner joy and make it her own again, but there were too many things happening inside and out. There was Pettigrew and Sirius and Harry hadn’t told her any of it… Harry, who was raising his wand and saying something Ariel wanted to, but she couldn’t find her voice.

_No please… take me instead_

Ariel couldn’t feel her dad’s hand anymore, but that was because –

The room blinded her, and then, the doe was standing in their midst again. That ethereal feeling was filling her up, chasing away everything she’d been thinking of, all of it, and there was nothing but the intense grief and joy battling inside her heart.

The last thing she saw was Harry’s hands reaching for the doe, like it was the only thing he wanted in the whole world.

* * *

 

As the white light slowly faded and Severus gathered his wits about him, he managed to break Harry’s fall before his head cracked against the wooden floorboards.

_I choose him, you can hate the both of us for it_

Stupid _bleeding_ Dementors –

They retreated faster than roaches when exposed to light, just as Black had. Severus hoped a diseased squirrel attacked him once he made it safety into the Forest. Innocent man or not, he was still a fucking moron for teaming up with a thirteen-year-old boy to try and hunt down a traitorous _rat_ and putting Lily’s children in this kind of position. He wondered if Potter were alive, if he’d be angry with Black, like Lupin seemed to be. Lily would have – she would have strung them all up by their toes for screaming at each other with no restraint in front of her children.

“Good Godric.” Lupin said once they could breathe again. “Did _you_ do that?”

“Obviously.” Severus snapped. “Did Black get away?”

“Yes… I believe so…”

“Splendid.” Severus said flatly. “And here we are to clean up his mess.”

Harry was a dead weight against him, Ariel sprawled across his legs. Lupin made no move to help either of them off of him, which Severus wouldn’t have minded much – he didn’t want the werewolf within a meter of him – but he couldn’t move.

“Don’t tell me you’re injured.” Severus groaned watching in horror as Lupin struggled to stand.

“No, no… just…” Lupin looked at Harry, and then Ariel. “Have you ever seen someone affected so badly? They went down like bricks…”

“I’m not fucking debating the effect Dementors have on emotionally damaged children in the middle of this godforsaken shack with you, wolf. Can you carry the boy?”

Lupin nodded, pulling himself to his feet before leaning down and gingerly hoisted Harry into his arms. He was stronger that he looked. Severus pulled Ariel to him – she looked much smaller unconscious. She was short for her age, but her personality made her seem bigger, at times. He grunted as he shifted her weight and hauled himself up. Severus fervently wished she’d wake up – he wanted her awake to keep him from snapping someone’s neck.

“We shouldn’t dawdle.” Lupin said – he deserved an award for stating the painfully obvious.

Severus said nothing as he swooped through the doorway the Dementors had fled through, Ariel securely in his arms. Her head fell into the crook of his neck, and Severus briefly tried to recall when the last time he’d carried her _consciously_ was. He couldn’t – it was a strange concept, that one day, he had put her down, only to never pick her up again.

_You’re trying to distract yourself,_ his inner-Hufflepuff snickered.

_From snapping Lupin’s neck, yes,_ said the Slytherin.

He wanted to kill him – Severus was quite sure he could, if he let Ariel go for even a brief second. She was the only thing keeping him from doing it. Lupin had looked him in the eye and sworn he was here to protect Lily’s children – carried with him a secret Severus had never wanted him to know, had never wanted anyone to know, not even Ariel, at one time.

Lies by omission, direct, _blatant_ lies. They were all the same, in Severus’ book, but he’d been _right all along_ and Dumbledore had _brought him here._ Black, innocent as he may be – that was not the fucking _point_ Lupin had known known _known_ what if he had been _wrong_ –

“Severus,” Lupin fell in stride with him as they reached the opening that led to the Whomping Willow. “I can’t begin to –”

“Do _not,”_ Severus forced through gritted teeth. _“talk to me.”_

“Severus, I –”

“So help me, Lupin, I will Hex you unconscious and leave you to the Dementors.”

He was smart enough to keep his mouth shut after that. Severus increased his pace, thankful that Lupin seemed to fall behind him a bit, though he didn’t like the fact that Harry wasn’t in his sights. He’d never trust them with Ariel or Harry again – Lupin had lost that right the second he’d gone to see Black, whenever that had been, and regardless of what had taken place.

They were crossing the grounds when Black found them again. Severus saw the dark shape creeping out of the trees and halted, thinking for a moment it was a lone Dementor, but was he heard the panting and saw the outline of an animal, he immediately turned on his heel and ignored him.

“Padfoot,” Lupin sighed. “go back to the Forest and wait for me there.”

There was a _POP!_

“Are they okay?” asked Black’s voice. Severus had never hated a sound more.

“What are you — turn back into a dog _RIGHT NOW!”_ Lupin shouted. It was the first time Severus had ever heard the werewolf raise his voice — it sounded like it hurt.

“Will you shut up?” Severus threw over his shoulder, his head throbbing – he didn’t dare look back. “There are _people_ here, mind you! Not to mention the fucking _Dementors_ we just escaped!”

“Piss off, Sniv,” Black said immediately. “I don’t give a flying fuck about —”

“Well _I_ do.” Lupin said sharply. “Dog — _now.”_

“Jesus, Remus, what is your _problem?”_

“The problem is not the problem.” Lupin snapped at him. “The problem is your _attitude_ about the problem.”

“Listen to your master, Black, and do something not entirely fueled by stupidity for once.” Severus called, delighting in the wild snarl he got in return. He heard another _pop,_ and then, something brushed against his legs.

Black-the-dog chomped at his heels.

“I’ll have you euthanized.” Severus threatened. “Don’t think I won’t.”

He growled, but lagged behind and presumably began walking beside Lupin instead.

Once they arrived back inside the sanctity of Hogwarts, Severus made a beeline for the infirmary, not bothering to make himself known as he gently laid Ariel down in a bed. She was as cold as ice, and her face clammy. Severus ran his hand through her hair, recalling his promise to her earlier that term that he would never let the Dementors close enough so that she’d have to hear her mother die again. He felt sick, though he didn’t know if that was due to his immense relief, or because he’d exhausted himself. He’d never run as fast as he had when he’d turned and saw them gone –

Black-the-dog leaped alongside Harry up as Lupin deposited the boy down and left, presumably to get Poppy.

“Get down!” Severus snapped at him. “You’re going to give him fleas.”

Black-the-dog made no indication that he planned on moving until the curtain drew back and Poppy bustled over. Black skulked over to Lupin, weaving in-between his legs.

She looked down at Black-the-dog. “What in Merlin’s name is _that?”_

“A rabid stray.” said Severus. “You don’t happen to have any fast acting poisons on hand, do you? It needs to be put out of its misery.”

Black snarled, baring his teeth. The hackles on the back of his neck stood up, but Severus just stared down at him, trying to look bored. He really wanted to kick him, but decided the physical strain it would take wasn’t worth it.

“They’re be fine, Severus – Remus has just told me what happened.” Poppy sighed, running her wand along the length of Harry’s temple. She hadn’t taken her eyes off of Black-the-dog. “And get that thing out of my infirmary – Merlin knows what it has.”

“That’s what I said.” Severus said flatly, glaring at Lupin. “Any ideas what should be done with it?”

“I think we should ask Albus.” Lupin replied mildly. Poppy looked between the two of them like they were speaking Mandarin.

“I agree.” he threaded his fingers through Ariel’s hair, lingering over her before looking at Poppy. “You’ll send for me if she awakens?”

She nodded, still appearing terribly confused, and with that, Severus left, feeling as though when he returned, he would find that something in the world had changed entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Well, told you we’d get back to the Lucius spell eventually ;) I also didn’t think I was going to be able to do what I wanted with PoA, but at like 2 am last night everything clicked, so we’re good to go (or rather I am, because I had no clue where this was going to go after this chapter, but we’re game).
> 
> If you could review that would be suPer AweSOme x


	76. Devil Take the Hindmost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry this is late friends. I’ve been teaching all week and I’m a lil dead.

The walk up to Albus’ office was dreadfully tense. Remus could feel it in his head and his bones, and in the air around him, as if deep within himself wasn’t bad enough. Snape looked ready to rip out the walls and bury them all alive, while Padfoot whined and kept close to Remus’ legs.

None of them said a word — not that Padfoot could anyway — and Remus was thankful for that. His emotional counterpoint felt like it had been torn to shreds and then scattered to the far corners of the Earth. There was jubilance and grief and rage, all of them so thick that it felt hard to breathe. It felt like tar was coating his lungs.

A weight had been lifted off of Remus’ shoulders, but something new was holding him down. Perhaps it was the look in Snape’s face, and how it felt like Remus was being hit with a brick every time he glared at him. Normally Snape’s naked hatred towards him hadn’t caused Remus to even blink, but now, it was the guilt that Snape had been right in a way, and Remus _had_ put those kids in danger, even though he was technically doing the right thing. He couldn’t brush it off like Sirius could, because Remus knew the real reason why Snape was so protective of Ariel and Harry. Snape had more of a right than either of them, in a sense, even though most of it was shrouded in darkness.

Peter being alive, though… why had Harry not come to him?

This thought bothered him more than it should have. Remus had been spending more time with the boy, granted, but he clearly didn’t know Harry as well as he’d liked to have believed. Sirius did, somehow… it reminded Remus oddly of how James and Sirius had once been, but Harry was not James. Harry was thirteen years old and yearning for the same thing Sirius was. _That_ was what Remus lacked — he longed, and wanted, but he knew how to mask it. Or perhaps it was an advantage. Lily had always told him that she admired his restraint, but he’d never understood why.

The difference there was that Sirius should have known better. They had _both_ deceived him —

_Lies by omission,_ Conscience rolled its eyes, _much like you when it comes to Sirius being an Animagus._

Remus stole a glance at Snape. He still looked like he wanted to slit someone's throat. Now was not the time for apologies. He wondered if this was how Ariel felt… though he supposed the dishonesty would be a bit more raw for her. Perhaps he could talk to her —

No — he sighed. Remus would be lucky if he even had a job by the time Snape was done telling Albus the information he’d withheld. Twelve years later and he was still not trusted with important information and taking the blame for it anyway. He deserved it, in a backwards sort of way, because he _did_ care about those kids…

Snape threw open Albus’ door with an unceremonious _BANG!_ It hit the far wall with so much force that the pins actually came undone. Padfoot jumped, and then looked up at Remus, rolling his doggy-eyes. He sighed down at him — this was not going to be pleasant, but any means. Snape was _already_ unfit for human consumption, but giving him ammunition made him… a new breed of git.

“Severus,” Albus greeted from behind his desk, completely unphased by Snape’s entrance, his blue eyes twinkling merrily. “Remus. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Your resident werewolf is a lying piece of shit.” Snape replied, each word like a nail being hammered into a wall. Remus actually winced — Padfoot growled.

If Albus was taken off guard, he didn’t make it known; he raised a silvery eyebrow at Remus. “I’ve known Remus almost as long I’ve known you, Severus, and I can’t say I’d use that terminology.”

Remus’ lips twitched — Padfoot gave a doggy laugh. Snape shot a look to the both of them that should have turned them both into scorch marks. Snape pointed at Sirius, and Padfoot snapped his jaws in his direction. Albus leaned over his desk to look down at him.

“Pardon me for being a bit slow,” Albus said politely. “But I must ask — to whom does the dog belong to?”

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake!” Snape snarled down at Padfoot. “Turn back into yourself, or I will do it _myself!”_

Padfoot tried to bite his pointer figure. Remus gave him a strongly disapproving look, but it was missed — Snape had drawn his wand.

“I’ll muzzle you.” Snape threatened. “Don’t think I won’t.”

Padfoot let out a string of feral barks. Remus gave Albus an apologetic grimace, but he didn’t appear bothered at all, only mildly interested.

“It seems that Severus isn’t very fond of your new companion.” Albus said. He sounded faintly amused by this.

Remus rubbed his forehead. “Padfoot, enough. Let’s get on with it.”

Padfoot gave a pitiful whine, wagging his tag up at him. Remus gave him another half-hearted glare, and with a soft _pop,_ Sirius was suddenly inhabiting the space beside him instead.

Albus blinked — it would have counted as a flinch, had it not been for the funny look that passed over his worn and weathered face.

“Oh my.” said Albus.

Sirius gave him sideways eye roll, while Snape bared his teeth.

“I — was — _right.”_ Snape sneered victoriously. “How many times did I warn you, Albus? How many times?”

“I stand corrected.” Albus said calmly. “Though, I doubt Sirius Black would be standing here in one piece if his guilt was being questioned by you, Severus.”

“If I may —” Remus held a hand.

“You may _not.”_ Snape snarled. “Black is standing here, because while he may not be guilty of betraying the Potters, he _is_ guilty of child endangerment.”

Both of Albus’ eyebrows hit his forehead. “Did you come to that discovery yourself, Severus?”

“Flattering.” he said flatly. “But no — Harry did, thanks to _them.”_ a gnarled finger pointed in both Remus and Sirius’ direction. “Lupin has been _deliberately_ holding back information —”

“I’m more interested in Sirius, at the moment, Severus.” Albus said over of him, the air of mild curiosity still hanging in place, but his eyes had changed color. They’d gone from a milky blue to startling bright, like Sirius’ presence had confirmed something inside his head, and this was his point of validation…

_Your friends have gone to heights many would not dare reach for, for fear that the footing is unstable —_

It took everything Remus had not to smile. He had suspected back then… but really, should he be _that_ surprised?

“Peter was the Potter’s Secret Keeper.” Sirius finally spoke for the first time since they’d entered the office. “He framed me — had us all fooled that he died in the explosion, but he didn’t. We should’ve told you that we switched, but we thought that hiding in plain sight would… be safer for the kids. We never imagined that Peter could…”

“What is important is that Peter has been masquerading as a pet in this castle for some time.” Remus interjected, earning himself a wild growl from Snape. “Sirius and Harry… they’ve been tracking him for the past month or so, but he’s just recently disappeared.”

“In his Animagus form?” Albus asked, his tone turning serious.

Sirius nodded. “Harry saw him… went and found me himself. We’ve been trying to catch him for the past couple of weeks. Peter’s been pretending to be someone’s pet.”

Remus leaned against one of the bookshelves lining the walls as Sirius delved into what had transpired twelve years ago, and within the past four months. Snape had retreated into the shadows on the opposite side of the room, looking bitter. He wondered if he was as mad about Ariel and Harry keeping secrets as he seemed to be, or if this was simply just the remnants of the grudge he held against Remus and Sirius. He supposed it was a hefty combination of both — he couldn’t blame him for the first thing. Remus didn’t know what it was like to be a parent, but he supposed Snape did, which was why he didn’t think it was his place to try and defend himself. Conscience had told him this was going to bite him in the arse when Snape found out, and Conscience was never wrong. Even if he’d help save Sirius’ life…

“So you never came forward due to the lack of evidence?” Albus asked once Sirius had finished.

He looked away. “Something like that.”

_“Wait,”_ Snape stepped forward towards Albus’ desk. “Why don’t you seem surprised by any of this?”

Albus blinked. “Harry _had_ brought up the prospect a few months ago. I would be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind.”

“You’re not even batting an eye at Black standing here… of Pettigrew…” Snape’s eyes narrowed. “Did you _know_ they were Animagi?”

Albus said nothing — Remus had to cover his hand with his mouth to keep from smirking as Snape turned the exact color of chalk.

“You _KNEW?”_ Severus roared, and before Remus could duck for cover, there was a flurry of black robes and Dumbledore’s silvery hair glinting off the candlelight.

“If you gentlemen would excuse Severus and I for a moment,” Albus gave an apologetic tilt of his head. He was standing in the doorway of what Remus presumed to be his quarters — or a closet. Snape was somewhere behind him.

“Get your FUCKING —” Snape was shouting, but the door shut, and Remus heard no more. He figured that Albus must’ve put up a Silencing spell of some kind. Or ten.

The floor was vibrating, though.

“I hope Dumbledore puts him in his place.” Sirius grumbled. “Fucking wanker.”

“You do realize you’ve been extraordinarily stupid, right?” Remus sank into the nearest chair. “Of _course_ he’s furious — _I’d_ be mad. I _am.”_

Sirius stared at him, like he was trying to decide which act of stupidity Remus was referring to. He tilted his head and gave him Don’t-Make-Me-Say-It eyes.

“We _couldn’t_ tell you, Moony.” Sirius sighed, sinking against the door. “Harry said Snivellus was already suspicious… that’s why he insisted that Ariel not know.”

“I could’ve _helped.”_ he shot him a withering glare. “Just like I could have twelve years ago, but you were all content with listening to _Peter_ about the _werewolf spy.”_

“Are you angry?” Sirius asked in a small voice — _Remus please I’m sorry Remus Remus Remus please…_

“Yes.”

“Don’t be mad at Harry… he’s… he was trying to help…”

“Of course I’m not mad at Harry.” Remus snapped. “I’m mad at the _adult_ that should have _known better.”_

“I didn’t go looking for Harry, Remus.” Sirius said, an edge to his voice Remus didn’t appreciated in the slightest. “He needed my help, and I wasn’t going to turn him away.”

“There’s a difference between turning away a child in need and putting him in direct _danger_ in the process!”

“We were safe in the Shack! The Dementors only found us tonight because of —”

“And what if they had found you and Harry?” Remus yelled, panic rising in his chest like a balloon. “You don’t have a sodding wand, and Harry is a _boy!_ You _both_ would have been defenseless… _think_ for once, Sirius! Think about what that would have done to Ariel!” 

Sirius actually staggered back, his face pale. That haunted, old look — the appearance of one who had watched their life go on without them in tow — was back, and Remus felt his chest burn with regret. He was a hypocrite for getting so angry… how far off had he been himself, withholding the fact that Sirius was an Animagus from everyone? Was what Sirius done so different? He’d hidden Harry’s visits from Remus to gain something he wanted, just like Remus had…

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Remus asked quietly. “If Peter was up in Gryffindor Tower…”

“That’s why I didn’t say anything.” Sirius shook his head. “Harry was safe in the Slytherin dorms —”

“And _Ariel?”_ he couldn’t help the way his voice rose. He had been so _careless,_ so _reckless,_ all because Sirius wanted what Sirius wanted… not bothering to think…

“Harry told me she stays with Snape.” Sirius made a face. “I didn’t like that much either, but it made… it easier to bear, I guess. Harry’s friend — the redhead — he agreed to bring Wormtail to the Shrieking Shack the next visit to Hogsmeade. Once he saw where Harry’s friends were taking him, though… he bolted. We haven’t seen him since.”

“I still don’t see why that led to you lying.”

Before Sirius could answer, the door Albus had whisked Snape behind opened. His robes were the only sound in the room as he walked back to his desk, his face wistful, but otherwise unphased. Snape emerged a moment later, his expression still wild, but eyes blank. Unlike Albus, he didn’t make a sound as he slid over to the shadows once more, but his gaze pinned Remus against the chair. He could almost hear the death threats rattling around inside his head.

Albus looked between the three of them. “What of the accusations made against Severus?”

“Recanted.” Remus said quickly, before Sirius could launch into a new string of claims. “But —”

“No! There is no _but!”_ Snape barked from the other side of the room. “You _deliberately_ put my girl in _direct_ danger — you’ve been lying the second you entered the school!”

“Yes, Severus, you’ve already said this much.” Albus said, like he’d heard it a hundred times over. “What would you have me do, then?”

“I want the werewolf,” Snape seethed. _“fired.”_

“I won’t do that.” Albus said in a serious voice. “Remus is —”

“A thieving, self-serving —”

“If Pettigrew truly has been hiding inside of Hogwarts, would it not be better to have Remus on staff? He may be the only person here who can recognize him in his Animagus form.”

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe this is happening. It wasn’t supposed to work out like _this.”_

“Nothing in your life really works out, Sniv.” Sirius offered. “I wouldn’t be too surprised.”

Remus gave Albus a long look.

Snape’s eyes flashed up to Sirius. “You’re not taking them.”

Sirius grabbed a paperweight off of the nearest shelf. “I’d reconsider that.”

“Ariel,” he spat through gritted teeth. “is _mine.”_

“And Harry is just trash to toss aside, yeah?”

“One minute you’re threatening to take them yourself, and then berating me for not — Harry was not given to me. _Ariel_ was.”

“Why is that?” Sirius demanded, turning to Albus. “What the fuck gives him _any_ right to her? He hated James!”

“That is a matter between Severus and myself.” Albus said calmly. “And you have no grounds to making such declarations, seeing as you are still wanted by the Ministry.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about the Ministry! I want to know why a lowlife _Death Eater_ like _him_ gets to have a say in what happens to them!”

“Ariel is happy with him.” said Albus. “She will remain in his care as long as she wishes it, and Severus has told me that she made that quite clear to you earlier.”

“You keep _saying_ that but it doesn't make any _sense!”_

“Does it have to make sense to make it true?”

Sirius stalled — Snape smirked from his corner. It hurt to look at it.

“Now,” Albus folded his hands together. “I want to know everything about Peter Pettigrew and what Harry has seen — from the beginning.”

* * *

 

Ariel could hear them coming, even with the doors closed. At first, all she could hear was angry shouting, like dogs snarling at one another, and then as they got closer, words began to somehow form. Harry was fast asleep in the bed beside her, which, after several minutes, Ariel found to be rather annoying. She had so many questions for him, so many things to discuss, but he wouldn’t wake up. She supposed that the Patronus he’d tried casting had taken something out of him, combined with the Dementors…

Madam Pomfrey hadn’t let her move from her cot, so Ariel had resorted to chucking things at Harry to try and get him to wake up. When she’d run out of pillows, she’d wrapped her sheets into a whip and smacked the bedding with it, trying to jolt him awake.

“— shame you didn’t drown in the Pensieve the wolf brought with him.” said her father’s voice from somewhere nearby, deep and dark, like an elegant savagery.

“Oh, shut the fuck up Snivellus.” came Sirius’ reply.

“Will the _both of you —_ we are in a _school_ for Merlin’s sake.” Remus’ voice was the only one not-angry sounding. He seemed exasperated and slightly annoyed.

“I agree, Moony. You all should do something about Voldemort’s lap dog stalking about the corridors.”

“You want to talk about dogs — you look like a flea-bitten animal. The first student to see you is likely to shit themselves.”

“Right you are. You should’ve seen Lucius’ brat. I saw the whites of his eyes — nothing like Slytherin cowardice.”

“Says the man who _moped_ in Azkaban for twelve years, but then again, Black, you always did have a flare for the dramatic.”

Ariel scrambled back into bed and threw the covers over her just as the doors opened. She could hear the heavy _clunk clunk clunk_ of her father’s boots.

“Sirius, turn back into Padfoot.” Remus hissed. “Before someone _sees_ you, or the _Dementors —”_

“I will, just let me check on the kids.”

_“Sirius —”_

“It’s the middle of the fucking night, Remus. Poppy isn’t even here.”

The curtain ripped back, and there was Sirius, looking half dead, but brighter somehow. The faraway look in his eyes was gone, replaced by something sparkling. Remus still seemed tired and annoyed, but worried, and Severus was —

“Get out of the way, Black.” her father’s voice barked. Severus shoved Sirius aside as he entered the curtain-made-room, nearly sending him toppling over. Sirius lunged, but Remus placed a restraining hand on his shoulder and corralled him towards Harry instead.

Her father met her eyes with a very strange look — it was like watching a shelf of ice in the middle of the Antarctic melt. Sirius seemed to notice too, his unkempt eyebrows furrowing, making the lines in his face deepen. The circles under his eyes looked like bruises.

“The fuck is wrong with him?” Sirius asked Remus.

Ariel stared at them, letting her eyebrow slowly inch up her forehead. Severus fixed his robes, cleared his throat, looking everywhere but her face. Ariel bit her lip to keep from snickering.

Her father then swiftly seated himself beside her and pressed his forehead against hers. Startled, Ariel almost leapt back to give him some space, but his hands were cupping her face. His breathing was labored, and his eyes slid closed — he looked like he’d just run a marathon.

“I’m alright,” Ariel said without him having to ask it. “you look worse off than me.”

He put a hand on her forehead. “You feel warm.”

She opened to mouth to tell him that she didn’t feel sick, but Severus wasn’t looking at her anymore — he was scowling at Sirius and Remus — again. “If you gave my daughter pneumonia, I’m lighting your office on fire.”

Remus let out a short sigh, and sat himself down at the edge of Harry’s bed. Sirius was feeling her brother’s forehead too.

“Harry doesn’t feel warm.” he announced. Severus rolled his eyes.

“You don’t know how to feel for a fever.” said Remus.

“Yes I do — I knew when Harry was a baby… what was it he had?”

“He wasn’t sick — you were running around with him after Lily had just fed him and he vomited all over you. You didn’t _diagnose_ him — _you_ made him ill.”

“He _cried_ like he was sick.” Sirius smoothed a hand over Harry’s head. “I felt like shit afterwards. Lily never let me hear the end of it.”

Ariel couldn’t help but notice the way her father flinched at her mum’s name. He finally leaned away, and Ariel looked up at his face, trying to figure out why he was… not-angry with her. Severus looked bone-weary when his eyes were on here, but every time Sirius spoke, it was like he was preparing himself for a battle. It confused her. She’d purposefully run away after lying to him for months. Where was the shouting and panicked bursts of words and sore throats?

“How do you feel?” her father murmured into her ear.

Ariel shrugged. “A little dead inside, as usual. I… didn't hear much… I think it's because the Dementors were so close. It all happened so quickly…”

“Here,” Remus reached into his pockets, holding out a bar of chocolate to her. “Eat this.”

Severus looked more likely to bite off his outstretched hand than receive the candy, but miracle of miracles, he did so without causing serious injury. Ariel smirked up at him as she ripped off the wrapper and nibbled at the chocolate. It warmed her toes.

“Severus, I’m sorry.” Remus said, and it sound very sincere, like he _had_ gotten them murdered. “Truly, I am. I had no idea —”

“I don’t want to hear it, wolf.” her father threw over his shoulder. His eyes were now solely on Ariel, like he was afraid Remus had poisoned the chocolate and the effects would kick in any minute.

“Harry insisted —”

“Harry is _thirteen years old!”_ his voice rose. _“Harry_ had no clue was he was running into!”

“Neither did I,” Remus sent A Look to Sirius’ back. “not when it came to Peter, at least, but as for Sirius…”

“Your mutt being found innocent doesn’t excuse jeopardizing their safety.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t.” Remus admitted. “I was doing what I thought was best.”

“Well, you thought _wrong.”_ Severus snapped, his hand threading through her hair. Ariel nibbled on her chocolate, too muddled to try and intervene. She didn’t think it would do much good anyway, even if she did feel bad for Remus. He hadn’t done anything wrong, in her eyes, but Ariel could see where _Severus_ was coming from.

She didn’t like that _name_ Sirius called calling her father either.

Sirius seemed to sense the lull in the arguing, and must’ve decided that he wasn’t finished, because he turned to look at Ariel, and when he did, it was very clear he didn’t like what he saw. Her father was inspecting the small cut on her forehead from when her head hit the floor of the Shrieking Shack, his thumb smoothing over it, as though that would somehow magically heal it. Ariel wondered why he didn’t, but didn’t have time to ask — Sirius had stalked over to her cot.

_“Move.”_ was all Sirius said.

Menace flashed in her father’s face. “Excuse me?”

“I want to make sure my goddaughter is alright, and your greasy nose is in the fucking way.”

“She’s not _your_ goddaughter, she’s the _werewolf’s,_ and even then, that’s _debatable.”_

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Sirius’ fingers flexed. Ariel kept her eyes on them, her hand in a white-knuckle hold around her father’s arm.

“It means I’m not letting you near her after what you put them through tonight.” her father’s face hardened. “She needs rest, so kindly _piss off.”_

“I’m not going anywhere.” Sirius ground out.

“Then I will _forcibly_ remove you.” he hissed. “Get — _out.”_

“I’d like to see you try.” his tone was mocking — jeering.

“I’ll do more than try, and that’s more than _you_ ever did.”

“The fuck is _that_ supposed to mean, Sniv?”

“You broke out to take them away,” her father’s arm wrapped around her. “and yet, here they are.”

Sirius fists balled to the point where it looked painful. Severus stared smugly up at him. Ariel didn’t like that look — she didn’t like the constant antagonizing. It reminded her too much of that memory — _it’s the mere fact that he exists, really —_

“Dad, I’m fine.” Ariel sighed. “You can both stop.”

“I could’ve done it.” Sirius said coldly. “That _was_ my plan at first, anyway.”

_“Really?”_ Her father’s eyes glittered dangerously, “Two children on the run with a convicted murderer — yes, that sounds like a sound plan.”

“They’re _my_ godkids.” Sirius argued, baring his teeth. “Go fuck yourself, Sniv, you’ve got no business —”

“No _business?”_  Severus raised his wand.

Ariel let out a yelp, scrambling to grab it before they started going at it. He moved out of her way just as she lunged, colliding with his arm instead. She held onto his sleeve and tugged, trying to get him to look at her, but his gaze was locked on Sirius.

_“Padfoot —”_ Remus started in that warning-voice again.

“She’s _my_ daughter.” Her father snarled. “You tried to _take her away_ and you think you have _any —”_

_“YOUR_ daughter?” Sirius thundered back. “Moony, give me your wand — listen _here,_ Snivellus —”

_“Please_ stop.” Ariel begged. “You’re all on the same side, for Merlin’s sake.”

“Ariel is right.” Remus grabbed Sirius’ arm, finally getting him to recoil. “The _both_ of you need to _calm down._ What matters is that Ariel and Harry are _safe.”_

“With no thanks to _you.”_ Her father spat, trying to shake Ariel off.

“Dad, please, it's alright!” Ariel was practically hanging off of him. “We’re _fine.”_

Severus seemed to notice that she was practically dragging him to the floor when his cloak began to tear. He grabbed her around the middle and deposited her back onto the bed, sending Sirius a wild glare before kneeling down in front of her, blocking Sirius and Remus from her view.

“What were you thinking?” her father asked her, giving her shoulders a small shake.

“You would’ve killed him.” Ariel said, not needing to ask what he was talking about, and too tired to dodge.

His eye twitched. “I have yet to hear an acceptable reason for running away from me and to the flea bitten psychopath.” 

“He’s innocent.” Ariel peeked around him at Sirius — he was back by Harry’s cot, but watching her with some indiscernible expression. “You would’ve killed an innocent person, and I couldn’t let that happen, now could I?”

He still appeared unmoved by this. “How did you find out what Harry had been doing?”

“I have my sources.”

Her father rolled his eyes. “Bellatrix’s brat, then?”

“You weren’t listening.” Ariel huffed. “What else were we supposed to do? Think about how Harry would’ve felt if something had happened to Sirius.”

“That’s a good point.” Sirius chimed in from across the room. He’d sulked back over to Harry — Remus was still standing in-between him and her father.

“I think I just lost several brain cells.” Severus rubbed at his temple. Ariel flushed crimson.

“I think I’ve lost some listening to you.” Sirius muttered under his breath.

“Oh, that’s not good.” Her father sneered. “You haven’t got many to spare.”

“Fuck off and die, Sniv.” Sirius shot back.

“Watch the way you talk in front of my daughter,” Her father hissed. “you fucking inarticulate _moron.”_

Ariel felt her ears blistering. Severus had cursed from time to time when she’d been younger, but nothing like _this._ He sounded like the boys in the Gryffindor common room.

She and Remus shared a long look. He seemed to sympathize with her, and she wondered if this was what it had been like when her mum and James had been alive and in school. How had her mum put up with it?

“Speak for yourself, Snivellus.” said Sirius, a furious, fast edge to his voice, like it was tilting. “Can you do that now, or will you topple over with the next puff of wind?”

“It really is fascinating how much you _talk_ rather than _do_ now that it's just you and me.” her father seemed to have forgotten Ariel was there. “Four against one looked better then, didn't it Black?”

“Wow- _wee,”_ Ariel interjected in a very loud voice. “does anyone want to see how a _Silencing Charm_ works?”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Remus smirk. Her father gave her a cold glare, keeping his gaze trained on her as he wordlessly pulled the curtain shut, and fell into the chair beside her bed. He looked like he was trying to pull his hair out.

Sirius let out a cry of protest from beyond the curtain, but before he could do anything, Ariel heard rapid footsteps, and then, hushed whispering.

“Are you…” Ariel inched away from her father. “good?”

Severus gave her a one-eyed glare. “Getting there.”

“I _told_ you he was innocent.” She tried weakly.

“Of murder, yes.” Her father growled. “Child endangerment and kidnapping, however…”

“No one got kidnapped.” Ariel rolled her eyes. “Harry and I are both here, aren't we?”

“That has yet to be seen.” His eyes flickered to the curtain.

“If it helps any, if Sirius tries to smuggle me away, I’ll Hex him in the bollocks and let you do whatever you want.”

“I heard that.” Sirius called.

Severus’ lips twitched. Ariel gave her father a meaningful look. He scowled, but it smoothed over when she leaned her head against his shoulder blade. It wasn’t comfortable, but it felt good, in a different sense, one that chased the Dementors away.

Something fell — Remus sighed. “Oh _fiddlesticks.”_

“Listen, Moony, I know this is a tense situation.” Sirius muttered. “But let's watch the fucking language, alright?”

Her father glared at the curtain like he was trying to set them aflame. Ariel grabbed his hand — the one that was lying limp on the bed — and waited for him to de-tense.

“Turn into a dog,” Remus said in a scary voice. “Before I break your neck.”

“You would never.”

“I’ll let Severus do it.”

“I’d like to see him fucking —”

Silence — and then a loud POP!

“So what did Professor Dumbledore say?” Ariel asked, settling back against the pillows.

“Nothing important.” her father said — his lip curled, which Ariel took as Severus-Speak for the conversation not going in his favor.

“That doesn’t seem very likely.”

He kneaded his forehead with his hands for a minute or so, not saying anything. Ariel decided to stay silent. She didn’t want to aggravate him anymore, and her father didn’t seem very angry with her, which was surprising, but certainly not unwelcome. Severus was acting like he’d been told that he’d be teaching primary school from now on, or some other horrible fate.

“I thought,” Severus said, muffled. “that they were going to take you. I thought… I thought I’d have to go after you two… and if I was too late…”

Ariel felt that pang of guilt — it was becoming a yearly occurrence. “I’m… I’m sorry I scared you. I really wanted to tell you everything, but it wasn’t fair to Harry or Sirius and Remus. I’ve felt horrible about this whole thing…”

“I know.” he said quietly.

She stared. “You do?”

“You and Harry have been… less than amicable lately. I had an idea as to why… but I know you were opposed to this… little _game_ Black has been playing with Harry.”

“I didn’t want to choose.” Ariel looked away. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you…”

“I don’t blame you, my girl.” Severus said in a heavy voice. “Stop apologizing.”

Ariel stared down at the sheets. She didn’t know how to interpret her father writing off her apology. Usually he took it and kept rattling off her transgressions until he ran out, and then, he sulked. Tonight, however, he was… reserved, like the Dementors had taken a piece of him with them. She had a lot she wanted to ask — the spell he’d used on Lucius being the first thing — but if her father was content with not yelling, Ariel wasn’t going to push that matter just yet. Was he restraining himself because of Sirius?

When she met his eyes again, he was staring at her.

“He cannot know.” Severus mouthed.

He didn't have to say what he was talking about — Ariel knew.

She nodded, and the hand she was holding went up to her hair, threading through it slowly, like her father was trying to make sure she was real.

“Try and sleep.” Severus murmured. “It’s late.”

“Will you stay?”

He glared at the curtain. “Of course.”

The growl heard from the other side was followed by a loud _WHACK._

“Night, Remus.” Ariel called softly. “Night, Sirius.”

Remus’ head popped into the curtain-made cubicle. “Goodnight, love.”

“Get _out.”_ Her father’s voice was flat flat _flat._

She smiled as he disappeared, bringing the blankets up to her chin.

“Night, Dad.” She whispered. Her hand was lying over the side of the bed, and to her surprise, he grabbed it, kissed her palm, and held it.

* * *

 

Remus did not sleep — he didn’t want to, and he couldn’t. It was the first time his body was responding the way he wanted it to, and it was strange, it a roundabout kind of way.

Padfoot had fallen asleep, but just before dawn, he stirred. Harry still hadn’t woken up, and for that Remus was glad. Snape was still watching them — he’d drawn back the curtain once Ariel had fallen asleep, undoubtedly making sure that Sirius didn’t run off with Harry in the middle of the night. Maybe _that_ was why Remus hadn’t fallen asleep — Snape’s glare was so potent that every time Remus met it, he felt his spine shudder.

He’d held Ariel’s hand all night, though, which was a very strange combination. It was like watching a bird take flight for the first time, only for a hawk to catch it minutes later.

“Is Sniv still here?” Sirius muttered as the shadows danced across the walls — Remus didn’t have the energy to tell him to turn back into a dog. His efforts would be futile anyway.

“Is your pathetic shred of existence still imposing on us all?” Snape’s voice called. 

“Morning to you too, greaseball.” Sirius threw back at him.

“You’re going to wake the kids.” Remus rubbed his eyes.

“I’ll silence him.” Snape gave them a horrible smile. “Permanently, if you’d like.”

“Tempting, but I’ll have pass.” Remus said. “I’ll put up a Silencing Charm instead.”

“You do that.” Snape said coolly. His eyes were now fixed on Harry, who, by nothing short of a miracle, had not woken once. Remus could tell Sirius wanted him to.

Sirius sat up and pulled back the curtain, waving at Snape as he did so. Remus wordless flicked his wand, feeling the Silencing Charm fall over them.

“I’m going to fucking kill him.” Sirius said to the curtain. It was a wonder the corners hadn’t been singed by now, between him and Snape.

“Ariel wouldn’t like that.”

“Jesus and Rowena, Remus,” Sirius muttered. “she’s like Lily part two.”

“You came to like Lily a great deal.”

Sirius made a sound of disagreement. “Red _sounds_ like her, back when we were in school. She looks at Snape like she thinks the sun shines out of his pasty white arse.”

“He _did_ raise her, Padfoot.”

“She calls him _dad.”_ Sirius shuddered. “That’s fucked up, Moony.”

“She's obviously found something in him that warrants a great deal of affection. I don't think Snape would let _you_ see that side of him.”

He gagged. “Please, _stop.”_

“Fine,” Remus set down his wand on the table beside him. “let’s talk about Peter, then.”

Sirius’ face darkened. “What about him? He’s long gone, Moony.”

“I think we should discuss it with Severus.”

He appeared startled, like a deer caught in headlights. “The fuck? No! Why the hell would we do that?”

“If we find Peter, you go free.” Remus gave him a pointed look. “There’s not much evidence without it. The Dementors wouldn’t hesitate… and the Ministry wouldn’t either.”

“I still don’t see why we need to include Snivellus in that. It’s _my_ problem.”

_“Our_ problem.” Remus corrected. “Albus says we need to locate Peter if we’re going to have _any_ kind of shot at getting you your freedom. If he’s truly left Hogwarts…”

“… then someone needs to go after him.” Sirius finished unhappily. He looked back at Harry, running his hand through his unruly hair. “You think I should go, then?”

Remus leaned forward, rubbing his hands together. “I think we should _both_ go.”

“What?” His head turned sharply towards him, startled. “No, Remus, you’ve got to stay here.”

“No, I don’t. Listen, I’ll resign — the kids will be safe here with Severus and Albus —”

“You’re not coming with me, Moony.” Sirius said, his voice surprisingly stern. “I can do a whole lot better tracking as Padfoot than you can as a human. I’ll be faster on my own. Besides, you’ve got to keep an eye on Harry and Ariel while I’m gone.”

Remus quickly tried to discern whether this was genuine, or part of the Loathing Snape aspect of Sirius. He supposed it was both, and this bothered him. Did Sirius not want him coming along, then? Did he still not trust him? Or did Sirius really think that Remus’ rightful place was here, at Hogwarts?

_Well, you’re not James,_ said Conscience. _He would have never said no to James._

“If this is about Snape,” Remus said slowly. “Albus already told you… you’ve got to let this go.”

“I heard what Albus said.” Sirius looked back towards Harry. “He _also_ said that we need proof if we’re going to do anything… I can’t just stay with you as Padfoot, like he offered. I couldn’t… sit around and do nothing.”

Albus had indeed said that, but he’d said a great many things, when Snape wasn’t trying to get him fired every other minute. Leaving Hogwarts would exonerate him from Snape’s rage — not that it bothered Remus, because Snape was going to loathe him infinitely either way — but it would give him less ammunition in the future. He’d be with Sirius, actually _doing_ something to help keep the kids safe, instead of waiting and hoping for the impossible to come to pass.

It felt like the drums of time had rolled and ceased. There was nothing, in that moment, except for Remus, and Sirius, and the boy — James and Lily’s boy — in the bed.

“What about Harry?” Remus asked quietly. “Harry will be worried… you’ll really leave them again?” _I’ll be worried I won’t sleep._

“I don't like it.” Sirius said in a hard voice. “I’ve barely… I haven’t even _talked_ to Ariel, yet. Snape keeps getting in the way.”

“His ward took off to go and find an Azkaban escapee. How would _you_ have reacted?”

“It’s not my fault he’s got a broomstick jammed up his arse.”

“I’m not debating Severus again.” Remus sighed tiredly. “Where will you go?”

“Wherever Peter’s scent leads me.”

“That could be anywhere.”

“Well, it’s anywhere, or I stay on the run, and what use am I going to be then?”

Remus closed his eyes. “You’re worth more alive than dead.”

“You think _Wormtail’s_ going to off me?” Sirius sounded offended. “I’d rather let Snivellus take a swipe at me than _ever_ let that little shit —”

“Not Wormtail. What if… something happens, and I’m not there?” He opened his eyes to find Sirius’ own searching his, like he’d just realized that whatever it was — whatever it had been — was still there.

_“I think you should do what you feel is right.” Lily said, her red hair spilling about her face. “You just know about these kind of things, you know? Merlin, I sound like a bad romance paperback —”_

Sirius was staring at him feverishly. “You dreary old werewolf, you.”

* * *

 

They met Remus and Sirius at dawn, escorted by her father, who didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to, though — his twitch was saying enough. Ariel wondered if it was a new kind of tick triggered by Sirius, or if he was pushing his self control to startling new heights. There was something about this whole situation that still felt very backwards. Instead of holing Ariel and Harry up in his quarters to _keep_ them from Sirius Black, her father was _taking_ them to him — in the middle of the _Forest._

Ariel hadn’t said a word to Harry all morning. She didn’t think she could without berating him. He’d woken up in a panic when he found Sirius and Remus absent, but Severus had begrudgingly assured him that they were both fine and waiting for him in the Forest. She stayed close to her father as Harry walked ahead of them, unsure of what was going to happen next. Sirius was still wanted… and there were Dementors lurking around the Forest. The path was familiar, however, which made Ariel feel a tiny bit better. It wasn’t until they broke into the clearing that she realized just _how_ familiar it really was — they were at her rock. Sirius-the-dog and Remus were waiting by the edge, looking quite peaceful. When Sirius-the-dog caught sight of Harry and her, though, he gave a joyful whuff and bounded over to them. He nearly knocked Harry out of his shoes.

_“Padfoot!”_ Remus shouted, sounding a lot less amused than Ariel was. Sirius-the-dog licked Harry’s face, and then jumped onto Ariel, his paws resting on her shoulders. Harry was laughing, and she couldn’t help but crack a grin, either.

“Disgusting.” Severus muttered from somewhere behind her.

“It’s alright.” Ariel scratched behind his ears. “I think I like him better as a dog anyway. There’s less screaming.” she gave her father a pointed look — he pretended not to see it.

“Screaming?” Harry asked, glancing between Sirius and Severus.

“Trust me, you’ll get enough of it sooner or later.”

“Make it quick, Black.” her father commanded, giving a careless flick of his hand before stalking away towards the tree line.

With a quick _pop_ he turned back into Sirius, kneeling down in front of the both of them. “I’m sorry about last night, you two. How’re you feeling, Harry?”

“I’m fine.” Harry grinned. “Did you get away alright?”

“Don’t worry about me.” Sirius waved him off, grimacing. “Listen I… I’ve got to tell you two something, and I’ve got to make it quick before the Dementors get a whiff of me. I’m… I’m leaving.”

Ariel blinked. “What?”

“When will you be back?” Harry asked, some of the light in his green eyes dimming. “Where’re you _going?_ We’ve just… we finally…”

“I don’t know.” Sirius bowed his head so that all they could see was his dirty, matted hair. “I’m going after Peter. It’s… the best chance I have of proving my innocence. Remus is going to stay here with you two in case he doubles back. I have his scent from Ron’s sheets… I’ll find him.”

“Okay.” Harry said, and there was no mistaking the thickness in his voice.

“Hey, hey,” Sirius cupped his face. “I’ll be back — don’t you worry. I’ll find Peter, and after that, we’ll be a proper family. I promise.”

He pulled him into a tight hug then. Ariel shifted uncomfortably on the balls of her feet, looking everywhere but at Harry and Sirius. Before she could open her mouth to say her own goodbyes and retreat back to her father, there was a strong, bony pair of arms crushing her. Ariel gasped as Sirius embraced her, but let herself fall into it when something pulled inside of her. It was like an echo from a memory she couldn’t identify.

“Don’t trust him.” Sirius breathed into her ear, his voice low and rough.

Ariel pulled away, trying to make her face disapproving, but she couldn’t. Her head felt like it had been filled with white noise and mist.

Sirius stood, and with another _pop,_ turned into Padfoot. He walked over to Remus, nuzzling his knee as Remus patted the top of his head affectionately.

“Don’t forget to write.” Remus called, the corners of his mouth curving upwards, but his eyes said something different entirely.

Padfoot whuffed, and began trotting away. Ariel turned to Harry, about to ask if he was okay, but stopped herself when she saw the look on his face. There was an emotion cracking through the sadness, like sand spilling out of an hourglass. It was pouring out of him, overflowing into every inch of his face, until —

He stepped forward, his wand out.

_“Expecto Patronum,”_ said Harry.

Out of the end of his wand came not the mist Ariel had been watching him produce for weeks, but something with a defined shape. It was a blinding, dazzling animal that turned to stare down at the both of them with silver eyes, it’s hoofed feet leaving no tracks on the ground.

It was a stag.

Ariel waited for the feeling to reach inside her and strike up the hole in her heart that would bleed out both intense grief and indescribable joy, but it did not come. All she could feel was happiness, like something she had been longing for all her life had just been granted to her.

_“Prongs.”_ Harry whispered, reaching for it. The stag lowered its head, almost like it was bowing to them, and then, trotted over to Padfoot. He was watching them with an expression that was both deeply sad and fiercely proud.

They watched as the stag and the dog disappeared into the trees, and lingered even after then. It was almost as if they were waiting for something more, but what, Ariel did not know.

All she knew what that was when she turned and saw her father looking down at Harry like he was a witness to something she would never be allowed to see with her own eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Harry’s POV will fill in a lot of what we missed due to the lack of it these past few chapters.
> 
> Some lil notes: We only have six more chapters of PoA! Huzzah! I’m going to try and get it done rather quickly, because I need to start GoF (will third year ever END) so keep an eye out for updates. Sunday has been unreliable lately, because I am working/in school.
> 
> If you want more details/updates on what's going on with the story, my tumblr is lupinlaughed.
> 
> The title of this chapter comes from the musical Love Never Dies, from the song by the same name.
> 
> Please review, because I truly need them. Xx


	77. The Art of Communication

Harry didn’t know how to move forward from this particular nook in time.

The soft glow of the Patronus was still fading, and he clung to every scrap of it as it fell through the spaces of time. Harry wanted to bask in its glower forever. It made him feel both heavy and light, like he was walking on clouds, but didn’t fear falling through.

“He’s beautiful.” Ariel murmured, breaking the silence. Time seemed to have realized that Harry was taking advantage of its generosity, and at the sound of her voice, it dragged him back to the present, where his Patronus and Sirius were long gone.

Remus was still at the edge of the rock, as if he was about to go bounding off into the trees after them. If he did, Harry wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold himself back from following. The past few weeks had been the most peaceful Harry had been in a very long time, and if he could have continued seeing Sirius, he would’ve gone with him. There was something comforting knowing that every weekend, he’d go and see him for a few hours, and Ron and Hermione would keep watch, and afterwards, when Harry would tell them what they’d talked about, he didn’t have to worry about it getting back to someone.

“Was it him?” Harry called out, hoping with all his might what he suspected was true.

It took Remus several seconds to realize Harry was speaking to him. He slowly turned, blinking, like he was staring directly into the sun, but he wasn’t — he appeared stunned. “Was what him?”

“The stag.” Harry felt his throat tighten, matching the ache in his chest. “Was it Prongs?”

“I can’t say,” Remus smiled sadly. “while each Patronus is unique to the castor, yours is… obviously the same as James’. I don’t know if its Prongs for certain — perhaps it's a piece of him.”

Harry felt his heart swell, looking to his sister to see what she thought, but Ariel wasn’t looking at him. She was staring at Severus, who was leaning against a tree several feet behind them, arms crossed. He looked like he was trying hard not to interrupt — Harry wondered why. His face was chiseled from rock – maybe the very one they were standing on.

“When your mother found out, she was quite pleased, although she threatened to Hex anyone who pointed it out.” Remus chuckled. “A stag to her doe… she’d be overjoyed, if she were here.”

Harry blinked — there had been a doe in the Shrieking Shack last night… he nearly forgotten…

“Was that yours, last night?” he asked, looking back to his sister.

Ariel stared back, obviously taken aback. “Was _what_ mine?”

“The… doe.”

“Oh…” her eyes flitted away from him, presumably back to her dad. “No, it wasn’t me.”

Harry frowned. “Then… who…?”

“It’s time to leave,” Severus interrupted abruptly. “if the Dementors caught even a _whiff_ of Black, they’ll be here any minute.”

Ariel didn’t move. Neither did Harry, or Remus. Harry stared back at Severus, trying to decipher that strange expression on his face. Had Harry _not_ seen a doe? Was the look on his face due to the fact that if there _had_ been a doe, that meant Lily —

No, Ariel had seen it too, and Remus had told him his Patronus was a wolf, but it was barely corporeal. That meant the doe had belonged to…

Severus didn’t look like the type of person who had his mum’s Patronus right now — he looked like the type of man who could impale a certain Defense professor with a tree trunk. Regardless, Harry felt like he was suddenly very small, so unlike the Patronus, which had made him feel like he could conquer this entire Forest in a day. When Severus had shown Harry the memory of his parents in the Pensive, and that silent confirmation of Severus’ love for his mum had… _happened,_ he’d assumed that that love was in the past, like the Pensive had encased. If Severus still had the doe… that meant that after twelve whole years, even after raising Ariel… his heart was still…

“I think Harry and I need to talk.” Ariel said quietly. _“Alone.”_

That tore Harry from his thoughts, his head spinning back to his sister. He’d completely forgotten about her, really, in the midst of everything that had been happening. All Harry had been concerned with last night was making sure the Dementors, or worse — _Severus —_ didn’t find Sirius. He hadn’t had a chance to digest the fact that Ariel had found out before Severus had…

Harry kicked the ground. “I suppose we do.”

“Well you’re not doing it _here.”_ Severus looked between the two of them like they were going to start going at it right then and there. “You’re coming with me back to Hogwarts. You can… settle whatever it is once we’re inside.”

“Severus is right,” Remus cleared his throat. “we shouldn’t linger.”

Severus gave him a look that told Remus to do something rather impolite. He sent a sneer over his shoulder as he stalked away, his robes flapping behind him. Harry took note that he hadn’t even waited for Ariel and him to start following, but they did so anyway, Remus behind them.

They walked in silence for several minutes. Harry kept his hands shoved inside his jean pockets to try and stop his hands from shaking. It was like he could feel the distance between himself and Sirius growing. He wondered how far away he was already — he hoped he’d be able to find his way back alright.

Severus didn’t bother to slow down — he was far ahead of them. Harry couldn’t tell if he was keeping his distance because of Remus, or because Harry mentioned the Patronus and didn’t want it _discussed_ around Remus.

“Remus,” Ariel spoke up after a few minutes. “can I ask you something?”

He hesitated, but nodded (Harry noticed that he shot a look to Severus first, like he was asking permission for something with his eyes, even though Severus’ back was to them). “Of course.”

Ariel bit her lip. “Are you… really a werewolf?”

An odd shiver passed over Remus’ face. “I am. I realize that… it wasn’t a deliberate… I was afraid…”

“I’m not mad at for you not telling us.” Ariel said softly. “I understand. Dad just… kind of blurted it out. He knows?”

“The entire staff knows.” said Remus, pushing his greying hair out of his eyes. “I was a very small boy when I received the bite. My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure. The potion that Severus has been making me —”

“Dad’s been making you a potion?”

Remus nodded. “The Wolfsbane.”

“Well,” Ariel looked at Harry. “now we know why he stopped letting us brew with him at the end of the summer.”

“Why?” Harry asked. “is it dangerous?”

“Most of the ingredients are.” Remus sighed. “It makes _me_ safe, however. As long as I take it in the week preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform… I’m able to curl up in my office, a harmless wolf, and wait for the moon to wane again. My transformations were the reason your Dad and Sirius became Animagi — Peter too.”

“Really?” Ariel breathed. Harry said nothing — he knew all this already from Sirius.

“Yes — my transformation when I was a student here were… terrible. They planted the Willow here,” Remus pointed to it as they passed by. “the summer before I started. The tunnel that leads to the Shrieking Shack was used to smuggle me there once a month, and the Whomping Willow to discourage anyone who might find it to keep them from entering during a full moon.”

Ariel didn’t say anything more, and when Remus looked down at her, he looked haunted, like something he had feared had come to pass. Sirius had told him that Remus kept his distance before he thought he’d be giving them “cooties”, but Harry had known he was covering for something else. When Severus had called him a werewolf back in Remus’ classroom… it had made sense. He disappeared once a month… how tired he always seemed… the Patronus… the Boggart…

“It doesn’t matter much.” Harry voiced.

Remus looked like he wanted to smile down at him, but couldn’t.

“Oh!” Ariel gasped, startled. “Remus, I didn’t mean… I thought you would’ve… it doesn’t matter at all, really. I was just… asking. I didn’t mean to insinuate that it makes any difference to me.”

He gave a jerky nod, his face twisting in and out of a very painful-to-watch attempt at a grin, and something deeper. It was the thing Harry often saw lurking beneath the surface of Remus’ face, but never got a good look at.

“You’re still alright in my book.” Ariel nudged him, linking her arm in his. For a moment, it looked like Remus was going to pull away, but he didn’t. Harry did the same with his other arm — not quite as close as Ariel was, with her heading resting against his arm, but the sentiment was still felt.

Remus’ eyes seemed to be misting as they climbed the stairs to the main entrance of Hogwarts, Severus still leading the way. Once he hit the entrance, he spun around, finding Remus arm in arm with them both, and his face flickered, like a flame right before a gust of wind blew it out.

“I want you two inside the castle until further notice.” He said in a low, tired voice. “No Quidditch practice unless you’re escorted by a professor, and no rock. Is that understood?”

“I’ll gladly escort them, if need be.” Remus offered. Severus’ eyes twitch towards him, like was some kind of irksome fly.

“Dad?” Ariel untangled herself from around Remus. “Are you —?”

“I’m exhausted.” he was — he sounded like he’d lived ten lifetimes. “Do not disturb me unless you find Pettigrew, which isn’t likely, so kindly leave me be for the next several hours.”

Harry half expected for Ariel to appear hurt, but she nodded in understanding instead. “Okay.”

His gaze lingered on her, and then Harry. He met his eyes, trying to convey _some_ kind of apology in them, and he _was_ sorry. He hadn’t wanted Severus to find out about Sirius this way… he shouldn’t have thought he could’ve kept it a secret from Ariel for as long as he had. Hermione had urged him to tell her, but there was something about having something she didn’t for once… keeping something for himself… 

“How upset is he?” Harry asked her once the ends of Severus’ robes disappeared around the corner.

Ariel shrugged. “You don’t owe him anything, but I’d go talk to him, if I were you.”

He had the distinct feeling she was being sarcastic, and that was a dig at him, somehow. Harry ignored it, looking away as Remus patted his shoulder.

“I’m afraid I have some paperwork to catch up on,” he told them. “seeing as I was interrupted by something quite _urgent_ last night, but you’re both welcome to stop by later, if you’d like.”

Harry grimaced. “We _are_ sorry about that —”

Remus waved his hand impatiently at them. “Don’t apologize. It was bound to happen either way.”

“Yeah, well, he still overreacted, just a tad.” Ariel sent a dark look down the corridor Severus had disappeared into.

Harry snorted. “Yes — just a tad.”

“If you find yourselves without anything to do later on,” Remus started down the hall towards his office. “you’re more than welcome to come and keep me company.”

Harry had a feeling that was exactly what he’d be doing later.

They both waved goodbye, although, it felt kind of odd to do something so normal after last night’s events. There was no waking up in the hospital wing with Severus hovering over them. Pettigrew was gone — not that he’d ever been a real _threat —_ but he’d indirectly taken Sirius with him. That made Harry hate him just a bit more.

Speaking of hovering — Ariel was doing just that. She looked like she was about to burst with a question, but had her lips sealed shut.

“Do you still want to talk?” Harry asked, the corners of his mouth twitching. He didn’t know why — it was only his sister — but he felt extremely uncomfortable.

Ariel quirked an eyebrow. “If you’re up for it.”

“I think I’ll manage.” He looked around. “We can’t go back outside though… we need somewhere private.”

“I have a place.” she gave him a ghost of a smile. “It’s a bit of a trek, though. You up for it?”

“As long as it’s not the Owlry, I’m down for anything. The smell starts getting to you, after a few minutes, you know.”

Harry regretted agreeing to wherever Ariel was taking him when they hit the fourth staircase, and they _still_ weren’t there. Maybe it was because he wasn’t in Gryffindor and wasn’t used to climbing so many stairs to his dormitory, but he was exhausted. He wished Dumbledore had invested in some sort of pulley system instead.

“Just wait,” Ariel told him as he leaned heavily against the railing. “it’ll be worth it.”

His side felt like it was going to split open when Ariel finally stopped on the _fifth_ bloody floor, pressing her hand against the wall to reveal a stone door. As it slid open, Harry glared at it mutinously, but his disgruntlement soon faded when he saw what was inside. The was a _garden_ in full bloom – the December air hung in the air as a reminder of winter – but the plant life didn’t seem bothered by it at all.

“What _is_ this place?” Harry asked, agog.

“Slytherin and Hufflepuff built it together.” Ariel gestured to the garden around them. “It’s… somewhere to talk if you don’t want to be heard. No one can get in until we leave.”

“It looks too pretty to be built by Slytherin.”

She laughed. “You’re right — there’s a basilisk asleep in the azaleas over there.”

Harry shuddered. “You better mean a _statue._ How are all the flowers still alive? It’s bloody freezing up here.”

Ariel wiggled her figures at him, leering. _“Magic.”_

He rolled his eyes. “Original.”

She snickered, walking out to a pot of hanging flower — daffodils and English roses. They looked horrible coordinated, in a nice sort of way. Ariel plucked two from the pot, slipping one behind her ear, spinning the other between her thumbs.

“I’m not angry with you.” Ariel said, twisting a daffodil’s stem around her fingers. “That’s not why I wanted to talk. I think I’m too dazed to be anything, really.”

“Yeah,” Harry said cautiously, not wanting to rock the boat. “I guess I would be too… I mean, _I_ am, and I’ve been seeing Sirius every week.”

She made a sound in the back of her throat Harry couldn’t categorize.

He thought back to the day after he’d spotted Pettigrew’s name on the Map, and the exhilarating thrill of fear he’d felt as he lay in his bed later that night. It had almost been like something had been pushing him to keep searching, but Harry had been half scared out of his mind. That was the backwards thing about the Map sometimes — if you didn’t pay close enough attention, someone could be coming up behind you, and you wouldn’t know until you looked down and your stomach dropped to your feet.

The next day, when he’d told Ron and Hermione about what he’d seen, they’d waved it away as a misprint in the Map, perhaps, but Harry knew that couldn’t be. Remus and Sirius and his dad had made the Map themselves, and Remus said it never lied. So why would it be showing Peter Pettigrew’s name if Peter Pettigrew was dead?

When Harry had decided to sneak off to Hogsmeade to meet Sirius — Remus had spilt that the Shrieking Shack was their meeting place at Patronus lessons the week prior — Hermione had nearly bit her lip off in worry. She’d tailed him all morning, hissing in his ear that this was _not_ a good idea, that this was _not_ a very Slytherin thing to do, to at _least_ take Ariel with him in case he got lost, and what about the Shack itself? Ron had eventually dragged her off for them to leave the _legal_ way to Hogsmeade, giving Harry an hour or so to figure his way through the winding tunnels under the castle. When he’d ended up in Honeydukes, he’d been rather surprised it had worked, or that Severus wasn’t there, waiting for him. It would probably be the only scenario in which Severus would be in a candy store.

Harry had found Sirius, leaving Ron and Hermione to keep watch after they’d raided Honeydukes and Hermione had picked up some new quills, and told him what he’d seen, it had taken a good fifteen minute to calm him down enough to convince him that barging into the castle was _not_ a good plan by any means. He’d sworn that the Map only showed _living_ people, which meant that Pettigrew must have survived somehow. Sirius had then asked him to keep it between them until he did some investigating himself – Harry had made him swear not to enter Hogwarts again, so he’d taken over searching the castle, while Padfoot took to the Forest.

A few days later, when Scabbers had finally turned up again after missing for three days, Harry hadn’t even thought anything of it, at first. There was nothing unusual about Ron’s rat sitting atop his shoulder, although, he looked frazzled, which Ron contributed to Crookshanks. Harry wondered if that was the way Pettigrew had looked all the time — Sirius had said in the months before his parents were killed, he’d been acting strangely.

And then he’d looked at his toe, his mind trying to imagine the day Sirius had cornered Pettigrew in that alleyway, and saw that Scabbers was missing one of his own. He’d quickly rummaged for the Map in his rucksack, but by that point, Scabbers had flown from Ron’s shoulder and off into the bookshelves of the library. They’d gone charging after him, only to find themselves face-to-face with a _very_ angry Madam Pince.

Later that night, they’d found the blood on Ron’s sheets, and brought it to Sirius, who’d recognized the scent. He’d spent his days scouring the Forest for him, and Harry the castle, but there weren’t any signs of him anywhere. Pettigrew was gone, along with the one shred of proof they might’ve had to prove Sirius’ innocence. 

Harry told Ariel all of this as she settled on the ground, Harry on the bench. He felt like he was some kind of teacher telling his class of one a story.

“You could’ve told Dad about Pettigrew.” Ariel said once he was done, tracing patterns in the sand between the stone ground. “He would’ve found him eventually — maybe even told Dumbledore about it so he could help. _That_ would’ve proved Sirius’ innocence without blowing the Shrieking Shack to smithereens. I was so scared… between the three of them… that someone would get hurt…”

“That was what we were planning.” Harry said, wincing at how it sounded out loud. “We needed Severus’ testimony.”

Ariel’s head snapped back to him, her face _very_ unhappy. “You were going to _use_ dad?”

“We needed an unbiased witness.”

“You could’ve used _yourself.”_

“No one would’ve taken me seriously, Ariel.”

“Ron? Hermione?” her hair was becoming a living flame with the amount of fire in her face. “You told _them —_ you could’ve used them instead of using _him_ without letting him _know_ your _intentions.”_

“No one was going to take a bunch of kids’ words against Sirius’ confession!”

“You could have gotten _Dad_ killed!” Ariel snapped. “What if the Dementors had found them and overwhelmed them? What if the Aurors had shown up and thought Dad was aiding them? A million things could have gone wrong, Harry!”

“He wasn’t listening to me or you.” Harry shot back. “What _else_ was I supposed to do?”

“You could’ve told me, for one!” She fumed. “We could’ve figured something out together, like we usually do!”

Well, so much for not getting angry.

“Since when do we make plans together?”

All of the fury melted out of her face. “What?”

“We were never… a team.” said Harry.

Her face splintered. “No… I guess we aren’t.”

Harry opened his mouth to retract it, but stopped himself. Ariel wasn’t exactly unreliable — she’d kept the Animagus-secret for as long as she had, and Severus finding out had been a complete accident.

He knew she kept things from him, about their mum and Severus… maybe even their dad too. He couldn’t figure out _what,_ exactly, after Severus had shown him what he had in the Pensive, and told him how he’d felt… but he _did_ know that Ariel hadn’t told him about Severus being a Death Eater. That was a lie, wasn’t it? It was the same kind Remus had told Severus… only worse, because Ariel wasn’t protecting anyone. She thought she was, but she wasn’t.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said quietly. “I didn’t mean it like that. We _are_ a team… when it comes to Voldemort, I guess.”

“You _guess?”_ Ariel repeated back tonelessly, falling onto the stone bench beside him.

“You and I…” he tried to think of how to phrase what he felt without crushing her. “We have different priorities, is all.”

Her head shot back up, her dark eyes narrowed. “Different _priorities?”_

Harry was beginning to feel like he was talking to a parrot. “I was worried about helping Sirius, and you were worried about protecting Severus. So yeah — different priorities.”

“And you _weren’t_ concerned with something happening to Severus because of what Sirius thought?”

“I was… but after I talked to Sirius, I thought I’d diffused the situation. All he’s been worried about is Peter… Remus talked to him about what Lucius said too. You don’t find _that_ weird?”

“What?” Ariel cocked her head in puzzlement. “The spell? It was to give dad an upper hand if he… _if_ he goes back spying.”

Harry blinked. “What do you mean _if?_ Is he reconsidering?”

“No,” she said coolly. “I’m just not letting him do it.”

He stifled the urge to roll his eyes. “Right, well, let me know how that works out for you.”

“Thanks, I will.” her eyes glinted coldly back at him.

Harry didn’t say anything for a minute or so. “That’s why Sirius has been adamant about Severus, you know. The whole Death Eater thing.”

“He’s not _anymore.”_

“But he _was.”_ he felt like this conversation was just a back and forth of stating the blatantly obvious. “The last Sirius heard of him… he was with Voldemort. He doesn’t know anything about him and mum and what he did for her.”

Ariel’s eyes widened, her face paling. “You didn’t… _tell him_ anything, did you?”

“Of course not.” Harry rolled his eyes, thinking back to those weekends with Sirius, and waiting for him to drop something — _anything —_ about Lily and Severus, but he never did. All he’d talked about was the James-Snape rivalry, and how often it erupted during school.

 _“And let me tell you something kid,”_ Sirius had gripped his chin. _“Don’t think for a second because that slimy git is Head of Slytherin that it means you have to be anything like him, or Lucius’ kid — what’d you say his name was?”_

_“Draco.”_

_“Yeah — him. My brother could’ve been better than that, but he wasn’t. He was an idiot, and I was too… I wasn’t what I should’ve been, alright? But you could be… you_ are _so much more than what they are, Harry.”_

 “I didn’t tell you,” Harry bowed his head, rubbing the palms of his hands together. “because you were too scared about what Sirius might do to Severus rather than what the _Dementors_ or the Ministry might do to Sirius. I didn’t want to overburden you.”

She looked dismayed by this. “I don’t know Sirius half as well as I know my _dad,_ Harry. I _was_ worried about Sirius, but I was also kind of preoccupied with the fact that dad had this vendetta against him because of mum.”

“So the idea of the innocent, wandless fugitive didn’t concern you more?”

“No, but it's a dangerous combination.”

“He was _dad’s best friend,_ Ariel. _He_ would’ve raised us —”

“Yeah, well, he didn’t.” she said sharply. “You could spin it a million different ways, Harry. _Lots_ of things could’ve happened differently. You can blame Petunia for keeping us apart, or Dad, or even Professor Dumbledore, because we _could’ve_ been together all this time, but we weren’t, the same way Sirius _could’ve_ fought.”

_we’ll be a proper family I promise you look so much like your father_

“That’s not fair.” Harry bristled. “He was _framed —”_

“Even _Remus_ was upset when he heard, because he was alone all those years too.”

_You truly are your father’s son_

“It’s what _Dad_ would’ve wanted!” Harry shouted. “Do you still care about him, or do you want to blame him too?”

Her face drained of color, like she’d been stepped on.

“I _do_ care about Sirius.” Ariel finally said, staring at the ground like she wanted to disappear into it. “I care about James too… he’s our dad, after all, but James is only an idea to me, really. He’s not here — he was, but he’s anymore, and while I’ll always love him, Severus is a real person to me. He’s not some face on a photograph or an old friend we hear Remus and Sirius talk about. Dad raised me, and he’s saved my life — he’s saved yours too, and he’s going to keep doing that as long as Voldemort is around, so I’m sorry if it seems like Sirius’ feelings don’t matter to me. Maybe if you’d brought me with you… I’d understand more, but I don’t.”

“What about Remus?” Harry demanded angrily. “Don’t _his_ matter?”

“I never said their feelings don’t _matter —_ you’re hearing what you want to hear.” Ariel shook her head. “I’m saying I don’t _understand_ them, on some level. Mum chose Remus —”

“And Dad chose Sirius.” Harry said defensively.

“I know that…”

“He’s worried about you! He’s worried about the _both_ of us, and when has that ever happened before?”

“He’s not Dad, Harry.”

“Yeah, well, and Severus isn’t Dad either.” Harry snapped. _“Our_ dad is dead, so stop acting like it’s only me that wants something.”

Ariel looked away — the daffodil she’d been twisting between her fingers began to flake away into tiny pieces, the soft breeze carrying it off. She looked like she was trying very hard not to say something, but the expression on her face told him it was more of an inner Ariel-thing than something regarding _him._ Harry ran his hands through his hair and tried to decipher what he had said might’ve translated to her — he liked thinking ahead; it made him feel like he wasn’t constantly lost.

Harry didn’t understand why Ariel didn’t want to know Sirius the way he did. He wondered if it was because so many people had told him how much he looked like James, and Ariel like Lily, and so she’d ignored any parts of herself that might’ve been their dad after all. She’d always talked about their mum — James was a mystery to him, until Remus…

Or maybe it was because Harry was the only one that wanted… _Ariel_ had it…

“Harry…” she said in a low voice. “there’s something I —”

“I’m not mad at you.” he interrupted, sucking in a deep breath.

Ariel paused. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“I’m _not,_ really.” Harry said earnestly. “I’m —”

“Worried about Sirius, I know.” she finished. “You’ve said that at least twenty times already.”

“I’m not trying to reinvent the wheel here.” He finally found the strength to look her in the eye, finding that they were gazing back at him evenly. “Look… he said when all this was sorted out, I could go live with him.”

Her face crackled. “W-what?”

Harry frowned. “That’s supposed to be a _good_ thing.”

“I mean… twelve years ago it would’ve been!” Ariel said in a high voice. “You live with _us_ now, though — with Dad and I.”

“I only went to live with you this summer because of what happened in the Chamber.”

“That’s not true… Dad wanted you there, Harry! _I_ still want you there, and that doesn’t have to change.”

“If he wanted me there, he would’ve taken me when I was five, Ariel.” Harry gave her a pointed look. “He doesn’t share.”

“I don’t _need_ to be _shared.”_ Ariel said, disgusted. “I’m _your_ sister, and I’m _his_ daughter. He learned that the hard way already, or do you not remember your first year? You’re welcome with us as… as long as you want it.”

“Let’s not pretend here, alright?” he squared his chin and crossed his arms. “We don’t need to dance around certain things anymore — we’ve too old for that, yeah?”

Ariel blinked. “I’m not following you.”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek. “Severus will never be to me what he is to you.”

She flinched, like that had been that last thing she’d been expecting him to say. “He… he _does_ care about you, Harry, he just doesn’t know how…” she looked down at her hands helplessly. “I know he does…”

“Sirius wants me to live with, and I want to be where I’m wanted.” he told her truthfully. “That doesn’t mean I’m expecting you to come with me.”

“Blood is thicker than water.” Ariel muttered.

“Severus didn’t want me — _doesn’t_ want me.” it hurt to say that out loud — it was a known truth, and he hated how much it hurt to say.

“Harry… alright, _look.”_ She looked up at the sky, like the answers were written across it. “We’ve… talked about this before, and I don’t want it to seem like I’ve ignored it, because I haven’t. Dad has made a lot of mistakes — I’m not denying that. He… well, you saw the memory, right? There was _that,_ and then he went and made it worse by joining Voldemort… he left you with the Dursleys… he was horrible to you. There’s no getting around that if you resent him, you’re allowed to. I won’t hold that against you, but dad worries a lot about you. He _does_ care about you a great deal, but he doesn’t know how to bloody _show_ that because I don’t think he knows it himself. I know him better than anyone, Harry. I would understand… and I _do,_ I guess, but I don’t want you thinking dad still doesn’t like you.”

That was the thing, though — Harry _wasn’t._ He didn’t hold anything against _Severus_ anymore. All of that had leaked away the last time they’d sat down and spoken. Severus had dedicated his life to protecting them — it was different than what Sirius and Remus wanted, because it was a sacrifice, in a way. It had dissolved, like the sun disappearing behind the horizon. What he felt was something different…

“I’m not resentful… not anymore, anyways.” Harry said quietly. “I know what Sirius said isn’t true, but that’s because all he remembers is what he last saw of Severus.”

“So,” Ariel’s stare was trying to drill a hole into a pot of ferns straight across from her. “you didn’t tell me, because you thought I didn’t _care_ about Sirius? Is that it?”

“I didn’t think it was fair to give you so much to worry about.” Harry said, even though something in the back of his mind went _“yes, that’s it.”_

She gave him a withering glare. “Pettigrew killed James and Lily — I would’ve liked to have known he’s _been_ here.”

“I know,” Harry said, tired of bickering. “I’m sorry.”

Ariel didn’t say anything after that, and Harry felt a wave of relief fall over him. It was tinged with guilt, though, because while he had told her that truth, he couldn’t look away from the dejected look on her face now. She’d looked that way too, back in the Shrieking Shack, right before Harry had passed out… when the Dementors…

“Severus’ Patronus is a doe, right?” he whispered. “That was him?”

Ariel looked up, her face faraway, and very sad. “Yes.”

“That… doesn’t make you happy?”

“It just… makes me feel small, is all.” Ariel gave a smile that wasn’t a smile at all — it was like looking into a cracked mirror. “There’s really no reason for me to feel that way, right?”

There wasn’t, but it made Harry feel the same way, like he was tucked away somewhere tight, unable to wiggle out. He was just a part of something — they _both_ were — that was in the name of someone else. It had frightened him, in a way, that someone could love someone so much that they’d give their lives to them, but Severus still loved his mum as much as he had when they’d been kids.

Twelve years later, and Severus still loved Lily to the point where his Patronus was hers, and Remus said only those with the purest of hearts could cast something that corporeal.

He wondered what Sirius would’ve thought if he’d seen the doe.

“No,” Harry agreed, his heart aching. “none at all.”

* * *

 

Severus could not sleep, no matter how hard he tried.

He was not someone who moped in bed — he was genuinely exhausted — but his body wasn’t cooperating. Severus couldn’t pinpoint whether this was because he was still reeling over turning from Lupin to find Ariel and Harry _gone,_ or Ariel and Harry being _right._

He’d never been wrong before, or at least, not _this_ kind of wrong. Severus had long prided himself in keeping his wits about him in order to secure whatever it was that he was focused on. Black… was the hole in his Shields. All of them had been, really — James fucking Potter included in that. Hell, he’d been the reason Severus had shouted _Mudblood_ at Lily — _she_ was a different matter entirely, like their daughter was. It terrified him, that there was more than one Achilles heel hiding inside his head, waiting to be ground into dust.

Wrong about Black, right about Lupin.

He really fucking hated that werewolf.

It had all… resolved itself, which was a suspicious concept for Severus to mull over, but he tried. Black was gone — good fucking riddance — and so was the threat of him, and… Pettigrew. It was still mind boggling that Lily would’ve ever agreed to it, but if she’d been working with Potter and Black, who’s loyalty to each other and their friends supplied a never-ending fountain of _trust_ — a dangerous thing — then Severus supposed it wasn’t as farfetched as he’d like to have believed.

He felt a shudder pass through him at the idea of Ariel’s life in the hands of fucking _Pettigrew —_ of her, small and helpless at that age…

There was a different element to it as well that Severus had never considered. Harry’s hope for Black and his alleged innocence wasn’t masked by longing — it had been _fed_ by something _real._

That particular thought bothered Severus. He didn’t know why, and it irritated him greatly that he didn’t know why. Harry was Lily’s son, but he was impossible to read, unlike Ariel. He could read his girl like an open book. Severus understood it, but didn’t know how Harry felt about it in regards to… others… and their reactions.

There was a soft glow coming from behind the door, now. Was he hallucinating?

Severus sat up so fast that his head hit the headboard — he swore loudly just as the shape materialized through the door, and trotted silently into his bedroom. He recognized it immediately and sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his head.

“If this is an apology, Potter,” Severus sighed. “it’s not cute.”

The stag simply stood there, its silver eyes blinking at him.

“Why are you here?” he growled. “you’re going to give me a migraine.”

It nuzzled his shoulder, and Severus kept very still, as though it were a real animal in his room. After a moment, it disappeared, traces of it twinkling in its place. His chest felt hollow.

Severus groaned into his hands — a stag. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed, with everything the boy had been through, but the adoration in Black and Lupin’s eyes had been glimpses into the past of their fallen friend.

What the hell did he care what the boy’s Patronus was? Harry was still Potter’s son. _That_ had never changed, but something else had. Severus didn’t know how to name it — it was a word he could feel, but not describe.

Why did nobody care about what happened to those children? Was it because Severus had Vowed his life to protecting them, or because he simply had a bigger stake in it than anyone else?

He stood, throwing some Floo powder into the fireplace. “Albus? Are you there?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So Harry and Ariel talked about some hard stuff, Severus may or may not be Feeling, and Harry sent him a friend. I am now going to lie in dread for the upcoming week.
> 
> I do this every week, so I feel really annoying, but please, review. They give me life. x


	78. Demons

Severus found himself almost looking forward to the week beginning, because it would mean that life would reset itself, in the way that it usually did. It was like waiting for something lost to float back up to the surface, and even though teaching was at the top of his list of Things He Loathed, Severus would be able to take his remaining fury out on the little cretins tomorrow. It almost made it bearable — almost.

There were too many guilty parties all vying for his attention, and while Severus would have been more than content to sit and fume silently, he couldn’t. There was Dumbledore, who would have _known_ that Potter’s ring of friends were all illegal Animagi, and _Lupin,_ with his kind eyes and mask of patience Severus wanted to tear off, and Sirius _motherfucking_ Black…

He couldn’t be that person when Ariel needed him, Severus had realized. She’d been very quiet since Black had left, spending less time with Harry and more with Bellatrix’s brat. He’d seen them sitting together, apart from her brother, Weasley, and Granger at meals. Severus wouldn’t call it a coldness, but there was a wall there. Whether it had arisen after their “talk” several days prior or was a product of it, he did not know, because Ariel had simply shrugged it off when he’d inquired about it. She didn’t seem eager to tell him, and while Severus wanted to know what Harry had said to upset her, he’d restrained himself from prying.

Severus could guess, however, about what had transpired; he wasn’t _completely_ useless in that department. What Harry had done was what Severus had first feared when it came to Ariel — seeking company elsewhere. It had never really occurred to him that the _boy_ might be the one who distanced himself. It wasn’t very… Potter-like. It was pure Harry: indignant and collected, all at once. 

Then again, Harry was not the Gryffindor Severus had expected him to be. He was a Slytherin, and there were ways of getting what you wanted when you knew how to get it. Ariel didn’t understand that — she forced herself to believe she was happy and comfortable, even if she wasn’t. Harry would not settle like she did, which was why she was so miserable. Ariel didn’t grasp the idea that… Harry wasn’t satisfied.

Severus knew he was the cause of it, and he hated that. He hated _that_ he hated it _._ He wasn’t supposed to care what Potter’s son wanted to do when it came to those he considered… _family._ Two years ago, Severus would’ve rejoiced at this new development, but after seeing his daughter’s face, and her silent desperation on the matter… he couldn’t bring himself to feel anything, really. Albus had told him the other night that it was “the heart’s way of finding what it wanted”, and Severus had rolled his eyes — it would always lead back to that, when it came to Dumbledore.

_(It bothered him more than Black and Lupin)_

At least Pettigrew was fucking gone, and that Black had gone in his wake. If he was still at Hogwarts, Severus wouldn’t be contemplating the emotional turmoil of a thirteen-year-old boy — he’d be tearing down the sodding _walls._

There was a knock on his door late that Sunday afternoon as Severus was dictating the pop quiz he planned on giving to his NEWT students tomorrow. He immediately froze — Albus usually came through the Floo, and Ariel never knocked - which meant it had to be Harry. He was the only one who came directly to his quarters…

Severus was incredibly annoyed to find that it wasn’t even _Harry,_ but Minerva. She presented herself with a terse, almost bored look, like a cat silently watching from its favorite spot. Severus nearly pointed this out, but there was no need to antagonize… yet.

“I have something to discuss with you,” Minerva said, gesturing to the room. “May I?”

“If you must.” He did not move. The last time Minerva had entered his living space, she’d complained about the clutter, and Severus had spent the night seething as Ariel helped him organize some of it.

She quirked an eyebrow. “Are you going to let me in, or do you plan on standing there until I grow tired and leave?”

“Would that _work?”_

“It’s not very likely, so no.”

Severus didn’t say a word as he slid to the side, allowing her to enter. Minerva did so with the air of someone who did not want to be there, but their intentions dictated it so. He slammed the door with more force than necessary, and busied himself with pouring a glass of firewhiskey as Minerva watched, a disapproving frown on her face.

“Have you talked to your daughter lately, Severus?” she asked as he took the first sip.

“I haven’t been excommunicated yet,” he answered dryly, not really wanting to discuss Ariel with anyone — he’d never been comfortable with that subject, really, unless it was with Dumbledore.

Minerva gave him an exasperated look. “I’m very glad to hear that. Has she mentioned her academics to you at all?”

Severus blinked. “Not… very much. Why?”

“You haven’t been keeping track yourself?” Minerva looked unhappy with this development.

“Ariel doesn’t need me breathing down her throat in regards to her schoolwork. She knows what’s expected of her.”

“You raided my records her first year.”

“That was different,” Severus waved at her impatiently. “I wanted to see where her strengths and weaknesses lay.”

“There are materials based off of topics we covered last term Ariel is not grasping,” Minerva said, clasping her hands in front of her like she was preparing to stand her ground. “When she was… ill.”

Severus quickly wracked his brain for what he’d covered in regards to Transfiguration with Ariel after Riddle’s attack. He’d tried to evenly distribute each subject, but he’d wanted to focus on Defense, since Lockhart had been utterly useless, and _his_ girl wasn’t about to grow up with a missing year of Defense under her belt. Harry had even come after his own classes, desperate for what Lockhart wasn’t giving them. Ariel had taken the greatest affinity to Defense, and Severus had no qualms… _extending_ tutoring on that particular subject.

“Her marks are not where they should be,” Minerva continued tersely when he did not answer right away. “There’s a foundation missing. In other areas of my class Ariel is just fine, but it’s… collective, Severus.”

“Are you criticizing _my_ teaching skills?” Severus asked in a dangerous voice.

“I have before — or did you forget the first several years of your tenure?” She stared at him knowingly, and Severus scowled. “I don’t doubt that you invested some semblance of patience after you pulled her from classes, and Miss Potter is undoubtedly a bright girl, but she’s struggling. I don’t know if the situation with Sirius Black is contributing… but she’s… for lack of a better term, _slacking.”_

“She’s been just fine in Potions,” Severus responded coolly — his common sense was telling him that Minerva was simply stating facts, not insulting the girl, but it felt like it.

“You’ve been teaching her how to brew since she could hold a ladle.” She gave him a look like she’d bitten into a lemon. “It’s not just me, Severus. Pomona and Filius also say she hasn’t been pulling her weight as of late. Now, I’m willing to give her some leeway, but I have conditions.” 

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “ _What_ conditions?”

“I’ve spoken to Miss Granger; she’s volunteered to work with Miss Potter in specific areas until I deem her proficient enough to study on her own.”

 _That_ had to be the worst idea Severus had ever heard. “Ariel is not… _fond_ of Granger the way her brother is.”

“She is patient and, quite frankly, the only student I would entrust with this.”

“Granger is a know-it-all.”

“She’s… enthusiastic. She simply hungers for approval.”

“Is that what you call it?”

“It is, in fact,” Minerva said in a strained voice. “Not that you would know — you’ve never given the girl a chance to impress you.”

“None of the student impress me.”

“Well then, Severus, I don’t know what else to offer.” Minerva sighed. “I didn’t want to schedule a meeting with the School Board. I thought I’d come to you first, and see how you wanted to proceed. Ariel knows the material; she just hasn’t absorbed it since she missed so much class time. I’m sure Miss Granger can catch her up rather quickly, since we’re around the time Ariel took ill.”

That was just what Ariel needed — the professors she had grown up knowing questioning her abilities as well. Severus downed the rest of the firewhiskey at that thought, and set his sights at the photo on the mantle. Photo-Lily appeared mildly concerned, but nodded when Severus’ gaze met hers.

“Couldn’t Ariel just go to you for help?” Severus asked in a heavy voice. “Or myself? Does it have to be _Granger?”_

“If I don't have the time, then I know for a _fact_ you don’t either.” Minerva smirked smugly. Severus scowled back.

“She’s not going to like this.” Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning against the side of the desk.

“Miss Potter doesn’t have to _like_ it,” Minerva replied, lifting her chin. “If she puts in the effort and progresses to an acceptable level, then her meetings with Miss Granger will cease. The more she studies, the sooner it ends, if she truly finds Miss Granger’s company to be _that_ aggravating. It would be a nice change of pace for her, to be around her own House more often.”

Severus gave Minerva a one-eyed glare. “And what is _that_ supposed to mean?”

Her thin lips twitched. “Have her come to my office straight after breakfast tomorrow.” 

“You can fetch her yourself,” Severus said in a voice that told Minerva he wasn’t going to make this easy. If Ariel was struggling with her schoolwork, she could pull herself back up without straining herself too much. She was smart — she _liked_ learning, like he had when he’d been a boy. Minerva was simply hovering. Potter had been passable in Transfiguration, and Severus could already see that Minerva had the same expectations for his children as she had for him. 

 _She only has Ariel’s best interests at heart,_ his Inner-Hufflepuff offered meekly. Severus didn’t buy it for a minute.

This was the _last_ thing Severus needed right now. The week was supposed to herald _normalcy,_ not… Granger-study-sessions. Ariel would object the second she heard Granger’s name mentioned, and even though Severus didn’t like it either, she _was_ under Minerva’s jurisdiction….

Minerva glowered at him, though it could hardly be called that. She looked like a cat that had just been disturbed from an afternoon nap.

“Tomorrow, Severus,” she said curtly, and then, without another word, left with something akin to a flounce.

He kneaded his forehead wearily, and resolved to take it in stride.

* * *

 

“Careful, it’s hot,” Remus was warning Harry as he handed him his tea. “I spilt some on myself the other day and I bit my tongue.”

He smiled as he accepted, making himself comfortable on the sofa in Remus’ quarters. It was old, stained, and smelled like mothballs, but Harry didn’t mind. It suited Remus, somehow. In fact, _everything_ in here was rather mismatched and dowdy, but Harry liked it anyway.

“So… you said you stay in here?” Harry asked, blowing on his tea. “When you become a wolf?”

Remus nodded. “It’s much more comfortable than the Shrieking Shack, I have to admit.”

“Sirius said it wasn't bad for him, but I think he was lying so I wouldn’t worry.”

“I’m inclined to agree with you there.” Remus looked away, towards the windows, like he was waiting for something to appear. “Sirius isn’t the type to complain about himself.”

Harry felt his throat tighten. Sirius hadn’t complained once about having to stay in the shack - all by himself, most days. Every time Harry had tried to urge him to take shelter someplace warmer, he’d changed the subject, or made the excuse that Remus wouldn’t like him moving right now. Harry wondered where he would sleep while he tracked Pettigrew. He should’ve sent him away with a blanket or something…

“He _also_ isn’t the type to control himself,” Remus went on, “which means that if we were there, it was because he genuinely wanted to be — I kept insisting he _not_ find shelter where the Ministry expected him to be, but he never listens...though, I shouldn’t say _never._ The only person he ever heeded was your dad - and your mum, but that was always done begrudgingly.”

“Not you?” Harry frowned, confused. Thinking back to just the other night, when Severus had nearly taken off Sirius’ head, Remus had been like a shadow on the wall. He’d figured that had been because Severus had been acting like the type of person Harry imagined a Death Eater to be, but in a backwards Harry-and-Ariel-Saving kind of way.

“Your mum had a good head on her shoulders, and Sirius loved James like a brother.” Remus smiled down at his teacup. “Sirius was always a shot in the dark. I was never firm enough with him… it’s my own fault, really. And Peter — forget about it. Sirius used to laugh whenever Peter suggested anything, unless James took it seriously.”

His mind immediately went to the memory Severus had shown him in the Pensieve. 

“He seemed the type,” Harry said, before he could think twice about it.

Remus blinked, obviously taken off guard. “Oh?”

“I, er… well, Severus showed a memory,” Harry explained. “of the day… he called my mum… something.”

He set down the teacup with a loud _ca-clink,_ his face shifting from confusion to seriousness. Remus had the ability to seem like two very different people, sometimes. “He showed you…. has _Ariel_ seen it?”

“I think so.”

“Why?” Remus’ grey eyes had amber tinged around the edges. “I’m not following why he thought it wise to let you both see something like that.”

“I… sort of told him I didn’t believe he was friends with my mum after Sirius told me he’d been a Death Eater.”

Remus blinked, some of the graveness slipping out of his face; it was replaced by a deep, calculating look. He lifted his teacup off the saucer, and stared at the table like there were lines written there he had rehearsed, but couldn’t remember. 

“It’s… disconcerting to me that the only memory you have of James now is him at his worst,” Remus said quietly.

“It’s not.” Harry shook his head. “We hear him when the Dementors - he’s telling Mum to run with us. When I told Sirius that, he… said it was him at his best, and instead of letting it get to me, we should… put it somewhere. I didn’t really know what he meant by it, and I didn’t want to pry. I think it upset him… he was there that night too, he said. Hagrid wouldn’t give us to him…”

Remus had that faraway look in eyes again, like he was wherever Padfoot was. Harry looked away — he had the distinct feeling he was intruding on a rare moment, and instead, thought about what Remus had just said about James’ worst instead.

He had _stories —_ things _Ariel_ didn’t have that he’d collected during his weekends with Sirius. His sister had been Harry’s never-ending supply of information when Severus had first brought him to Hogwarts, and from then on, really, when it came to their mum… but Sirius had given him parts of their dad Harry had been searching for. James wasn’t _just_ the man Severus hated anymore — it was like the moon revealing the sun after an eclipse, really. Harry had known James was there, somewhere behind all the secrecy, and now that he was fully revealed, he wanted to bask in the light forever.

Speaking of Severus…

“Have you talked to Professor Snape at all?” Harry asked mildly, trying his best to look very invested in the tea cup he was holding. Remus had said his mum and dad had bought them as a gift for him. He imagined his mum’s hands tracing the patterns, like his were now, and felt better knowing he was holding something she had once touched herself.

Remus gave him a funny sort of look. “I regret to say that I haven’t had the opportunity to just yet.”

“No, you don’t.”

He laughed — it was odd to hear Remus laugh. It sounded like wind blowing through a hollowed out log.

“Have _you?”_ Remus asked, taking Harry off guard. He nearly spilt his tea as he sipped it — it was still hot.

Harry shook his head, setting the cup back onto the saucer. “Not since… the other night.”

“I thought it best to give him some space.” Remus almost appeared apologetic. “I really didn't mean for him to find out the way he did.”

“Neither did I.” Harry half-laughed, wincing at the memory of the shudder that had rolled through him when he’d heard Severus calling through the shack…

Harry hadn’t seen Severus since he’d seen Sirius, and that had been on Friday night — seeing him at meals didn’t count, and he hadn’t really spoken to his sister after their… _talk,_ so Harry had no idea what Severus thought of the whole thing. He could venture a guess that he hadn’t enjoyed any of it, and he was probably going to try and poison Remus the next full moon, but other than that, he felt… oddly left out.

Severus probably wasn’t worried — anymore. He gave himself heart attacks if Harry was in _danger,_ but if he wasn’t, then Harry didn’t matter. If anything, Severus was just seething, like he always did post murder-attempt. He’d sat at the staff table over the weekend like he was being _Imperioed_ to sit there. Ron had pointed out that Remus sat on the opposite side of the table — Harry didn’t blame him.

Not long after that, Harry said goodnight to Remus and set off to the Astronomy Tower. He didn’t have any intentions of spending any more time in his dorm that he had to. He was still annoyed with Damon for stealing his Map and telling his sister what he was doing without talking to him first, but Hermione had gently pointed out that it was bound to happen sooner or later. Ron had agreed with Harry, but the more he’d thought about it, the more he realized that he had hurt Ariel a great deal more than he’d intended to — not that he’d _wanted_ that, but Harry _had_ realized that keeping secrets would entail hurt feelings.

Ariel had been giving him space, and while normally Harry would have found that strange, he really hated it. He felt like they were arguing when there was nothing to argue about - but he couldn’t take back what he’d said and done now.

He sighed as he settled against the wall of the alcove, opening up his dad’s Map. There was no Sirius… no Pettigrew… but there hadn’t been any Pettigrew for weeks. Sirius had had a hunch that he’d gone to Voldemort, but how would he know where _Voldemort_ was? Although… if anyone did, maybe it was Death Eaters.

_(Did Severus know then, too?)_

He had the Mark… 

Almost as if Severus knew he was being pondered over, even if it was a brief thought, he appeared. Harry heard him before he saw him — the flap of robes, and scuffle of boots across stone - only this time, Harry didn’t run. He stayed put until he was looking up at Severus, who nearly ran him over. He looked like the dark side of the moon, the lines in his face jagged, like shadows dancing in the torchlight.

“Mr. Potter,” said Severus in a voice that wasn’t angry, but worn and weathered, like the lines in his thin face. He said his surname like it was something he’d been putting off, and reluctantly finding the time to deal with. Harry didn’t like this.

 _“Professor_ Snape.” Harry replied curtly, letting a considerable amount of irritation leak into his voice.

If this struck a chord with Severus, he didn’t make it known. He rubbed his chin and leaned against the wall, lowering his eyes to the floor, like he’d suddenly come down with a horrible migraine.

“What are you doing here, Potter?” he asked. He still didn’t sound angry — it made Harry want to throw something at him.

“Oh, so it’s Potter again, is it?” Harry huffed. 

 _That_ seemed to do the trick — Severus’ eyes lifted themselves to Harry’s, and now, they were glittering. Harry didn’t exactly know why, but he _wanted_ him mad. He was probably suicidal for thinking that, but that wasn’t important right now, it seemed.

“Do save me the melodramatics.” Severus sneered. “Or are you already taking a page from your beloved godfather’s scrapheap?”

“Maybe,” Harry said, his temper beyond his control — a tiny voice in the back of his head was begging him to stop while he was ahead, but Severus hadn’t seen him in three days, and he’d acted like that was _normal._ “Are you taking a page from my mum’s, with your Patronus?”

Severus did that thing where he seemed to freeze in time. If Harry didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought he’d become part of the wall.

“Does your sister share _everything_ with you?” Severus ground out. His jaw was the only part of him that moved.

“She didn’t tell me,” Harry muttered. “Remus and Sirius did, and then I saw yours. I _do_ have a right to know what my mum’s Patronus was, you know.”

“I never said you _didn’t.”_

“Sure sounds like it.”

“You seem to have taken up the art of _assuming,”_ Severus said coldly. He was beginning to defrost now.

“So have you,” Harry shot back. “Like _assuming_ that…”

Severus raised an unkempt eyebrow. “Assuming _what?”_

Harry looked down at his boots, scowling at the floor. He didn’t have an answer, which bothered him even more than Severus was. It… just made him _mad,_ for some reason, that he hadn’t seen him since they’d said goodbye to Sirius on the rock. It was almost like Severus was avoiding him… which never happened all that often. Usually it was the opposite, and even though that grated on Harry’s nerves too, there was something about it… it reminded him of the way the doe had made him feel.

“Did you get my Patronus?” Harry asked instead of answering Severus’ question.

He gave him a peculiar look, like something had sprouted in the middle of Harry’s forehead, and he was trying to incinerate it with his stare. “I did.”

“And?”

Severus’ eyes slid closed — he leaned heavily against the wall. He looked like he was trying very hard not to bury his face in his hands.

Harry felt his cheeks flame. “Right, well, I guess I’ve got my answer there.”

His eyes snapped open. “Answer to _what?”_

“You don’t care, do you?” Harry wanted to take back the words as soon as he left his mouth, but Severus’ reaction caused him to think twice. He’d heaved himself from the wall, his dark eyes were hard, darting between Harry and the corridor behind him, like he was trying to find an escape route behind him.

“Not this,” Severus muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “not you too… what is it with the both of you? Why does it _matter?”_

Harry had no clue what he was talking about, so he shifted his weight onto one foot, and waited for Severus to start speaking English, instead of his double-sided Snape-Speak.

“It’s… not very common for someone your age to manage… a Charm of the caliber that… _well.”_ Severus finally said in a heavy voice. “To many, impressed would be an understatement. I _assumed_ you would have realized that when you saw how your dogfather appeared smitten by the bloody thing.”

It sounded like a compliment, but… didn’t. Harry didn’t exactly know how to decipher it — was Severus _capable_ of compliments? Maybe he wasn’t, and that was the problem… not that Harry was fishing for any. What did he care? He’d only sent the Patronus to… to…

Well, he hadn’t known why he had done that either, but that was besides the point. The problem was that Severus was a git, and Harry was mad at him for… being a git.

“You don’t have to call Sirius that,” Harry muttered.

Severus rolled his eyes. “That’s what he is.”

“I defended you to him too, you know.” Harry said heatedly. His head felt like it was being slowly being cooked.

“I don’t _need_ defending,” Severus snapped. _“Least_ of all from Black’s risible accusations.”

“Yeah, you made that pretty clear when you both started acting like complete nutters.”

“I’ll be sure to control myself next time,” Severus rolled his eyes, sarcasm layered in every inch of his voice, “in order to spare Black’s _feelings.”_

Harry had a feeling he wasn’t really talking about Sirius, but he decided not to push it.

“Well, you’d better,” Harry said loudly. “Seeing as I’m going to live with him, and all.”

Had Harry known the kind of reaction _that_ would provoke, he would have reconsidered saying it. Severus almost seem to stumble back — but he hadn’t tripped, he was simply… stepping away. His hands clenched, and the expression on his face flashed, like a sting, and it was raw and open for a fraction of a second. It made the hair stand up on Harry’s arms and neck.

“Are you now?” Severus panted in a kind of voice Harry had never heard him use before — not even around Ariel, when they didn’t know he was listening.

“… Yeah.” said Harry, squaring his chin. “I am. When he finds Pettigrew.”

Before he could figure out what was happening, Harry heard Severus’ robes sweep across the floor, and then, he was looming over him, the expression on his face foreign and unknown to him - it was like looking into the bottom of a well and not being able to see the bottom. His hand grabbed his shoulder, and before Harry could pull away, he stopped, and stared back at Severus’ fathomless face, trying to figure out what was wrong with him.

And then he was gone. Harry stood in the corridor, staring at where Severus had just stood, and felt his lips twitch. The smirk was gone, however, when Harry spotted a light growing brighter and brighter at the end of the hallway, bounding towards him. He already knew what it was before it came into his view — the doe stood several feet away from him, her ears twitching as she bowed.

When she disappeared, the corridor felt colder than it had before.

* * *

 

Severus’ heart was hammering inside his chest the entire walk down to the dungeons. It was like a drumroll accompanying every step he took.

What was _wrong_ with him? Six fucking words and Severus had felt like something final and unmovable had happened right under his nose…

Talking to the boy felt like walking on a tightrope lately. He wasn’t just _the boy_ anymore — Harry had changed in a way that Severus didn’t quite grasp just yet. There was… a strength in him — maybe Black’s influence had put it there, or perhaps it had been there all along — but Harry held himself differently than the confused thing Severus had brought to Hogwarts two years ago. It wasn’t just him; Ariel noticed it too, but she was hurt by it, incorrectly assuming it had to do with _her,_ but it didn’t.

After talking to him just now… the boy was angry with him for not following up, but why would he? He’d taken to Black and Lupin the way Severus had feared… so what did _his_ opinion matter anymore? Harry had changed… but the… _longing_ aspect had simply… _grown._

And Severus… cared about the boy’s opinion of him.

 _That_ led to Severus spending the next hour or so with a cold cloth on his forehead. He couldn’t stop his hands from shaking, and it was beginning to cause him to panic a bit. Severus felt like he had the day after he’d told Ariel the truth… or even the day he’d met her. The comparison only heightened his confusion, and led to him finally forcing a Calming Draught down. He hated the fucking potion — they made him feel helpless — but if Ariel came by tonight, Severus didn’t want to alarm her.

Giving up on his prep for the week, Severus decided to try and distract himself from this revelation by reading one of the many books Dumbledore got him every Christmas. He usually refused to read them, because he hated gifts, but new material seemed the best route to take. He’d already read everything in his personal library at least twice.

Severus tried very hard to ignore the way his chest seemed to loosen when he heard Ariel step into the hallway — he’d been staring at the index for an indefinite amount of time, replaying his conversation with Harry in his head while trying to debunk it. He could hear her sighing, though she was probably unaware that she was even doing it.

Ariel looked sullen and sad as she fell into the armchair across from him — _his_ usual spot.

“Your brother is acting strangely. I suggest you speak with him,” Severus said, not bothering to ask if she was alright. Ariel would dodge his attempts, and then become bothered and storm off. He still couldn’t pinpoint if that was a part of Lily, or a hormone-induced-teenage-girl phenomenon.

“He knows where to find me,” Ariel muttered back. She buried her nose into the crook of her arm and glowered at the fire.

“I’m not playing peacemaker between the two of you,” Severus said in a controlled voice. “Stop avoiding the awkwardness of whatever happened between the two of you in that blasted garden.”

“Sure thing.” She rolled her eyes. Severus let his displeasure show plainly until she looked back to him — he let it deepen, and Ariel sighed. “You make it sound easier than it really is.”

“The boy is your brother — not some stranger.”

“Yeah, well, it feels like he’s just that, lately.”

Severus didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t. It was the safest bet, really. Between the conversation with the boy… it was like walking on eggshells — and Black had finally fucking _left._

“I have a favor to ask.” Ariel said after a few moments.

His suspicion mounted. He lifted only his eyes from the pages of the book. “And what would _that_ be?”

“Can you… teach me Occlumency?”

Something inside his head felt like it had smashed into the side of his skull. His first instinct was to immediately tell her _no,_ but he’d learned by experience that denying anything outright was not the wisest course of action when it came to his daughter. She needed to be guided into doubting something, even if she really did want it.

Severus smacked the book shut. “Why?”

Ariel sat up straighter, obviously encouraged at the lack of an immediate dismissal. “Well for one, I don’t think I can fucking cast a Patronus without it.”

His eyes narrowed. “Do you want to try that sentence again?”

“Why?” She crossed her arms defiantly. _“You_ seemed just fine with it the other day. Remus was saying that you two ought to try and broaden your vocabulary next time.”

Severus didn’t like the corner he’d been backed into. He’d tried, for the sake of Ariel’s innocence, to control his swearing around her as child, but there were few things in life he enjoyed, and swearing and smoking were two of them. He’d given the latter up when he’d been given the girl, but Ariel wasn’t little anymore. She certainly didn’t seem _offended_ by it, but Severus didn’t know how to feel when it came to her using it herself.

“It’s… unladylike,” he tried.

She snorted. “Yeah, because I’m _such_ a lady.”

“It’s unbecoming.”

“Hypocrite.”

“Yes,” Severus agreed. “I’d like to preserve whatever goodness you have instilled in you, and just because _Black_ and I swear doesn’t mean _you_ should.”

Ariel gave him an impatient look. “Like I said — _hypocrite.”_

“Swearing won’t help you cast a Patronus,” Severus sighed.

“Very nice segway, Dad, but _Occlumency_ will.” She stared at him pointedly — he felt like his forehead was caving in from the force of it. Severus was nearly impressed.

“No, it won’t,” he replied. “Occlumency _hides_ your emotions — a Patronus requires the opposite.”

“So then, how do _you_ do it?” Ariel demanded. “How do you cast a Patronus if you use Occlumency all the damn time?”

“Why aren’t _you_ asking me to teach you _that_ instead?” Severus countered.

 _“Would_ you?” Ariel challenged.

He considered this. There didn’t seem to be any downsides to Ariel enlisting his help in this particular branch of magic. She’d _seen_ his, so there wasn’t any need for secrecy… and he’d be doing what Lupin couldn’t…

If there was anything Severus treasured, it was doing just that.

“Are you asking me to?” Severus asked Ariel softly.

She hesitated, and then nodded. The light in her eyes was slowly growing, like the fire in the hearth was inside of her.

Severus placed the book on table. “Then let’s start — now.”

Ariel granted him a dazzling smile, chasing away the remaining anxiety that lay within the lines of her face. She leapt up from the couch, whipping out her wand from her sleeve as Severus followed, taking his place in front of his desk. He was too tired to give a demonstration, and Ariel had seen countless examples already — her capability wasn’t the issue.

“Show me how you prepare yourself,” Severus said, gesturing for Ariel to continue when she cocked her head at him, confused. “I want to watch in order to correct you.”

“I don’t think you can fix _this,”_ Ariel said under her breath. He went to ask what she meant by that, but he bit his tongue and stayed put instead.

Ariel positioned herself, her wand raised in front of her. She let her eyes slide closed — she appeared terribly uncomfortable. Severus wondered if it was because of her previous failures, or because he was watching her. 

“You need to lessen the tension in your body.” He lightly pressed against her shoulders. “Relax, Ariel.”

She dropped them down. “Like this?”

“Good,” Severus nodded. “now just… focus. Let your mind find itself.”

She closed her eyes again, her breathing slow and deep. Severus nodded in approval even though she couldn’t see it, and moved back towards his desk. He saw when it began to go south — her eyelids fluttered, and the corners of her mouth pulled down just as it opened to say the incantation.

“Stop.” Severus reached forward and turned her around. “I can see already your mind isn’t focusing. What happened? What changed?”

“I… I was trying to think of the first day Harry came to Hogwarts.” Ariel bowed her head, clearly ashamed. “We had fun that day… it’s one of the happiest memories I have. I was focusing on that… but then… our conversation the other day kind of… ruined it.”

Severus stayed silent, but wrapped an arm around her shoulders so that her head was leaning against his sternum. Ariel sighed against him, facing away so that he couldn’t see her expression, but he didn’t think he needed to.

“Harry’s pulling away,” Ariel said in a very small voice, “and I don’t know how to fix it anymore. I’m afraid… that I’ll lose him, and I don’t want that. I’m his big sister… I should be looking out for him, but how can I do that if he won’t let me in?”

He gripped her shoulder the way he had touched the boy’s.

“Fear can be good, Ariel,” Severus said quietly. “Fear can keep you alive, but you cannot let it control you.”

“It’s not just _fear,”_ Ariel muttered. “It’s like… if I’m not hurting myself, I’m hurting everyone around me.”

Severus’ heart twisted around itself. He kept hearing echoes of himself in his girl, and it was beginning to unnerve him.

“That's not true.” He took her face in his hands, running the pad of his thumb over her cheek. “You're not responsible for the emotional turmoil of others, Ariel.”

“Yeah, I am.” She looked away. “Tom…”

His heart stuttered. It always seemed to come back to him; he was like a virus, never fully cleansed from her system. At this point, however, it was almost like Riddle had become a safety net for Ariel.

“My girl, will you ever stop clinging to him?” Severus asked, giving her a long look. “You need to let him go. He would have wanted this - to see you suffer, unable to enjoy any happiness you have. That is how he wins, child.”

“I’m not _letting_ him do anything!” Ariel wriggled out of his arms, her thin face suddenly furious. “You think I _like_ feeling like this?”

“I think a part of you does,” he said honestly. “I think you're holding on because you're afraid to let go.”

She sputtered. “That’s… that's ridiculous! Why would I —”

“Is it?”

“I don't _like_ feeling this way, Dad!” There were no tears in her eyes, which meant Severus was right. “I keep trying… that's why I wanted the Occlumency first! I could do it if… if I somehow… Merlin, I don't know!”

“You’re _letting_ him in because he created that doubt, Ariel.” Severus’ voice hardened, and some of the anger leaked out of her face, pooling around herself, like she was ready to take it back any second. “Everywhere the Dark Lord goes, death and destruction follow — everything he _touches_ crumbles. He’s seeped into the memories you’re desperately trying to use in your favor, and _he_ planted that uncertainty — it’s not yours. I know it’s… difficult, my girl, I’m not denying that, but you have to reach a little deeper to find what you need.”

Her mouth opened and closed several times.

“I can be happy,” Ariel finally said in a smooth, toneless voice. “I’m not _denying_ it.”

“Then show me.” Severus crossed his arms expectantly, smirking smugly on the inside.

“Fine!” She bristled. “I will!”

Severus stepped away as Ariel’s mouth set in a tight line — there was fire in her face, no longer hiding behind her eyes. Ariel needed a flame to burn away the webs. Lupin couldn’t have known that, but Severus did, because he’d been forced to do the same thing. He didn't want her to learn that yet.

 _“Expecto…”_ She took a deep breath. _“Expecto Patronum!”_

There was a burst of silver from the end of Ariel’s wand, and she jumped back, obviously startled. Her face broke into a grin, and as the smoke disappeared, Ariel threw back her head and laughed.

Severus could've listened to that sound forever.

“Did you _see_ that?” Ariel threw a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her giggles. “Merlin’s beard, did you _see?_ I — I can do it!”

 _Take that, werewolf._ “Very good, my girl.”

“Holy fucking _shit,_ I’m not completely useless!”

Severus winced — he would never be used to hearing her talk like that, even if his own swearing put hers to shame. _I’ve created a monster._

Before he could proctor her to try again, Ariel threw her full weight at him, her thin arms nearly sending his organs flying out of his throat — or at least, that’s what it _felt_ like. How could someone so short be so _strong?_

“My senses tell me you're pleased,” Severus said stiffly, trying to detangle her from around him. _“Ow.”_

“Sorry, sorry.” Ariel gave a breathless little laugh, releasing him. “I’m just… happy.”

“I gathered that much,” he said dryly.

She whacked him lightly with her wand. “Don’t ruin it.”

Severus snorted, but watched contentedly as Ariel raised her wand again, her hands reaching up to pass through the dazzling light before it disappeared. He’d never had the anticipation of watching the wisps form into an animal — the doe had simply come bounding out of his wand one day. He’d given up until that point… he’d tried again to amuse himself, really.

Watching his daughter now, however… it made him feel nostalgic, in an aching sense. When was the last time Severus had heard Ariel laugh like she was now?

He wouldn’t tell her about Granger and Minerva’s plan — not tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Shoutout to the lovely lamentthebard for beta-ing (finally got one of those - what a time to be alive). <3
> 
> I don’t really have anything to offer than my love to all of you who are still around, and to beseech you to leave a review, like I do every chapter, lol. X


	79. Conquest of Spaces

Harry wasn’t sure how he’d ended up mediating a study session, but he was.

He had thought it peculiar when Severus had ducked from the High Table just as Professor McGonagall had whisked Harry’s sister away at the end of breakfast, but now he knew why — he wished he had followed. Ariel had found him just after his Charms class, and if she hadn’t been so beside herself, Harry might’ve found the situation rather funny.

Harry really didn’t think being tutored by Hermione was the worst thing that could’ve happened to Ariel, but apparently _she_ thought it was. Damon had eventually arrived, at some point between her ravings, to drag her away to Pomfrey for a Calming Draught. Harry hadn’t been able to pinpoint whether the source of her outrage stemmed from being helped by someone a year younger, or because it was simply Hermione — Harry supposed it was probably both. Hermione _could_ be very bossy, but he didn’t think she’d act like she did with him and Ron around his sister. Hermione always got a funny look on her face when they talked about her, like she didn’t know enough about Ariel and wished she did. Ariel looked like she caught a whiff of something nasty if Harry mentioned Hermione; she acted like Ron had before they’d become Hermione’s friend, only Ariel had never really accepted her.

Ariel was sitting to Harry’s left, ready to blow up a bookshelf. Hermione was at the opposite end of the table they were all sitting at in the library, her face a mixture of fierce determination and nerves. Harry didn’t know much about girls, but he wondered if this was how he and Draco would act if one of them was forced to tutor the other, although this was… somehow worse. He could’ve cut the tension in the air with a butter knife. It was pretty clear that Ariel was planning on making this as difficult as possible until Hermione quit, but his sister obviously didn’t know Hermione very well if she thought that. It was going to take more than glares to shake her off.

“Should we get started?” Hermione asked. Her voice was steady, but shrill.

“Let’s not and say we did,” Ariel said, her glare still focused on the books.

“I can’t do that,” Hermione replied evenly.

“You could — _I_ know the material.”

“That’s why we’re _here,_ isn’t it?” Hermione asked, her voice leading Ariel to agree. Harry tried to warn her to retract that, but his sister’s eyes snapped to Hermione’s like a rubber band.

“I don’t know why _we’re_ here,” Ariel said coolly. “I _know_ this already.”

Hermione’s brown eyes glowed. “Apparently, Professor McGonagall disagrees.”

“Professor McGonagall obviously doesn’t realize that I have more important things going on at the moment.” Ariel’s expression hardened — it looked like envy, in a strange light. “But you’d know all about _that,_ right Hermione?”

Harry decided that if there was a time to intervene, this would be one of them — that was why Hermione had asked him to come along, after all. “The sooner you start, the sooner you can get it over with, Ariel. Hermione’s volunteering _her_ time too, remember?”

Ariel glared at him mutinously. Her hands wrapped around the thermos filled with tea she’d brought — Harry had bought it for her when she was recovering from Riddle and kept spilling hot tea in her bed. Hermione kept warily eyeing it, as if Ariel was going to chuck it at her any second now.

“I think that’s a great idea, Harry.” Hermione gave him an agreeing nod, and opened up the Transfiguration textbook with a loud _thunk!_

Ariel sipped from the thermos like she wanted to punch it in the face.

“So...” Hermione traced over the book with her fingertips, stopping when she found what she was looking for. “Professor McGonagall said to start with Animagi…”

Ariel snorted. “Yeah, like I don’t know anything about _that.”_

“Well, do you know _how_ to turn into an Animagus?” Hermione huffed. _“That’s_ kind of the idea.”

Her jaw set. “I know the process.”

“But do you know the _anatomy?”_ Hermione pressed; her posture straightened when Ariel didn’t immediately snap back the answer. “Do you know how to keep things from going horribly wrong?”

There was a long, pregnant pause; Harry could practically hear the air around his sister fizzling.

“No,” Ariel admitted in an annoyed voice. “because I don’t plan on becoming an Animagus, so there’s really no point.”

“You _do,_ because that’s the basis for _all_ Transfiguration.” Hermione said triumphantly, crossing her arms smugly. “If you don’t understand it from your own standpoint, how’re you going to manage Transfiguring _other_ things? You missed that entire unit, and I guess Professor Snape didn’t go over it with you…”

“He went over everything we were supposed to,” Ariel snapped.

“Apparently not,” replied Hermione, “or else we wouldn’t be here.”

Ariel’s nostrils flared as she fumed, mirroring Hermione’s posture. “We wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t _volunteered.”_

Hermione went a bit pink. “Professor McGonagall _asked_ me because I know it better than anyone in our year.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you do.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Hermione demanded in a very bossy voice, like she was a parent chastising her kid. Harry didn’t know how much help he could be, and didn’t think he would be able to do much good _now —_ Hermione had probably asked him for the extra security — but she seemed to be doing just fine without him at the moment.

“It _means_ I don’t want to be here!” Ariel hissed.

“Neither do I!” Hermione shot back.

“Good,” Ariel stood up, gathering her things, “then we’re agreed that this is a stupid idea.”

“No!” Hermione leapt up, her brown eyes frantic. “Professor McGonagall —”

“Will be disappointed?” Ariel slung her satchel over her shoulder. “Yes, I suppose she will be.”

Harry sighed, rising as well, and tried his best not to sound completely mental, like the two of them were acting. “Ariel, stop arguing and just get it over with; Hermione, stop engaging her, you’re setting yourself up.”

They both blinked back at him in shock, before Hermione’s face snapped back into simmering irritation. Ariel, however, dropped her satchel with a loud _crack_ against the table.

“I don’t _need this!”_ Ariel said angrily, her cheeks flushing crimson. “It’s _completely_ pointless — I’m _not_ falling behind because of what happened with Tom!”

Harry gave his sister a long, intense stare. He didn’t know how well it would work — he was trying to channel his Inner Snape. Hermione would be crushed if she had to tell Professor McGonagall it hadn’t worked out. She didn’t take failure… _well._

Her furious expression faltered, and Ariel fell back into the chair, glaring murderously at the tabletop. Hermione smiled gratefully at Harry from the corner of his eye — he was rather proud of himself for that one. Usually, it took an army — or just Snape — to calm his sister down.

“What do you need me to do?” Ariel grumbled to Hermione.

“Professor McGonagall says she wants me to evaluate your understanding of the concept first.” Hermione seemed to perk up at her reluctance.

Ariel massaged her temple. “Why can’t I just use a _book_ to catch up, then?”

“Is there a book that has everything in it you need to know?”

“You never know, Granger.”

“If you can find a book that covers everything you need help in, I’ll tell Professor McGonagall you don’t need me.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Great,” Ariel said, her chair making a loud _screech_ as she stood. “I’ll go find one right now.”

“You do that,” Hermione said, dropping her Charms textbook onto the table before shoving her Transfiguration book back into the satchel.

…Well, Harry had _thought_ he’d solved the problem. He gave Hermione an embarrassed, apologetic look as he stalked after Ariel, who was flouncing down the aisles behind the table they’d set up shop at.

“You’re acting ridiculous,” said Harry once they were out of earshot. “She’s trying to _help.”_  

“Am I?” Ariel asked nonchalantly, her fingers touching the binding of the books as her dark eyes swept over the titles. “I thought it was going rather well.”

“She’s _my_ best friend —”

“Right; you’re a _team._ I _forgot.”_

“— and you should treat her better than that,” Harry finished. “If not for the sake of being decent, then for mine.”

“She’s trying to prove something,” Ariel muttered, her eyes flitting back to the table. “It’s like… if she cares enough, she _needs_ approval from whoever it is, and won’t stop until she gets it. That’s the only reason she’s doing this.”

Harry blinked. Was _that_ how his sister’s mind worked? It sounded… like something Severus would say. He wondered if it was something Ariel had just picked up on, or if she genuinely believed it.

He couldn’t help but think he was somehow to indirectly blame for this. Harry had purposefully left Ariel out of the Pettigrew Hunt to have at it alone with Hermione and Ron, but Ariel hadn’t been treating _Ron_ any differently. Maybe that was because they’d always gotten along well, and Fred and George liked Ariel a great deal, but Harry couldn’t help but think something else was the reason behind all of his sister’s hostility towards Hermione.

“Hermione doesn’t have ulterior motives,” Harry said defensively. “Not _everything_ is a conspiracy theory.”

“Granger is a know-it-all, Harry,” Ariel said, swirling around to face him. “I don’t like her, alright?”

“Look, Hermione is _trying_ here.” Harry grabbed her arm. “She was afraid to come, but she didn’t want to tell Professor McGonagall no.”

“It would’ve made me like her infinitely better if she had.”

“Just give her a _chance,_ Ariel.”

“To tutor me?” Her mouth twitched. “Or to be _nice?”_

“Ideally, both.” Harry sighed. “Hermione’s right — it’s to help _you,_ so stop fighting her every time she opens her mouth. The faster you learn whatever McGonagall wants, the sooner it’ll be over.”

Ariel bit her lip and looked away — there was a flash of guilt in her eyes Harry had been waiting to see. Mindlessly, Harry turned to look at the books tucked away on the shelves as well, the gold binding on one in particular catching his eye. He slid it off of the shelf, turning it over in his hands.

“What’s that?” his sister asked in a much more reserved voice.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know — the color just caught my eye.”

 _“Euphoria.”_ Ariel read the title aloud, holding her hand out to receive the book as Harry passed it to her. “Well, the name’s just as flashy — I’m surprised it’s in English. Wonder what it’s about.” She flipped it open, scanning the pages like she _had_ found a book that included all of Hermione requirements.

“Hello, friends,” Damon’s voice greeted from behind Harry’s head — he didn’t bother turning around. Ariel’s demeanor immediately brightened, though, and she waved him over. Harry had a feeling he wasn’t here to do damage control like he was.

“It’s about time,” Ariel growled mockingly. “I thought you’d found something better to do.”

“Other than listening to Granger lecture you?” Damon rolled his eyes, as he leaned on the shelf opposite Ariel. “In theory, I _could_ be practicing for Quidditch right now, but that sounds dreadfully boring compared to what you’ve got going on here.”

“You’re a pal.” She handed him the book, pointing to the text. “I’ve found something much better than Transfiguration anyway — look!”

He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “This has nothing to do with what you actually _need_ to be doing, does it? Hermione looks like she’s about to break the table back there.”

“Sure it does.” Ariel grinned. “It’s just extracurricular.”

“What is it?” Harry frowned — it had just been a random book. If he’d somehow given Ariel more ammunition _not_ to cooperate with Hermione, they were in trouble.

“It looks like a book on channeling bad energy.” She pointed to something as Damon began to read it over. “Or bad _memories,_ rather. It could help with the Patronus…”

His eyebrows furrowed. “But you said you finally got something the other day, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Ariel said, her expression thoughtful, “but it could _help…_ if the books does what it says it does.”

“You don’t have half of these ingredients,” Damon said as he looked up.

“I have a _potions master_ as a father.” Ariel grabbed the book back from him. “I have an _arsenal.”_

Harry looked up, hoping for a sign from heaven that would help him here. He was trying — he really was — but it seemed that if Ariel didn’t want something, she made sure she wasn’t going to have to do it. He quickly tried to project just _how_ upset Hermione would be if she let down McGonagall… she’d be a puddle for at least a week… and then after that, he and Ron would finally be able to cheer her up a bit, but she’d talk about it incessantly, trying to validate that she hadn’t failed —

Ariel hugged the book to her chest, an excited grin on her face as she raced back towards the table. Damon was close behind her, and Harry trudged after them, trying to appear wearied by all of this, but he was just as curious. Could the book help them get _rid_ of memories entirely? What if it could erase the ones that followed him like a shadow?

Harry stopped — he hated hearing his mum and dad like _that…_ but it was still _them._ Would he give that up, if he had the chance to?

He shook his head. He was getting too far ahead of himself. After all, a random book he’d thought was _shiny_ couldn’t be the end all to the dark spots in his mind.

Ariel was setting down the book in front of Hermione when Harry reached them, his heart beating as fast as a rabbit’s. 

Hermione did not look impressed with the book as she skimmed it over. “This has nothing to do with Transfiguration.”

“I already said that,” Damon said under his breath.

“No, but it _does_ have to do with Defense… sort of.” Ariel slid back into her seat.

“You don’t _need_ help with Defense,” Hermione said, nettled. “Professor McGonagall said your marks were high in that class!”

“That’s because they are,” Ariel said haughtily.

“So then _why_ do you _need_ this _spell?”_ Hermione’s nose wrinkled. “It’s all… mind nonsense. It sounds like something Professor Trelawney cooked up.”

“It could… help us out.” Harry said before Ariel could snipe something else rude back. “With the Dementors and the memories and all… if it’s legitimate, I guess.”

“Well, if it’s in the library, of _course_ it’s genuine, Harry,” said Hermione, who sounded offended that he’d insinuated that a book _couldn’t_ be reliable.

“It’s simple enough, anyway,” Damon said, flipping through the pages, over Ariel’s shoulder. “There’s just one thing we might not have – a talisman.”

“I have a talisman,” said Hermione.

Three pairs of eyes blinked back at her in shock.

“That sounds like you’re offering, Granger,” Damon said wryly. “Why do you have one, anyway? You don’t need them until sixth year, I think.” 

“I wanted to be prepared,” Hermione said, averting her eyes. “You never know… after everything that’s happened. I picked up some extra supplies before we started this year.”

“So can we use it?” Harry asked, his tone a bit more eager than he would’ve liked.

Hermione bit her lip. “On one condition.”

Ariel’s eyes shot up. _“Conditions?”_

“You have to cooperate with me when it comes to tutoring.” Hermione lifted her chin. “And when we’re finished, you have to tell Professor McGonagall I did an exemplary job.”

Harry and Damon exchanged a wide-eyed look. Ariel’s jaw set tightly, and she snapped the book shut so fast that it sounded like a whip being brandished.

 _“You see?”_ Ariel pointed at her. “I knew it! I _knew_ you had a motive!”

“I don’t,” Hermione said innocently, but Harry could tell she was lying by the way her voice wavered.

“What’d McGonagall promise you?”

“She didn’t promise me _anything!”_

“Bull _shit –”_

“It’s not _my_ fault you don’t trust anyone!” Hermione finally snapped. “I don’t need you berating me for doing something _nice!_ I’ll take the disappointment, but I’m pretty sure _you’re_ still going to be struggling to keep up, so do us both a favor and let it go already!”

Ariel looked like a deer caught in headlights for a split second before it twisted back into a blank stare. Harry wasn’t surprised – he _had_ tried to warn Ariel not to be difficult, and Hermione could be a good liar when she wanted to be. He made a note to ask her what McGonagall had _really_ said later. Damon, on the other hand, looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh.

“Fine,” Ariel finally said after a long moment of silence. “Are you joining us too, then?”

Hermione blinked. “Is that an invitation?”

“‘Course it is.” Harry said quickly before his sister could retract it.

“The last time we did mind magic like this,” Damon said, giving Ariel a pointed look, “you went catatonic.”

“Only for an hour or so, and by _your_ suggestion.” Ariel waved him off. _“Look!_ You can show _memories —_ it reminds me of our scars. Doesn’t it, Harry?”

It _did_ sound interesting. He peeked over Ariel’s shoulder, reading the spell over to himself. They needed monkshood… a white candle… a wooden box?

“Blocking bad memories…” Ariel trailed off, a thoughtful expression on her face. _“Blocking…_ that could really help with the Patronus…”

“You need moonlight,” Damon said. “It’s been bright — the full moon is soon, isn’t it?”

Harry and Ariel exchanged a look.

“Looks like it,” Harry said nonchalantly. “And I know the perfect place we can get some without getting caught.”

* * *

Severus was acting weird, or weirder than usual, when Ariel found him.

He’d been acting oddly skittish since their Patronus lessons, which was a new one from what Ariel could recall. Her dad didn’t display nervousness like normal people did, because he operated on Severus Frequency, so he’d snap. He _wasn’t_ snapping at everyone, however, which led to a whole new level of Strange Things Dad Did When He Was Upset.

Ariel assumed it had to do with Sirius and Remus and Pettigrew. Her father hadn’t said much on the matter to her, but she supposed that finding out how backwards he’d been about the whole thing must’ve shaken him a bit. It didn’t matter much to Ariel how he dealt with it as long as he wasn’t taking it out on her or Harry.

Right now, however, he seemed to be hiding in his classroom, which he tried to spend very little time in.

“Dad?” she called, knocking on the door.

“Do _not_ enter,” his voice barked, muffled through the wood. “I don’t want you in here.”

Ariel blinked, a bit shocked. “Hello to you, too.”

She heard her father mutter something and then, in a much less hostile tone, he said: “There are deadly levels of aconite in here. I don’t want you anywhere near them.”

“Aconite?”

“Wolfsbane, for your dogfather.”

She bit back a retort — he didn’t sound like he was in a banter kind of mood right now.

“So, what?” Ariel crossed her arms and glared at the door. “It’s _alright_ for _you_ to be around lethal amounts of aconite?”

“I am a _potions master.”_

“You should have someone in there with you in case something goes wrong.”

“Me, myself, and _I_ are just _fine.”_

Ariel really wanted to ask him what was wrong, or if it was just the fact that Remus needed something and Severus had to give it to him, but she needed to get going, and it was her job to get the monkshood and a wooden box for the spell.

“Dad,” Ariel sighed, bracing herself. “I need monkshood.”

“For _what?”_ He sounded like she’d asked him to formally adopt Harry or something.

“For a project.”

 _“What_ project?” he sounded extremely annoyed about this. _“I_ didn’t assign you anything.”

“Hermione.”

He went silent.

Ariel briefly fumed at the door. He’d known McGonagall was going to make her have tutor-time with Hermione, and he’d avoided it because he’d known Ariel would hate it. She was angry at _her father,_ so much, but it still irked her that this had been put together behind her back so quickly.

“Take what you need from the cupboard,” Severus finally called. “If you take anything else, I’ll know, and there’ll be hell to pay for it.”

Ariel didn’t doubt it, but she rolled her eyes. “Thanks.”

She paused before heading off, wondering if she should go against his wishes, just to make sure he was alright, but decided not to test the waters. She could do that later, when she had a real Patronus to show him.

* * *

They met near the alcove of the Astronomy Tower Harry liked to use when he wanted to be alone. Ron had declined his invitation, reportedly caught in a tight chess match with Seamus. Hermione had told Harry he hadn’t moved since before dinner.

“What the hell is this?” Damon muttered as they got settled. “Pandora’s box?”

He was referring to the wooden box – which Ariel had said was her unused jewelry box – that was sitting in the middle of the four of them. Harry kept the Marauder’s Map sprawled out next to him, keeping one eye on it just in case anyone decided to pass by. It wasn’t curfew yet, but it was awfully close, and Harry wasn’t sure how Severus and Remus would react if they found them doing this. There wasn’t anything _dangerous_ about it – Hermione had triple checked. Harry could see Remus getting nervous, though, and Severus completely overreacting.

“It’s a place for the… bad memories,” Hermione said in a skeptical tone. She hadn’t told Harry directly, but he could tell that she thought it was all hogwash. Ariel was the most excited out of the whole lot of them, though, and if doing this meant smoother sailing for Hermione, Harry didn’t blame her for pulling through it.

“So the talisman is for the memories?” Harry asked as Hermione placed it inside the box. It was a simple silver pendent with a pointed star engraved in the middle.

She nodded. “They need to attach to something tangible. The spell isn’t clear about whether or not it’ll _completely_ remove them, which is why I’m skeptical.”

“I think it’s more of a cleansing ritual,” Damon said, lighting the candle he’d brought with the tip of his wand. “It’s… figurative, I guess, when it says _remove.”_

“Figurative or not, anything will help.” Ariel rubbed her hands together. “Are we ready?”

Hermione sighed, sharing a private look with Harry that told him she wasn’t expecting what he hoped for. “I suppose.”

The spell had dictated that whoever wanted to participate had to place their hands on the box, which contained the talisman and a smoking batch of monkshood inside. Hermione and Damon would say the incantation, and then, supposedly, it would work. It sounded far too simple to Harry, but he was willing to bet on it if it helped numb _some_ of the pain of his memories… or just one of them.

He placed his hands on the box opposite his sister’s. 

When Hermione and Damon spoke, his world exploded.

* * *

She could hear her mum screaming

_let me out let me out let me out_

and James was shouting —

_I don’t want to see this let me OUT_

When she turned, Harry — _real_ Harry — was standing next to her. He was as still as stone, like he was a ghost as well. Ariel didn’t recognize the room at all — or maybe she did, but couldn’t remember — because her name was spelled out with alphabet blocks along the dresser… her brother’s on the other….

The door flew open, and in stepped Lily, baby Harry in her arms. Ariel felt the overwhelming urge to race forward burning right through her chest, but she couldn’t move her feet. It was like she was glued to the floor.

“Not my babies…” Ariel heard her mum whisper, along with a string of something else she desperately tried to hear. She could’ve listened to her whisper forever and been happy, but there was a _thud_ downstairs that Ariel felt rattle her teeth.

Her mum crossed the room in one stride, and it was then that Ariel saw herself in the crib… no scar on her forehead, like there was now. Lily stroked her hair, rocking Harry with her other arm, and Ariel wondered why she didn’t remember _that_ when the Dementors came close… just that one shred of light, of Lily touching her and crooning and telling her everything was going to be alright…

She watched her mum holding them both against her for what felt like an eternity, and then, there was a cold, high shout from downstairs.

_“Avada Kedavra!”_

Ariel turned to look at her brother, but his eyes were far away, like he’d gone somewhere else and left her behind. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but Lily was screaming James’ name, tearing her from Harry’s face. She swung Harry into the crib beside baby Ariel, and started shoving furniture against the door. Even though Ariel hadn’t _seen_ James die, hearing him was somehow… worse; his body would lie out in the hallway, separated from their mum… he hadn’t been with them when they’d died… he’d thought they might have a chance, and he’d never know –

Lily braced herself against the crib. She was crying, her green eyes wide in terror, and Ariel felt her heart stutter. Fear was what she was feeling, but bravery was what she was _doing –_ she was –

Ariel counted Voldemort’s footsteps, because each one was another second spent with her mum, alive. She savored each sound, each scrape across the wood, and she hated herself for it, because her mum was scared and had no idea that her daughter and son were watching, terribly frightened and knowing what was coming next, unlike her, who didn’t know that by dying, she’d be saving them…

_let me out let me out please let me out_

The door burst open, and her mum fell to her knees.

Ariel screamed as loud as she could. She wanted it to stop now, she couldn’t watch, she didn’t want to, she wanted to –

_make it stop I don’t want to see_

“Not them, not my children, please, not my children!” Lily fell to her knees in front of the crib.

She couldn’t see Voldemort’s face underneath the hood of his cloak. “Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside.”

 _You silly girl…_ that’s what Tom had called her.

“No! Please, take me instead… not my children, take me!” Lily pleaded, and Ariel wanted to cover her eyes — she looked at Harry, but his eyes were only for their mother, his face a kaleidoscope of her own —

“Stand aside… stand aside…”

“Please, have mercy!”

Voldemort then did something Ariel didn’t know how to define — he _hesitated._ For a split second, Ariel was filled with a thrill of hope that he _wouldn’t…_ it was stupid, but she savored every second of that silence, until —

_“Avada Kedavra!”_

Her mum hit the floor, her eyes wide and unseeing. The same pair of eyes standing next to Ariel were doing the same, only there was a touch of something else that she didn’t want to name, because naming it would make it real, and this wasn’t real anymore — it was only a memory…

Voldemort pointed his wand straight at baby Harry in the crib.

 _“Avada Kedavra!”_ he shouted, but it was replaced with a high pitched shriek, the sound of a soul being ripped from one’s body… like how he’d screamed with Quirrell…

The green light blinded her, and she wished it would take her with it as it faded. Voldemort was gone, after that, and Ariel’s chest roiled. The little versions of themselves were whimpering in the crib…

Ariel stared at her mum’s body on the floor, wondering how long it had laid there before anyone had moved it. Sirius had come, hadn't he? He’d gone after Wormtail… Remus said he wouldn't have known where they were…

There was a steady _thud thud thud_ coming up the stairs, and Ariel’s heart shoved its way up her throat.

_no no no NO NO NO_

She turned to send a panicked look to Harry, but he was gone. Petrified, Ariel tried screaming again, her hands kneading in her hair as she desperately tried to jolt herself back to the cool floor of the alcove.

The footsteps stopped outside the door for a long moment, like he was waiting for something.

“Lily?” her father called, like he was afraid to hear the sound of his own voice.

_please make it stop make it stop stop STOP_

The door creaked open, and standing in the doorway was her dad. He was younger, and he wore robes that were somehow darker than his black teaching ones, and much fancier.

He made a hushed, choking noise, and then, he _wailed —_

Ariel held her hands over her ears as he collapsed against the doorframe. She didn’t want to hear this — she wanted her _real_ dad, not the broken man reaching for her mum’s body.

Her father didn’t look at the little versions of herself and her brother once — not even a flicker of acknowledgment in their direction.

She fell against the wall and buried her face in her knees.

* * *

Severus was really trying; he was trying to maintain control over the idea that he didn’t care about what Harry thought of him, but nothing was _working._

Occlumency obviously could only do him so much good; it could _mask_ so that _Harry_ didn’t know what Severus was suffering through, but it didn’t erase it all together. Ariel had gotten rather good at poking holes through it, knowing what his emotions were doing to him without displaying them. It annoyed him, on some distant plane, but he supposed he could deal with the girl as long as the _boy_ didn’t start catching on.

This wasn’t… good. Whatever had taken hold needed to be obliterated, _immediately._ He’d been cold and unfeeling to that boy all those years, and had overcome that for Ariel’s sake, but he hadn’t counted on it… _taking_ root. Whatever Severus… _felt_ was like a taproot he couldn’t yank hold of — the weed kept growing back; the notion that Harry wasn’t… annoying and insufferable — which he wasn’t — but that didn’t fucking _matter…_

Something need to be done about this, and he didn’t know what. It frightened him, that he didn’t know what to do. It terrified him that the boy was slowly inching away, and Severus knew in his heart of hearts that it was _his_ fault, because he’d left Harry with those fucking Muggles trying to save Ariel for himself…

Severus could face the Dark Lord with one hole in his heart — he could disguise Ariel as whatever Lily had left him as. Harry was… it was… simply too much…

He fumed over this as he brewed Lupin’s potion, like he always did. Brewing for the werewolf already irritated him enough, so he didn’t feel too pathetic for brooding while doing so. Severus locked the door on those days so Ariel wouldn’t find him like this. Part of him wanted to tell her how he felt, but he could only imagine how she’d react — something containing tears and elation Severus didn’t want or understand. It was _weakness_ to not be able to keep Harry at arm’s length…

(Dumbledore believed love to be the most powerful force of all)

Why did he _have_ to _care —_ that _boy —_

He’d go and speak to Dumbledore about it, he decided on as he poured the Wolfsbane into a goblet. Something in the back of his mind said to talk to Ariel instead of trying to find answers to questions he was trying to invalidate, but Severus couldn’t… do that. Ariel had enough emotional baggage to sift through anyway. She’d finally broken through the walls the Dark Lord had established inside her mind — Severus couldn’t let his own bring her down again.

He considered this while waiting for Lupin to come and take his potion — he felt like he was ten years younger, suddenly, and impatiently standing by his desk as a four-year-old Ariel dawdled in her bedroom. The thought tugged at something Severus was trying to forget, and he groaned. Lily’s children were going to be the death of him.

As the minutes dragged by, Severus found the nostalgia waning. He had things to do (things he loathed as much as he hated Lupin), but he wasn’t the werewolf’s personal _potioneer._ His services were only to ensure that Lupin didn’t harm any of the little pustules — or his girl, or his —

Fucking hell, he needed to do something about this.

He grabbed the goblet and stormed up to the main hall, ready to give the wolf a piece of his mind. Had he _forgotten?_ If Severus had been so careless, they’d be looking at a fucking body count — idiot. Severus didn’t care _what_ Dumbledore told him, Lupin was _dangerous_ as a wolf, _and_ as a man.

Granger mowed him down the corridor before the Defense office, spilling the potion all over the wall. If Severus hadn’t been so stunned, he might’ve Hexed her instinctively instead of swearing loudly, but luckily for her, blistered ears were the only physical damage she’d be suffering.

“Miss _Granger,”_ Severus snarled, picking himself off the ground. “what in _Merlin’s name_ are you –”

“Professor Snape!” the girl bleated, grabbing him by the arm. “Professor, you have to —”

Severus recoiled instinctively. “ _Granger —”_

The girl began to say something, but from behind her, Severus could a glimpse of something big and _black_ coming straight towards them. He assumed _that_ was what was causing her to babble whatever nonsense wasn’t quite reaching his ears, and so he pulled Granger behind him roughly, pointing his wand down the corridor.

It was —

 _“Black?”_ Severus snarled. What the fuck was _happening —_

Black-the-dog turned into his human form; Granger shrieked in surprise. “It’s about fucking time, Snivellus, Jesus.”

“What are you _doing_ here? You’re going to — for Merlin’s sake, you _idiot,_ you’re going to get _caught!”_

“I doubled back – Wormtail’s still here.”

Severus felt his hands go very cold. _“What?”_

“He led me on a false trail.” Black’s face darkened. “I’m going to put his balls in a vice when I find him.”

“So you decided to come inside the _school?”_ Severus hissed. “There really must be absolutely nothing rattling around inside your skull for you to think _this_ is a _good idea!”_

“I came to find Remus, you tosser.” Black rolled his eyes. “And tell Dumbledore… and you… I suppose. I caught Wormtail just outside of Hagrid’s hut, but I lost him again. If we pull together, we’ll find him before sunrise, if he hasn’t _really_ run off into the Forest this time.”

Severus felt the overwhelming urge to smash his head against the wall. If Pettigrew _was_ here… he could be taken care of on _his_ terms — the way he’d _wanted_ to take care of Black.

He bit back a vicious smile.

“You’re completely useless!”  Severus snarled. “You had _one job —”_

“He won’t hurt the kids — he doesn’t have anything to gain from it.” Black shoved passed him. “We need to tell Remus and the Headmaster — if we’re quick enough, we can find him in no time.”

“Er, Mr. Black?” Granger squeaked from behind the both of them.

They both looked down at her — she was shaking terribly, but her jaw was square.

“Merlin, kid, it’s Sirius.” Black shuddered. “Mr. _Black_ is my father.”

“You need to —” Granger took a great gulp of air. “something's wrong with Harry and Ariel.”

Severus felt his heart drop down to the dungeons, an eerie sense of dread falling over him, like a veil.

“Harry?” Black asked hoarsely. “What happened, Hermione?”

 _“Where?”_ Severus asked in a voice he could feel rattling the walls.

“Near the Astronomy Tower.” Granger said, taking a few steps in that direction, as if to make sure they were actually going to follow.

He was fifty paces ahead of her and Black by the time they’d collected their wits about them.

* * *

Harry… didn’t recognize this place. At all.

They were sitting beneath a giant arch made out of stone. It rang distant bells in Harry’s mind — he’d _seen_ this place before, maybe in pictures, but he’d never _been_ here. Around them was a circle of Muggle traffic — cars blowing their horns and screeching tires, and the circular road going around broke off into streets straight ahead. There were words being shouted and spoken all around them, words Harry couldn’t understand, but recognized, in a distant way he didn’t quite understand.

Not that any of this made _sense —_ he’d never sat underneath a giant arch with ancient carvings covering in it before, and the structure itself was _enormous._ Harry definitely wouldn’t have forgotten something like _that._

They were older, too, but not by much. The biggest difference was that this other-Harry seemed to be taller than Ariel now, and Ariel’s hair was shoulder-length, instead of halfway down her back.

“I think we’re stuck here,” other-Harry said to Ariel.

“If we’re lucky those Muggle things — the cars — will take us out,” she replied, her mouth twitching. Other-Harry laughed, but he quickly sobered and looked back to her. Ariel glanced back at him, and then down at her hands. There was an an unopened paper bag in her lap, a satchel beside her.

“Hermione said Muggles get stuck driving around,” other-Harry said. “I think pedestrians have a better shot.”

“At getting hit by a car, or getting caught?” Ariel snorted.

“You know, it would be pretty anticlimactic if _that’s_ how you went out.” Other-Harry elbowed her. “We’ve been on the run from…” he trailed off, his face suddenly solemn. Harry wondered what he’d remembered — real-Harry sure didn’t.

“Do you think any of them followed,” other-Harry asked quietly.

Ariel unrolled the paper bag and shrugged, retrieving a croissant. “Want one?”

Other-Harry shook his head. “Not really. I want to know what we’re going to do next.”

She went still. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t _know?”_

“No, Harry, I don’t.” Ariel ripped the pastry in two, shoving it between her teeth. “We had to get away, and we did. That’s all that matters right now.”

“You don’t think the Death Eaters could’ve followed us?” Other-Harry quirked an eyebrow. “Draco says Lucius has a home here — or more than one, I can’t remember.”

“Yeah, I’d love to see Death Eaters trying to finagle their way through Muggle Paris.” Ariel rolled her eyes. “It’s a fucking tourist hole, Harry. Can you imagine _Lucius Malfoy_ dodging flashing cameras and those loud French guys that try to sell everyone keychains and beer?”

Paris? They were in _France?_ Oh gods, they were — Harry could see the bloody Eiffel Tower in the distance when he turned… the arch they were sitting under… what was it called…

“There _are_ tracking spells,” other-Harry countered, appearing unimpressed. “They wouldn’t hesitate if they found us before the others did.”

“Tracking spells aren’t allowed over borderlines.”

“Do you think _Voldemort_ cares about _borderlines?”_

“I don’t know, Harry!” Ariel looked up at the sky — it was cloudless, tinged with pink as the sun began its descent in the distance. “Maybe he does! Maybe Tom Riddle has a deep reverence for wizarding border protocol, and will honor that.”

“Okay then.” Other-Harry crossed his arms. “Then what about your dad?”

A funny sort of look passed over her face, like her face was twisting in and out of pain.

“Nothing to say about him,” Ariel said quickly, with such precision that it felt like an arrow hitting its mark.

“He’s _got_ to be looking, Ariel,” other-Harry said in a rough voice. “He’ll find us eventually.”

“No, he won’t.”

“Yes, he _will,_ and when he does, you’re going to have to _ask him —”_

 _“Don’t!”_ Ariel looked away.

“He almost got _you_ killed! Us!”

She shoved the pastry back inside the paper bag and stood up, her eyes wild, like she was searching for an escape.

“France was… this was a terrible idea!” Other-Harry said loudly, grabbing her arm as he stood. “We should’ve waited —”

“There was _nowhere_ in Britain we could’ve waited!” Ariel snarled, slinging her satchel over her shoulder. “Voldemort would’ve found us if we hadn’t kept going!”

“So what? We keep _running?”_

“Until he backs off, yeah, we keep running.”

“No one knows where we are! What if they _do_ find us? They’ll have no idea…”

“They’re _not_ going to find us, because we’re not in _Britain_ anymore.” she hissed.

“You can’t just _run away_ from it, Ariel!”

“I’m not running away! I’m trying to get… I’m getting my bearings, alright? I don’t want to talk about — fucking hell!”

Her eyes were locked on something across the way — Harry followed her gaze, searching the throng of Muggles, until he caught sight of two _very_ familiar figures frantically trying to cross the street. Across the way, down on of the lanes that stretched out beyond the arch, Harry could see Sirius — who looked a hundred times better than he had the last time Harry had seen him — and Remus, shoving their way through the crowd.

Before Harry could see what other-Harry and Ariel were getting so frantic about — they were already running away in the _opposite_ direction — the vacuum light that had taken him from the memory of Halloween sucked him back, and everything went still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I don't know how the chapter happened, but it did, and even though it took foREvER, it was fun to write, so I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Please review - please. The past few weeks have been pretty rough and this story is the only thing that makes me smile some days. x


	80. Take it Back

Ariel couldn’t _see_ anything, but she could hear and feel, like currents underneath the swell of a wave.

This was getting annoying, really.

“No, _please —_ not, Harry, _please!”_

_Harry listen to me_

It wasn’t _her_ talking, but it sounded like her — her mouth wasn’t moving. Did she have one? She felt distant and undefined, like a small speck in the middle of space.

“I’m not going to make the same mistake twice, girl,” another voice said.

_stay with me_

She couldn’t see anything, but there was a feeling in her fingertips, like there was ice beneath them. A hum hung in the air; magic.

“You are a stupid girl, to die defenseless, and alone,” the voice said. “Tell me, girl, where is your Headmaster? Where are your parents, your godfather, your brother? Harry Potter is useless… as pathetic as you are.”

That voice… she knew that voice. Cold and high — _stand aside, you silly girl, stand aside —_ Tom Riddle — _if you think this is the proper way to protect him, you’re mistaken._

It _burned_ then, and the numb, floating feeling was gone, and she was being thrown, spinning faster and faster and faster —

mum it hurts, _dad_ it hurts please

_stay with me_

_stay_

Her world exploded.

* * *

Waking up in the hospital wing with no memory of how Harry had gotten there was getting rather old.

He was incredibly disoriented — his head felt disconnected from his neck, and for the first few seconds, Harry thought he was going to be sick. Hermione had once told him that if you felt that way, you probably had a concussion — could spells do that? Harry didn’t think they could, but at this point, he didn’t doubt it.

All he could think of was his mother, and the sun hiding behind the giant arch in France… they made him feel the same way, but Harry didn’t understand why. He didn’t know why he’d been sitting with his sister in another country, by themselves, looking weary and worn. There were other things he’d seen, but he couldn’t remember them now. They slipped out of his grasp, like dreams the morning after you woke up; little wisps and hints that they had happened, but this was different than dreams. Harry felt them reassembling inside of him, being locked away for safekeeping. The only thing he _could_ recall was the other-Harry memory… the place he had never been and the words he had never said…

Somewhere, amidst the confusion of it all, Harry wondered what had gone wrong. He should’ve known that even the simplest of spells would’ve backfired on him… had Ariel seen what he had? Had she watched them under the arch in France, and wondered what her father had done to make them run away?

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and tried to grab onto the other memories, although he was very glad he was finally awake — he didn’t know how much more he could’ve taken. He realized his hands were shaking at the same time he heard Dumbledore’s voice, a low mumble of words behind the curtains surrounding him. He was in a room by himself, no Ariel in sight.

“-should have been completely harmless, from what Miss Granger has shown me.” He sounded deeply troubled, which made Harry’s stomach perform another flip-flop.

“Then what the hell went wrong?” another voice responded, and Harry’s heart leapt out of his chest — _Sirius._

“I can only speculate,” Dumbledore replied, “though it is more likely than not that the severity of their reactions is due to the connection between them.”

“English, please.”

“Did your werewolf tell you _nothing?”_ Severus’ voice hissed, slicing through the air like a blade. “Or were you simply too preoccupied with making boneheaded decisions to listen to _any_ vital information about your godchildren?”

“Now you listen here, _Snivellus —”_

“Gentlemen, _please,”_ Dumbledore interceded in a quiet voice. “Bickering isn’t going to help the situation.”

“Neither is Black, apparently.”

“Yeah? And where were _you_ while they were doing this shit, Sniv?”

Severus didn’t respond to that. Harry could hear the _scrapescrapescrape_ of his footfall, and then the curtain pulled back. Harry flinched — everything sounded, louder, harsher, like there was something running beneath the air and pushing its way out. He was anticipating the white light flashing again — he’d counted it, even if he hadn’t stopped when it had come.

He wondered if seventeen meant anything.

Severus just stared at him, like he was Lazarus, back from the dead.

Harry blinked up at him, wishing he would say something. Severus looked like he’d been run over by a herd of elephants — the lines in his face were so sharp that they could’ve cut glass, and his breathing was harsh.

_“Albus,”_ he hissed after a long, uncomfortable pause. He pushed back the curtain farther with his other arm, but didn’t move otherwise.

Harry heard the swish of robes, and then Dumbledore appeared beside him. From behind him, however, Harry could see the top of another head — matted, black hair and familiar clothes that hadn’t changed once —

“Sirius?” Harry rasped. His voice throbbed with every syllable.

Severus quickly moved to the side, like he was afraid Sirius was going to brush up against him, and would burst into flames if he did. Sirius strode into the room, a smile playing along the edges of his mouth, but his eyes were tired and worried. He walked with a hunch — that was new, and Harry wondered if he’d hurt his back. It had only been a handful of days…

That didn’t matter — Harry felt like it had been weeks. In another, separate part of his head, Harry wondered if he’d caught Pettigrew, or lost him altogether, but that didn’t matter anymore. He’d seen his mum and dad die — heard James hit the ground and watched Lily crumble to the floor — and his sister was sitting next to him in the middle of another country an ocean away and he couldn’t _remember_ anything else _—_

“Jesus, why is he shaking like that?” Sirius muttered, sitting himself beside him. “Harry, kiddo, can you hear me?”

Harry nodded numbly. “I-I’m fine. I’m here.”

“Course you are.” Sirius frowned, running a thin hand through his hair. “Where else would you be?”

_France._ “I… don’t know.”

Then, like he’d remembered something, Severus’ head snapped to the right, and he hurried out of the room in a flurry of black robes. Dumbledore’s eyes followed him, and Sirius gave a small eye roll.

“You scared the piss out of me, Harry,” Sirius laughed shakily. “We found you out cold in that alcove… Remus said you like to hang out up there, but I think you might’ve taken things a little too far, yeah?”

Harry lowered his eyes, unable to laugh with the weight of his bewilderment pressing down on him. “What happened?”

Sirius sighed, and gave him a long look. “We… don’t really know. We were hoping you could tell _us_ that. How’re you feeling?”

“It was just a simple spell.” Harry rubbed at his eyes, avoiding his godfather’s question. “Why’re you here, Padfoot? I thought you’d gone after Wormtail.”

“He doubled back here… he must’ve started off, but decided against it. Peter’s got no idea what to do… Hogwarts is probably the only place he thinks he can hide, but we’ll get him.”

“Why would he come back _here?”_

“He’s scared — and he should be.” Sirius gave a twisted smile. “Fear makes people do irrational things, you know.”

“I’ve heard.” Harry looked back to Dumbledore. He was watching whatever Severus was doing, out of Harry’s vision, like he was waiting on him before he spoke again.

“You haven’t seen him on the Map?” Sirius asked. When Harry looked back at him, Sirius’ eyes were searching his.

“I haven’t used it much since you left,” he admitted. “There really hasn’t been a need to. I should’ve known better… kept watch just in case.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Sirius replied, shaking his head.

“Where was he hiding? Where’d you find him when you realized he came back to Hogwarts?”

“Hagrid’s hut. I thought there would be more of an issue… Hagrid has a dog, doesn’t he? I was surprised, really — the second the other dog caught sight of me, he took off.”

Harry tried picturing Padfoot and Fang going at it – he couldn’t. Even though Fang was significantly larger that Sirius’ Animagus form, he was nowhere near as bold. If anything, Hagrid probably would have adopted Padfoot on sight.

Then, before Harry could ask what had happened, and how he’d ended up in the hospital wing, Severus pulled back the curtain beside Dumbledore and stumbled into the room, like he’d just run a marathon.

“She’s not awake,” Severus panted. _“Why_ isn’t she _awake?”_

Dumbledore was frowning deeply. “She should have awoken when Harry did.”

“Then why _hasn’t_ she?” Severus shouted. The muscles in his face were taut, and he kept flinching, like he was being told that Ariel —

“I saw her,” Harry croaked. “She… didn’t come with me.”

Severus’ eyes snapped to him, like he was afraid to ask what that meant. Harry wasn’t sure himself — he didn’t know how to make this better… they all looked so upset, and he had no clue what was happening…

“What do you mean, Harry?” Sirius squeezed his shoulder. “Where was she? What happened?”

“I… saw more,” Harry replied; he swallowed. “We weren't together after the first one… I don't think she….”

“First one?” Dumbledore sat at the edge of his bed. “What did you see exactly, Harry?”

_No! Please, take me instead…_

_Mummy’s got you_

_We’ve been caught, Harry! Daddy’s in for it now_

_You don’t think the Death Eater could’ve followed us_

_Then what about your dad_

“Memories,” said Harry quietly. “I… I didn’t understand half of what I saw…”

“What _do_ you remember?” Dumbledore asked, his blue eyes searching Harry’s intently.

_Stand aside, you silly girl…_

Harry tensed. “Ariel and I… were together for the first… memory. She was right next to me. After that, she wasn’t. I don’t know why.”

Sirius’ grip tightened on his shoulder, but he turned to look back at Dumbledore. “Has this… happened before?”

He nodded. “When Ariel was younger, her mind would drift to Harry’s. We put measures in place to ensure it didn’t happen again unintentionally, but the cleansing ritual Miss Granger showed me seems to have… triggered some sort of adverse reaction.”

Severus’ head lifted, his dark eyes meeting Harry’s. They were glittering, like he was desperate to know something, but terribly frightened of it.

“What memory, Harry?” Severus asked, and his voice said he knew the answer already, and that Harry admitting that might kill him.

Harry lowered his head. “The one we hear when the Dementors are around.”

Sirius’ grip on him tightened, almost to the point where it felt painful, but Harry was only vaguely aware of it. He was entrapped by the expression on Severus’ face – it was like watching paper wither in a hearth, slowly, seeing the edges burn and flake away into ash. His skin turned grey, and his eyes had a faraway look in them, like he’d gone where Harry and Ariel had. Harry wanted to look away, but for some reason, he couldn’t.

“She’s stuck there,” Severus said — his lips did not move.

“We don’t know that for sure.” Dumbledore said gently, reaching out to put a hand on Severus’ shoulder, but he shook him off.

“She isn’t _waking up!”_ he said in a loud, strained voice. “What _else_ could it be, then? She has been obsessing on that memory for _months,_ and the Patronus hasn’t…”

“We don’t know that, Severus,” Dumbledore said more forcefully. “Ariel very well may be moving at a slower pace than Harry. You don’t know where her timeline differed.”

_“Timeline?”_ Severus repeated back, his eyes flashing. “You’re telling me she’s seen _more_ than that?”

“It’s likely… but we won’t know until Ariel awakens.” Dumbledore stroked his beard, a calculating look on his face. “You say there were other memories, Harry?”

He nodded – he knew there had been, besides the one in France, but he had no idea why he remembered _that_ memory and not any of the others. He recalled the flashes of light taking him there… but nothing else…

“There were.” It was all he said — he hoped they wouldn’t ask him anything more, but he knew that was wishful thinking.

“What?” Severus ground out, like his words had gotten stuck in-between his teeth. “What _else?”_

_he almost killed you_

Harry didn’t even bat an eye. “I don’t remember.”

“What do you _mean_ you don’t _remember?”_

“Watch it, Snape.” Sirius wrapped a protective arm around Harry’s shoulders. Severus looked like he wanted to rip it off with his teeth, but instead, he curled his lip.

“Magic like this is...” Dumbledore paused. “untraceable. You can’t identify it by name or source… it’s simply… unique to the caster.”

Severus left the room after that, throwing the curtain behind him. Harry stared after him, wanting to follow for some reason he could not name, like the lost memories he’d seen. He could hear his heavy breathing, and as Harry leaned forward, trying to see if he was about to come back, Dumbledore rose instead.

“Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy are just outside, if you’d like to see them,” he told him quietly. “Although, with Sirius here…”

“I’ll go and get Remus,” Sirius offered. “He’s got no bloody clue what’s going on, and he’s bound to be pissed that I’ve left him alone this long already. You alright for now, Harry? I’ll be right back — Remus will probably trample me trying to get here once I tell him…”

Harry swallowed and nodded. “You should go — I’m not going anywhere.”

“No,” Sirius said, kissing him roughly atop the head, “you’re not. I’ll be back in a pinch, kiddo.”

He left, leaving Harry alone in the bed. He sighed, turning to his right to find two silhouettes there he hadn’t noticed before. The first was hunched over, like he was sitting, with a hand steadily moving over what appeared to be the second person’s head. They were lying on a bed, like Harry was.

If Ariel ever woke up, would she tell Severus about France? Had she seen what Harry had? Or was she stuck, like Severus feared, in the memory of their parents dying? Would she ever break free?

Had Harry left her there? 

When the curtain pulled back again, Dumbledore was beckoning him forward.

* * *

Off in the distance, Ariel could hear the crunching of footsteps through the overgrown grass.

She was waiting for someone, but she didn’t know who, just yet. There was an older version of herself leaning against a tree, singe marks lining the front side of it, just like the trees at her rock. _This_ Ariel’s hair was much shorter — it barely brushed her shoulders, and her eyes were sharper, like they were constantly ready to survey the place she was standing in every time the wind tousled a branch. She was taller too — not as tall as her dad, but taller than her mum had been. Her chin could cut glass.

There was something different about the atmosphere — not just her other-self’s, but in general. It hung in the air in clumps - a heavy, oppressive feeling that made Ariel feel like her head was being shoved underwater. It was like all of the horribleness the Dementors created had been cast into the world.

The sky was dark, like other-Ariel’s eyes.

“Jesus, take your time, why don’t you?” other-Ariel called sarcastically. Her voice was sharp and clear, like hail on a windowpane.

“There’s _mud_ everywhere,” the last voice Ariel expected to hear snapped back. She wanted to move, rush past the tree line to prove herself wrong — that who she heard couldn’t _possibly_ be it, but Ariel couldn’t move _._ She was glued to this spot, unable to even lift her feet.

“You’re on the run, not on some European getaway,” other-Ariel snorted.

And then, _he_ broke into the clearing — Draco Malfoy, quite a bit taller, like other-Ariel, with the same bleach-blonde hair and sneer painted on his face, but something in his eyes was quite different. Ariel watched, astounded, as he stalked forward, pushing his disheveled hair out of his eyes before embracing other-Ariel tightly.

“Don’t I know it,” Draco muttered. “Your brother is waiting back at base.”

“Yeah, I figured.”

“You’re not going to see him?” he broke away, frowning. “He’s been gone for days.”

Other-Ariel gave a knowing smirk. “I know. You’ve had a count hidden under your pillow.”

Draco scowled. “Fuck off.”

“In a minute.” Other-Ariel turned, her eyes landing on something in the distance Ariel couldn’t make out herself. “I have something to do first.”

“Didn’t you just _see_ Severus?” Draco gave her a strange look, one Ariel didn’t understand.

Other-Ariel’s eyes flickered in the opposite direction, like she was searching for someone else now. “Not why I’m here, but _astute_ observation.”

“Fine.” Draco rolled his eyes before turning away. “Don’t stay too long — Damon gets nervous.”

“You all need to relax. I’m _safe_ here.”

“Not for long.”

He left other-Ariel with that, who almost seemed to flinch at the statement. The crack of his Apparition took Ariel by surprise, causing her to start where she stood — or rather, where she was _stuck._ She wanted to move and follow Draco to wherever he had gone, but other-Ariel seemed content to stand by the scorched tree a while longer.

Ariel looked around, trying to figure out where she was. It looked very familiar — was it the Forbidden Forest? It certainly _looked_ like it, but the atmosphere was so thick that she waved that thought away. Hogwarts had never feel like this — would _never_ feel so awful. Even though it was daytime, the shadows stretching across the ground appeared to be hiding something.

Other-Ariel’s nose twitched, like a dog who’d caught a rabbit’s scent.

Severus was standing behind her.

He was older, too, but in a different way. Other-Ariel looked like she was ready to start throwing Curses, but _this_ version of her dad had a… presence. The robes he wore were much fancier than his teaching ones - they were darker, somehow, and appeared to be made of silk.

They simply stared at each other. Other-Ariel’s hard, focused expression gave way, like her face was caving in from the inside out. Her dad’s hand moved, like he was going to reach out and touch her, but it spasmed and stayed locked by his side. His face was like a shadow at noon, slowly growing into something both deeply sad and fiercely proud.

They were both acting… weird. Ariel wanted to scream at them to _talk —_ to do _something —_ but her voice seemed to have gone from her.

“You came,” other-Ariel croaked finally; her voice was like sandpaper against skin.

“I will always come,” Severus responded in a deep, rumbling voice. Ariel could feel the ground vibrate beneath her, it was so low. 

“I know… it’s dangerous, though.” She twisted her wand in her hands. “It’s so close… I figured it wouldn’t hurt…”

“I would have come eventually, if now had been a bad time.”

“I was just… Draco said he… the papers.” Other-Ariel swallowed, and it sounded like it hurt. “Should I refer to you as Headmaster, now?”

Her dad’s shadow-like expression dissipated, and was replaced with something hard and set-apart.

“I didn’t want it,” Severus rasped. “I swore to Dumbledore I would protect the students…”

Other-Ariel gave him something like a smile, only bitter and twisted. “Your dream – saving children.”

“You knew this would happen eventually.”

“I don’t have to like it.” There was no anger there – only sadness and desperation.

Severus didn’t say anything for a long pause. “I don’t like it either, especially the… apart aspect.”

Other-Ariel looked away, and when she finally spoke, her voice was rough. “S'not anything worth worrying about. We’re fine.”

Ariel wondered why other-Ariel’s demeanor had shifted so much. She seemed almost _playful_ with Draco — who she _loathed —_ and with her father, there was only a quiet desperation hanging in the air between them, like they didn’t know how to act around one another.

“I should go,” other-Ariel said, her voice saying the opposite. “I just… wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Severus nodded, and slowly backed away. Ariel wanted to scream at him to stay — what was _wrong_ with the two of them —

“I miss you,” other-Ariel whispered.

Her father turned so quickly that he nearly lost his footing, but other-Ariel was already gone; the only sign she was ever there were the leaves spinning where she once stood.

She saw his face turn into moonlight when the light whirled her away.

* * *

_please wake up_

Severus grabbed her hand. If her eyes were open, he would've used Legilimency to bring her back. It would have been the only time he’d allow himself to use it on her.

Her face was peaceful, free of any telling emotions, for once. Severus wondered where she really was, even if physically, she was right here, lying in a bed; she was unable to know what he wanted so desperately from her. Would he always have to protect her from herself? Had he pushed her too much? Had he made her think, somehow, that Ariel _needed_ to cast a Patronus? Severus didn't give a shit if Ariel was never able to do it, but for some reason, the girl thought she began and ended with it.

What if he was never able to tell her that? Severus should have taught her Occlumency when she’d asked - what fucking good was a Patronus _now?_

_the spell should have been harmless_

He’d never told her that it didn't matter to him, that all that mattered was her, and her own happiness. That he —

Severus pressed her knuckle against his forehead, and closed his eyes. He felt her pulse, heard her shallow breathing, and waited for it to hitch.

_I adore you, please wake up_

* * *

“You have _got_ to be joking,” said Damon.

They were just outside the Great Hall, where Dumbledore had quickly ushered the three of them after Harry had risen from his bed. He wondered if Sirius and Remus had gotten back to the hospital wing yet, or if they were still in Remus’ office. Dumbledore seemed to have thought of that, which was why he was talking directly to Hermione at the moment. Severus hadn’t even followed them, which was a small miracle in itself — Harry figured he must still be waiting for Ariel to wake up.

Except, she wasn’t, which was why Harry supposed Dumbledore was having them do… this.

“It is imperative you aren’t seen,” Dumbledore said in a very serious voice. “Miss Granger knows all about it, but I need you boys to follow her explicit instructions, if you are going to save more than one life tonight. Do you understand?”

“More than _one?”_ Harry echoed, staring at the thing in Hermione’s hands.

“You’ll know when it’s time,” Dumbledore said, his blue eyes piercing. “It is a great responsibility, to hold someone’s life in your hands, my boy. I know you won’t take it lightly. Now go — I expect your godfather will be noticing your absence any moment now.”

Hermione held up the Time-Turner for them both to see as Dumbledore hurried in the direction of the infirmary, leaving Harry and Damon staring incredulously after him. Harry blinked in astonishment — it was a tiny thing, a simple hourglass hanging on a golden chain.

“A _Time-turner?”_ Damon hissed. _“Seriously?”_

“We haven’t got time to talk about it — I’ll explain in a minute,” Hermione said quickly, stretching the chain. “We’ve all got to be wearing it.”

“Well, that’s not going to work,” Harry said, frowning. “It’s much too small.”

Damon rolled his eyes, and with a small flick of his wand, the chain grew to almost twice the size. Hermione gave him an appreciative nod as she threw it around their necks.

Harry tried to yell out as the darkened corridor dissolved in front of him. He felt around for Hermione’s hand, holding it painfully tight as the world pulled him back — it was like the light had thrown him before, except instead of moving forward, Harry had the feeling that he was being pulled _back._ His voice seemed to have gone from him, left in the present, no longer with him wherever he was going —

He felt his feet slam back onto something solid, and then, like it had been pulled taut, the scenery around them snapped back into place. The hallway was no longer dark, but speckled with the remnants of the setting sun. The chain from the necklace was cutting into Harry’s neck, and as he turned to try and take it off, he accidentally smashed his nose into the back of Damon’s head.

_“Ugh,”_ Damon yelled, throwing the Time-Turner off. “That was _awful.”_

“Sorry to disappoint,” Hermione said dryly, detangling the chain from around herself and Harry.

Damon placed his hands on his knees. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Don’t be overdramatic.”

“I was just thrown through _time —_ I’m allowed to have a _moment.”_

_“Time?”_ Harry bleated back. “Hermione, what —”

“What did you think the Time-Turner _did?”_ Damon said under his breath.

“But — but that’s —”

“Not _here,”_ Hermione hissed, grabbing both their hands. She threw the three of them across the hall and into a broom closet. Harry nearly tripped over a mop as he hurtled inside; Damon hit his forehead on a shelf, howling as Hermione shushed him. Harry saw his hand twitch towards his wand, but Harry quickly stepped in-between them before Hexes started being thrown.

“We’ve gone back in time, like Damon said,” Hermione told him, peering through the small cracks in the door. “Two hours, to be exact.”

Harry pinched his leg, trying to wake himself up. Was he still under the effects of the Cleansing Spell? No… he hadn’t been about to talk to the figures in his memories, even the one of himself and Ariel in France.

“We’re… in the past,” Harry said slowly — saying it out loud didn’t help it make anymore sense. He still felt terribly disheveled. Damon looked like he wanted to vomit.

“Yes,” Hermione said in an irritated voice, pressing her ear up to the door. “That’s _us_ just outside now. Do you hear those footsteps? We’re going up to the Astronomy Tower to do the spell.”

“We’re meant to stop ourselves then, yeah?” Harry asked, pressing his palm against the door. “That’s what Dumbledore meant… but he made it sound like there would be more than one…”

“More than one _what?”_ Damon asked, his eyes oddly dark in the shadows of the cupboard.

“He said lives…”

“Ariel’s,” Hermione said quietly. “Since she wasn’t waking up… Professor Dumbledore wouldn’t have asked me to do this unless the situation wasn’t looking good.”

“Ariel’s life isn’t in _danger,_ she just wasn’t _awake_ yet,” Damon argued; there was something about the way he said it that reminded Harry of Severus. Perhaps it was the desperate edge that seemed like he was trying _not_ to let show… or the twisted muscles in his face… although, it could’ve been a trick of the light…

“We still can’t let it happen, Damon,” Hermione huffed, her eyes still glued to the door.

“Why the hell do you even _have_ a Time-Turner?” he demanded.

“From Professor McGonagall on our first day back; I’ve been using it all year to get to all my lessons. Professor McGonagall made me swear I wouldn’t tell anyone. She had to write all sorts of letters to the Ministry of Magic so I could have one. She had to tell them I was a model student, and that I’d never, ever use it for anything except my studies… I’ve been turning it back so I could do hours over again, that’s how I’ve been doing several lessons at once.”

Harry stared at her, stunned. He suddenly felt terribly stupid — Ron had been convinced something had been odd with Hermione all year, and Harry had waved it off as her having a busy schedule.

“Merlin’s beard,” Damon said, leaning against the wall and nearly sending a broomstick toppling over. “Ariel is going to have a conniption when she hears this.”

“You could just _not tell her,”_ Hermione suggested in a light voice.

“You were given a _Time-Turner,_ and you think I won’t mention it?”

“You’ll just be giving her another reason to hate me,” Hermione said quietly.

Damon’s eyebrows furrowed, but he didn’t reply. Harry sighed, putting a hand on Hermione’s shoulder as she stared at the door. He could tell she wasn’t listening and watching anymore, but was only trying to hide her face.

“Hate is a strong word,” Harry tried, feeling guilty for not having a better reassurance on hand, but after his sister’s behavior earlier that day… it was hard to dispute it.

“It fits though, doesn’t it,” Hermione said to the door. “I’m not angry at you for it, Harry, don’t worry.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” he said softly. “I’m —”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Damon interrupted suddenly. “She’s jealous of you.”

Hermione’s head spun around so fast that a bushel of it whacked Harry in the face. He spluttered, wiping his mouth off as Hermione crossed her arms and gave Damon a disbelieving stare. It was very diluted due to the curiosity in her eyes, mixed with something else.

“Why on Earth would _Ariel_ be jealous of _me?”_ Hermione asked coolly.

Damon quirked an eyebrow. “Well, it’s obvious isn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if it was _obvious.”_

“I think what Hermione means,” Harry said quickly, “is that there’s… nothing to be jealous over.”

Hermione whirled around, hitting him in the face with her bushy hair a second time. Harry realized how she might have misconstrued his words when he caught sight of the wounded, hurt look slowly spreading over her face.

“Oh gods, Hermione, I —” Harry wanted to slam his head into the door for not thinking before he spoke. “I didn’t mean it like _that._ I only meant that… there wouldn’t be… Ariel doesn’t _get_ jealous. She just doesn’t _care.”_

“Yeah, she doesn’t _care.”_ Damon snorted. _“That’s_ it. Gods, do you two really not see it?”

Hermione slowly turned away from Harry, her face melting in a mask of puzzlement, which didn’t look right on her. Harry followed her gaze, trying to rack his mind for the place Damon was coming from, because it certainly wasn’t anywhere _he_ was familiar with (like France).

“You called Hermione and Ron your _team,”_ Damon said flatly, looking directly at Harry. “You tell _me_ how that sounds.”

“It sounds like the truth,” Hermione bristled.

“To you, yeah.” Damon’s eyes locked onto Harry’s. “You _really_ don’t see it, do you? In Ariel’s eyes, Hermione’s taken her… _place,_ I guess you could call it.”

“No one can take her place,” Harry shot back automatically. “I mean, Hermione’s my best friend, but Ariel is my sister.”

“You don’t treat her that way anymore.”

Harry recalled Ariel’s face in the garden, both broken and fiercely determined, like whatever he’d said had ignited something brand new. He truly hadn’t meant to hurt her feelings, and as the days had passed between then and now, Harry had almost regretted being so open with her about how he really felt, but he hadn’t been able to muster the strength to take it all back.

“If Ariel is upset with me,” Harry said stiffly, “she can tell me herself. I don’t need _you_ to tell me… seeing as you tell her everything anyway, I guess it doesn’t matter what I say.”

“She had a right to know about Pettigrew.” Damon’s eyes flashed.

“Yeah, and I had a right to know about my parents, but you don’t see me complaining about my childhood,” Harry shot back, because he could help himself.

The silence hung awkwardly in the tight cupboard, which suddenly felt _much_ smaller. Harry cleared his throat and turned away, trying to steady his accelerating heartbeat. He was here to _help_ his sister, not argue over her with her friend.

“We can…” Hermione took a deep breath. “We can deal with this later. Right now, we need a _plan.”_

“Right,” Harry said in a strained voice, wanting to leave the subject, but at the same time not quite done. He quietly seethed as Hermione pocketed the Time-Turner — what did Damon know about him and his sister? He’d known about their separation since the beginning… and Snape… but why did he seem so protective of that fact? What did it matter to _him_ if Harry and Ariel were getting along or not? What did _Hermione_ matter?

“Alright.” Hermione crossed her arms, her voice no-nonsense. “Harry, you can go and tell Professor Snape-”

“Hermione, that’s a _terrible_ idea,” Damon interjected immediately. Harry almost yelled at him to stop interrupting, but bit his tongue. Telling Severus didn’t seem like a likely course of action. Knowing Ariel, she’d try it again - maybe by herself.

“Well, how _else_ are we supposed to stop ourselves from doing the spell?” Hermione put her hands on her hips.

“We create a diversion,” Harry tried.

“Yeah, because _loud noises_ will _always_ take care of a bunch of Gryffindors,” Damon muttered.

“Hush,” Hermione snipped. “or I’ll leave you in here.”

“If you do that, then make sure to tell Snape as he’s on our way to drag our arses to detention.”

“Well do you have any _other_ bright ideas?”

“Not at the moment, but if any come to me, you’ll be the first to know.”

“You do that.”

“What kind of diversion, then?” Harry cut in quickly, before Damon could retort (he thought he’d left Ariel in the _present,_ but it seemed that Damon was acting on her behalf).

“Well...” Hermione looked up thoughtfully. “Ariel and I were late because she misplaced the box… we could throw something down the corridor - we’ll blame it on Sirius later - but we need to alert Professor Snape somehow as well.”

“I just _said,”_ Damon said, glowering at her, “that I am _not_ getting detention with him.”

“Well how _else_ would you like to stop Harry and Ariel from doing the spell?” Hermione shot back, exasperated.

“We could… lead them on.”

“We can’t be _seen —_ that’s the first _rule_ of using a Time-Turner!”

“So we won’t be,” Harry said, a lightbulb lighting up above his head. “I can grab the cloak, yeah?”

Hermione bit her lip. “That could work… but we haven’t much time…”

“I’ll be quick,” Harry promised. “In the meantime, you and Damon could find something to draw us away with.”

Hermione and Damon looked at each other like they were both flobberworms.

“Great,” Harry said before they could argue. “Get something loud we can drop down a flight of stairs.”

“We could drop Hermione’s satchel,” Damon said thoughtfully, putting a hand on his chin.

“Excuse me?” Hermione’s eyes tripled in size. “Why my _satchel?”_

“You carry around a bloody _library_ in that thing.”

“And risk damaging my _books?”_

“Books can be replaced.”

_“Or,”_ Harry sighed, closing his eyes, “you could just knock over a suit of armor.”

Hermione blinked. “That could work.”

“If it hits past-me,” Damon said, rubbing his hands together, “I’ll be able to get out of that Charms test next Tuesday.”

“That’s the spirit,” Harry replied, cracking the door open. “I’ll meet you two up there.”

He crept out, heading in the opposite direction of Hermione and Damon. Just before Harry turned, however, he saw Hermione shove the Time-Turner into her pocket, reminding him of what was hidden away in his own.

_if you are going to save more than one life tonight —_

Harry smiled, and pressed his wand to the Map.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Again, I'm sorry this is another week late, but this is all I can offer with the end of the semester rapidly approaching.
> 
> In other news; PoA is ALSO reaching it's final days, and I've decided that once it's finished, I'll be continuing GoF-OoTP in a separate installment. You can track my tumblr (lupinlaughed) for news on that, etc etc.
> 
> Reviews are my favorite thing ever x


	81. Lux Aurumque

Ariel didn’t know what took her by surprise more — the metal helmet that almost took Damon’s head off, or what happened afterwards.

They all successfully managed to dodge it, but Damon spent a minute or two casting an unidentifiable number of Hexes and Curses up the stairs, shouting obscenities until Ariel and Harry finally pried his wand from his hands. Hermione had charged up the stairs to see who it was, but she’d come back shaking her head in dismay.

“I bet it was Peeves,” she said, leaning against the wall and trying to catch her breath.

“Decapitation isn’t Peeves’ style.” Damon sent a horrible look up the stairs. “Whoever it was, I’m going to —”

“Did you see anyone on the Map, Harry?” Ariel asked before Damon could start ranting again.

Harry shook his head. “I didn’t look quick enough… they’re probably long gone by now.”

“It still wouldn’t hurt to look, seeing as they wrecked our setup.” Ariel grimaced, looking down, and the broken box — the talisman lay beside it. The candles lay scattered about, one lying several steps below them. The spell would never work now.

“Maybe it was for the best,” Hermione sighed.

“Speak for yourself,” Ariel muttered, immensely disappointed. It had seemed like a surefire spell… all she wanted was the extra push in order to cast her Patronus. Even though Ariel was capable of wisps of it, maybe even a cloud if she was lucky, it still wouldn’t be enough until she could cast the real thing. She wondered if it just wasn’t meant to be…

She’d just have to keep working with her father, she supposed.

Ariel turned back to her brother, about to ask him what he wanted to do now that their plan was ruined, and found him holding the Map so tightly that it looked like he might rip it in half. His eyes were nearly bulging out of his head.

“What is it?” Ariel asked nervously, her eyes flitting back up the stairs. “Is someone up there?”

“Sirius… is here,” Harry said, his voice throbbing.

She stared blankly at him. _“What?”_

“He’s just outside. It looks like he’s making his way into the castle…”

“But — but he’s just left! Why would he —”

“Maybe he lost Scabbers, er, Pettigrew?” Hermione guessed. “Tracking is hard… maybe he was too far gone before Sirius started looking again.”

“Sirius wouldn’t have give up this soon.” Harry shook his head. “It’s barely been a week…”

“Unless Pettigrew is here too,” said Damon.

All three of their heads snapped in his direction — he was still glaring mutinously up at the top of the stairwell, but his blue eyes shone brightly in the shadows.

“Think about it,” Damon said. “Who _else_ would throw armor at us and be able to disappear quickly? Why would Black return this soon?”

“But why would Pettigrew come back _here?”_ Harry asked, his green eyes sweeping over the Map. “Remus and Severus would catch him in an instant, and Dumbledore knows about him now too…”

“Maybe he had nowhere else to go.” Damon finally looked back to them, eyes flashing. “He can’t go back to the Death Eaters — his information made the Dark Lord disappear, and Black might want him dead, but he’s still a wanted fugitive. As long as he stays out of sight, Hogwarts would be able to hide him away quite nicely.”

Ariel didn’t like how quickly Damon had come to this conclusion. She stared at him suspiciously as Harry and Hermione traded a guarded look behind her back.

“If Pettigrew _is_ here,” Harry said slowly, “then we don’t have much time until he realizes Sirius is back. It’ll be impossible to find him then.”

With that, Harry laid the Map on the ground and began looking it over. Hermione fell to her knees beside him, scouring it with the same intensity she used when reading a book. Ariel didn’t know what to do — she wanted to help, but at the same time, she felt like three people hovering over the Map would be too much. She also had the distinct feeling that Harry would shoo her off — she didn’t have the attention span to sit and look anyway.

Damon started up the stairs slowly, craning his head to peek around the corner, and Ariel vanished the remains of the failed spell before following him.

“I don’t want to leave them alone,” Ariel said, practically breathing down his neck. She wasn’t exactly frightened, but she could feel the adrenaline of the turn their night had taken pulsing through her, like an electric shock.

“I just wanted to take a look around,” Damon said softly, casting a quick _Lumos_ as he surveyed the corridor. Ariel did the same, standing so close to him that his hair brushed against her cheek.

He smirked at her. “Scared?”

“Of the man who betrayed my parents?” Ariel gave him a look. “Never. Besides, there’s a very good chance that _Hermione_ is right about Sirius simply losing Pettigrew’s scent, and you’ve sent my brother into a frenzy for nothing.”

Damon shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Like what?” He looked at her innocently. 

“You’re acting…” Ariel studied him. “weird.”

He shrugged again, and her suspicion mounted. Damon had always leered and dropped scraps of information here and there, but lately he’d been… almost cryptic, and it was always when it came to Harry. Between the Sirius Meetings and the aftermath of that, and what Harry had said to Ariel in the Garden…

“Are you angry with my brother?” Ariel asked him plainly.

Damon stalled, the light at the end of his wand dimming, though only slightly. “Why would I be?”

“I don’t know.” she admitted, feeling stupid for always playing the one card she had before she could figure out the moves herself. “But you’re my friend, and I would hope that if something is bothering you, that you’d tell me instead of acting alone.”

“If it was a solo act, I’d tell you, don’t worry.”

Ariel was about to ask what that meant when she heard the sound of footsteps running up the stairwell behind them. When she and Damon turned, Hermione was waving at them frantically, ushering them back down to the alcove.

Ariel and Damon exchanged a look — she still didn’t know how to read his, but she hoped hers conveyed her unease.

Harry stood up with the Map once they returned to the landing,

“You should…” Harry swallowed. “You should look at this.”

Ariel’s eyebrows furrowed, but she took the Map as Harry handed it to her, holding it out so that Damon could see as well.

“What are we supposed to be looking at?” Damon asked, his eyes never leaving the page. Ariel searched as well, finding her father heading past the Great Hall, Remus in his office, Dumbledore up in his Tower…

“Fifth floor,” said Harry, his tone suggesting that Fluffy had taken up residence there. “By the Garden.”

When Ariel’s eyes found what Harry was referencing, she almost dropped the Map.

 _Peter Pettigrew,_ in tiny letters, was standing perfectly still, just outside the entrance.

“Holy shit,” was all she could manage.

“What she said,” Damon mumbled, his hand gripping her arm tightly. “Good grief, he’s making this too easy, now.”

“Let’s go,” said Hermione, whipping out her wand. “We can still catch him if we’re quick enough.”

 _If you go after the man who betrayed your parents, Dad will murder you all before he can get to Pettigrew himself,_ Conscience hissed — he sounded a lot like Severus, at the moment, and Ariel supposed that was no coincidence.

“No,” Ariel said firmly, “we need to tell Severus first.”

“If we _stall,_ we might lose him!” Harry hissed. “We can’t afford that again — Sirius can’t!”

“Send your Patronus, then. He’ll follow it.”

Harry tilted his head. “And we’ll go ahead of him?”

“We won’t be by ourselves for long. We’ll have to be careful…” Ariel glanced back down at the Map, Pettigrew’s name perfectly still. “Why isn’t he moving, though?”

“Maybe he’s asleep?” Hermione suggested.

“Sounds unlikely.” Damon scrunched his nose. “Or maybe we’re just _really_ lucky.”

“Let’s not let it run out, then,” Harry said, raising his wand high above his head. _“Expecto Patronum!”_

The silver stag burst out of the tip of Harry’s wand, circling him a few times, like he was inspecting him in order to make sure he was truly his master. Ariel put all of her efforts into trying not to let any of her envy leak into her stare, watching closely as Harry petted the stag’s snout.

“Go and find Severus,” Harry said to it. “Bring him to us, okay? Remus too… and Sirius… the whole lot of them, I guess. I’m sorry it’s so many stops for you.”

The stag gave him a look that almost appeared bothered, but in a mocking way; if he could speak, Ariel would’ve expected him to say, “What _else_ am I good for, mate?”

Harry gave Prongs one last pat on the head, and with that, he bounded off silently, the last of his light lingering for a moment between evaporating into the air, like smoke. Ariel didn’t trust herself to speak — her mind was whirring in circles, between the spell, and Pettigrew on the Map, and Sirius returning, and the Patronus she _still couldn’t cast —_

“Let’s go.” Harry lit the end of his wand, taking the lead as he rushed the stairs.

Hermione gave Ariel a long, skeptical look before following after him. Ariel paused, hesitating, as she stared down the winding stairs, into the blackness at the bottom, wondering if she should just wait for Severus herself. Ariel didn’t want to let Harry go alone though… even if he _was_ with Hermione.

There hadn’t been much thought on her part of Pettigrew. He’d been like an idea, a distant thought in the back of her head, like Sirius had been, until Ariel had come face to face with him in the Forest. She’d hated him, initially, for the hand he’d been falsely accused of in her mum and James’ deaths, but it was like a curtain had fallen between her and that kind of emotion, the same way Ariel felt towards Pettigrew now. In a way, it reminded her of James and Lily — she loved them, but more the idea of them, really, since Ariel had never actually _known_ them. Did hatred work the same way? Could you _hate_ someone you didn’t really know? Did it truly begin once you met them, face to face?

Confronting Pettigrew was a very different kind of monster, compared to standing in front of Voldemort _(Tom Tom Tom)._ Voldemort wouldn’t have been able to have been stopped… Pettigrew had had a choice. _This_ man had put Sirius in prison… left Remus alone…

Her father never would have cried the way he had, in the memory Ariel heard around the Dementors, if it hadn’t been for Pettigrew’s betrayal.

“You okay?” Damon put a hand on Ariel’s arm, jolting her from her thoughts.

“Never better.” She unsheathed her wand, her voice uncharacteristically hard, like stone. “Let’s go.”

“If you don’t want to do this…”

“He murdered my mum,” Ariel said in a steely voice. “I’m going.”

Damon nodded curtly, taking a step back. “I’m right behind you… I’ve got your back, alright?”

She gave him an appreciative smile, quickly following after Hermione and Harry, who were already halfway down the third floor corridor by the time Ariel and Damon caught up to them. Damon was so quiet behind her that if she didn’t keep turning around, Ariel might’ve thought he’d disappeared. He and Harry seemed to have the talent for walking like they had smoke for feet — she and Hermione kept kicking rocks, or scraping their feet against the stone by accident, and earning themselves warning looks from Harry, who was still in the lead.

Ariel fell in step with him on the stairs heading up to the fourth floor, trying to decipher the look on his face. It was fiercely determined, but questioning, like Harry was trying to figure something out as they went along.

“What’s the plan, Harry?” Ariel decided on.

Harry still refused to meet her eyes. “We catch Pettigrew.”

“Yeah? And then what?”

“Sirius goes free,” he sighed, like this had been talked over a million times. “Hasn’t that always been it?”

 _“We_ weren’t supposed to find him — _Sirius_ was.”

“So we’re helping _Sirius.”_

“But what if we get to him before Severus finds us? What’s our plan?”

“We…” Harry’s face furrowed in concentration. “We can Stun him, I suppose, and then wait for help.”

“That’s it?”

“Do _you_ have a better plan?”

“No, but I also know that if we don’t do this right, we risk losing him for good.” Ariel grabbed Harry’s arm as they hit the landing to the fourth floor. “We should stay here and _wait_ before going up.”

“He’s the reason we are what we are.” His green eyes glinted in the torchlight. “Sirius needs this too, but… he killed _our_ mum and dad.”

Ariel wondered if Harry had come to same conclusion she had. They had never been faced with this before — with someone who had done something horrible to them they could possibly take care of themselves. She’d seen her father do it, and heard the throb of longing in Sirius’ voice when he talked about it, but what was it like to make someone hurt, to make them pay?

Did she want to find out? Did Harry?

She found herself wanting to.

“Harry-” Ariel started to say, but she was quickly interrupted.

“Oi, shut it,” Damon called in a hushed whisper. “Do you hear that?”

The echo of footsteps was bouncing off the stone walls, rushed and quick, like they were running. Ariel sent a frantic look to Harry, her heart racing as he quickly unfolded the Map, searching to see who it was —

“It’s —”

“What the _hell_ are the four of you doing?”

Ariel nearly jumped out of her skin — Hermione actually shrieked, and Harry stumbled into Damon, sending them both toppling over and onto the ground. Ariel whipped around, still clutching her wand in a vise-like grip, to find her father standing right behind her, looking half annoyed, half alight with a foreign kind of curiosity, like he wanted to know what they were doing here, but was still too bothered to ask.

“You got the Patronus?” Harry wheezed, pushing himself to his feet.

“It nearly ran me down,” her father said flatly. “It made me spill Lupin’s potion — I went to go and get another goblet, but your _messenger_ wouldn’t leave me alone until I followed, and so, here I am.”

 _“Look,”_ Harry shoved the Map at him.

Severus recoiled, like Harry was trying to hand him something Peeves had left in a toilet. “Mr. Potter, this _really_ isn’t —”

“Look at the Map, Dad,” Ariel said, her heart still pulsing in her throat.

Her father gave her an awful look — most likely for her command — but he reluctantly turned his eyes to the parchment, holding it at length from him, like he was afraid he’d contract some horrible disease from it.

“What am I looking for?” he asked in a voice of utmost loathing.

“Fifth floor.” Harry said. “Just outside the garden.”

His lip curled as his eyes found their target. Ariel watched her father’s face go from palpable irritation to roaring hunger, the kind he’d stared at Quirrell and Tom with. It was like watching the tide pull back and reveal what was hiding in the sand underneath.

“Pettigrew,” her father said in a dangerous voice, like he was really saying _he’s mine._

“Sirius is back too,” Harry stated — Severus’ face immediately changed, like he’d been told Christmas was canceled.

“Splendid,” Severus stated, his tone saying anything but. “How long has he been here?”

“We don’t know,” Harry said, brushing the dust off his hands from the fall on his trousers. “It was by chance, really. We think he knocked a suit of armor down the stairs, trying to hit one of us.”

“He _what?”_ her father snarled, crushing the Map in his fists. 

“We don’t know that for sure,” Ariel said quickly, taking the Map from him before he could rip it.

His face thundered, his eyes flashing like lightning. “Miss Granger, take Mr. Malfoy with you, and go and tell Professor Lupin he’s needed.”

“We sent him and Sirius a Patronus,” Harry said, obviously not willing to let Hermione leave, but it didn’t seem likely that Severus would let them stay, either.

“Well _clearly_ he is taking his time,” he snapped. “Go and _tell him_ that his mediocrity is needed to _assist.”_

Harry grimaced, giving Hermione an apologetic look as she nodded, obviously worried out of her mind about what would happen once she left. Ariel wanted Damon to stay too, but as he passed her, their eyes silently communicating what they couldn’t say out loud, she realized that her father was probably right in sending them away. Once Remus and Sirius joined them, sneaking up on Pettigrew might prove to be a bit… crowded.

Severus gave them both a long, pointed look, right down the center of his nose once Hermione and Damon had left. “If I asked the two of you to wait in my quarters, I’m assuming you won’t do anything remotely close to my instructions.”

Ariel looked at Harry, and he at her — they simultaneously shook their heads at him.

Her father pinched the bridge of his nose. “If I bring you with me, you need to stay hidden.”

“We _can_ help,” Harry said, crossing his arms.

“I don’t _need_ help in order to catch a rat — unlike your dogfather, whose incompetence continues to stagger me.” Severus said coolly. “However, if Pettigrew _does_ somehow manage to get past me, I’d like you two stationed by the stairs to stop him. Can you do that?”

“Why don’t _I_ stay on the stairs?” Harry suggested. “Ariel can take the wall closest… and you can sneak around to the other. You can take him by surprise at the same time. I’ll stay and keep watch.”

Severus stared at him blankly for a moment, like he was trying to debunk the idea somehow. Ariel looked expectantly up at her father, waiting for him to snap that they should just stay _here_ and let him go alone, but instead, he nodded.

“Be quiet,” her father ordered gruffly. “I’ll signal when to move, and for Merlin’s sake, do _not_ cast any spells unless I say so. Understood?”

Ariel and Harry both nodded mutely up at him. Ariel was stunned he wasn’t trying to lock them both in a broom closet until Pettigrew was caught. She wondered if it was because her father thought he wasn’t worth fretting over in terms of the Ariel-Harry-Danger-Meter, or if he wanted the satisfaction of catching Pettigrew before Remus and Sirius arrived.

They slowly ascended up the stairway, Ariel’s footfall much louder than her father’s and Harry’s — Severus kept turning back to glare at her, like he was thinking, _“Did you inherit_ any _of my stealth?”_ The third time her boots dragged across the stone, her father actually halted and sighed — it was a tiny one, but it was meant to be heard.

Ariel quickly maneuvered her way across the corridor, her father gliding behind her, his hands gripping her shoulders. When they made it to the wall, vertical from the stairwell, he gave her a long, meaningful look that was a combination of I-Can’t-Believe-It’s-Come-Down-To-This and something else Ariel couldn’t identify, and disappeared around the corner.

Ariel counted her breaths and kept her eyes on Harry, stationed on the stairs. At thirty-three counts, Ariel peeked around the corner, and found her father at the other end, nodding for her to go ahead.

She slid towards the entrance to the Garden, where the Map said Pettigrew was, straining to see through the dimly lit corridor. Ariel could hear her father’s footfall, focusing on that, listening for any indication that Pettigrew was trying to run —

When her father came into her line of view, he was standing over something very small, and very familiar...

… and it wasn’t moving, _still._

“Stay back,” her father murmured, waving his wand over the small heap in front of him. Ariel watched intently, trying to keep her face clean of any fear, but she felt her eye twitch, unable to contain her anticipation any longer.

“Is it him?” Ariel whispered.

“It would appear so,” Severus said in a toneless voice, like the air had sucked all the emotion out of him.

“Wait-” Ariel squinted, “why isn’t he _moving?”_

Severus’ eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I… don’t know.”

“Oh my god,” Ariel said, staring in horror at the tiny shape huddled against the wall, “is he _dead?”_

It was then they both saw Pettigrew’s rat eyes twitch — Ariel jumped. It was definitely _Scabbers —_ but he looked like he’d lost quite a bit of weight, more streaks of grey in his fur than Ariel could recall him ever having.

“Dead things don’t move,” Severus rolled his eyes. “He’s obviously under some sort of spell.”

“By… by who though? No one knows except us…” 

“I said I don’t _know!”_ her father snapped, just as puzzled as she was, only much more frustrated.

“You can come out, Harry,” Ariel called over his shoulder. “We got him… sort of.”

“What do you mean, _sort of?”_ His voice was much closer than it should have been — he must’ve sneaked up to the wall Ariel had been behind once she’d left.

“He’s… well…”

Ariel waited until Harry was at her side, gesturing down at the Stunned Pettigrew. “See?”

A funny look fell over his face. “I don’t… I don’t understand…”

“Severus?” Remus’ voice called from somewhere nearby, sounding terribly confused. When Ariel whirled around, he was staring at the three of them standing dumbly in the middle of the corridor. Padfoot was at his side, who gave a joyful yip when he saw Harry and Ariel. He raced over to them, nearly knocking Harry out of his shoes as he pounced, his paws landing on Harry’s shoulders. He licked Ariel’s eyes from this angle, his tag wagging excitedly.

“We found your _rat,”_ Severus said flatly. “And you’ve located the mutt, I see.”

Both Remus and Sirius froze, like Severus had cast a Freezing Charm on the pair of them. Padfoot leapt down and quickly turned into Sirius.

“Peter?” Remus’ amber eyes glowed strangely. “Where?”

Severus pointed downward. Their gazes followed his finger.

“Is he _Stunned?”_ Sirius asked, gobsmacked. “Who the fuck — did you do this, Snape?”

“We found him like this,” her father said tersely. “Your godchildren spotted him on that bloody Map of yours. I’m assuming you _lost_ something while on your hunt, Black?”

“Someone did us a favor, it seems.” Remus said grimly. “Maybe one of the students?”

“Why would someone do that, Remus?” Sirius demanded, his eyes never leaving Pettigrew, who looked like he was having a seizure. It was quite strange to watch — he was definitely convulsing, but his limbs stayed perfectly still.

“He was probably left for Filch’s cat,” Severus said, his black eyes gleaming.

The three of them were all standing around Pettigrew like they were watching their prey run in circles. Ariel wondered what any passing students might think if they ran into Professor Snape and Lupin, accompanied by Sirius Black, dangerous Death Eater, staring down at a rat like they were going to share him for a meal.

“Well that’s… anticlimactic,” said Harry.

Ariel tugged on her father’s sleeve. “We can take him inside of the garden. No one will be able to find us, right? Not even the Dementors?”

Severus’ eyes flickered to Remus. “Did you want to do this now, or let the Ministry handle it?”

Remus hesitated, something battling out inside his amber eyes. “We shouldn’t… the kids don’t need to…”

“Like hell they don’t need to see this,” Sirius snapped. “They have more of a right than anyone. It’s _their_ parents.”

Remus turned to her father. “If you want to take them —”

“I agree with Black,” Severus said in a funny sort of voice, like an ache in the back of your throat. “They have a right to know why.”

Surprised, Ariel looked up at him, touching his arm lightly. Her father rested his hand on the back of her neck, jerking his head down at Pettigrew-the-rat as the stone door slid open with a deep rumble, only that shook the ground. Sirius reached down to grab Pettigrew, but Remus beat him to it, holding him in a vise-like grip.

“I’d like to talk to him,” Remus said as he stepped over the threshold. “and we can’t do that if you crush him to death.”

“I wouldn’t have done that.” Sirius said darkly.

“Not intentionally.”

Sirius growled and followed after him — Ariel and Harry followed suite, Severus the last one inside, closing the door behind him. Even though the room wouldn’t open until one of them left, her father cast a spell over the door — presumably something that reinforced whatever was already in place.

The garden was still in full bloom, looking exactly the same as when Ariel had left it when she’d come here to talk to Harry, although now, it was eerily. Not even the wind moving through the trees, rustling their leaves and swirling the fallen snow made a sound — it was like they were in a vacuum.

Remus placed Pettigrew-the-rat right in front of the bench, his face like the ripped edges of a painting.

“I’m going to need your wand for a bit, Harry,” Sirius said, his eyes never leaving the rat on the frost covered ground. “Do you mind?”

Harry shook his head and handed it to him.

“Ready, Sirius?” asked Remus quietly.

That hunger in Sirius’ face began to turn into a roaring inferno, like he’d been waiting all his life for this moment. Ariel leaned into Severus, whose eyes had not left the rat once, like he was afraid he would disappear if he looked away.

“Together?” Sirius rasped, raising Harry’s wand.

“I think so,” Remus gave a twisted, pained smile. “On the count of three. One — two — _three!”_

There was a flash of blueish-white light from the tips of both their wands, and Pettigrew-the-rat flew into the air on impact, and then froze there, like he was hanging there by an invisible thread. Ariel watched, her jaw dropping, as he hit the ground, and then, begin to shift, like his skin was bubbling —

Her father’s fingernails dug into her shoulder, his breath coming out in harsh pants as a head shot upwards from the stone ground, limbs growing in each direction, and when Ariel blinked, there was a man sitting where the rat had been, wringing his hands, his eyes twitching about nervously, like he was afraid the plants were going to eat him.

He was a short man, shorter than Ariel and Harry, with small, watery eyes, and grubby skin that looked like it hadn’t been washed in years. He took a deep, gasping breath as Remus stepped forward, tucking his wand back into his robes.

“Hello, Peter,” Remus said, like rats turning into old friends was something that happened on a daily basis for him. “Long time, no see.”

“R-Remus…S-Sirius…” Peter said in a high, squeaky voice. “M-my old friends…”

Sirius’ wand immediately flew up, but Remus caught him around the wrist and pulled it down. “We’d like to have a little chat with you, Peter, about the night James and Lily died. Do you think you’d be up for that?”

“Remus, p-please!” Pettigrew gasped, his face going white. “You can’t believe anything he says — you don’t, do you? He tried to kill me, Remus, please…”

“Did he now?” Remus asked in a voice that sent shivers shooting up Ariel’s spine. “You know, I’ve heard that story several times over, Peter, and I must say, it’s lost a bit of its shine. However, I’d still like to clear up a matter or two, if you’re up for it.”

“I think he is,” Severus answered for Pettigrew, his eyes glittering wildly. “And if he isn’t, we can make arrangements to ensure he is.”

“Remus, please, you can’t believe him!” Beads of sweat dripped down Pettigrew’s pasty face. “He k-killed them… he killed James and Lily! He’s come to try and kill me again, you’ve got to h-help me, Remus…”

“Who did, Peter?” Remus asked in a very considering voice.

“S-Sirius! He tried twelve years ago, and he’s here to try again!” Pettigrew squealed, looking about wildly for an escape, but her father was blocking the door. “I always knew it would happen… that he’d come for me! That’s why I hid…”

“You _knew_ Sirius would escape Azkaban, when no one else has ever done it before?” Remus’ eyebrows furrowed.

“He’s got Dark powers the rest of us can’t even _fathom —”_

Her father let out a ripping snort, lessening his hold around both Ariel and Harry. He looked like he wanted to join in the interrogation, but was content for now just watching Remus let Pettigrew squirm. Sirius, however, let out a barking laugh that bounced off the stone walls, filling the space, even though there was no ceiling to contain it.

“Voldemort, teach _me_ tricks?” Sirius sneered. “C’mon Peter, you’ve got to do better than _that.”_

Pettigrew flinched, like a whip had been brandished, and Sirius’ face darkened, so deep and fathomless that he appeared almost skeletal.

“Scared to hear your old Master’s name, Peter?” Sirius asked softly, taking a step towards him. “I don’t blame you, mate — his lot aren’t very happy with you, now are they?”

“I - I don’t know what you m-mean…”

“You haven’t been hiding from _me_ for twelve years,” Sirius hissed, his wand raising itself with every word as he advanced on him. “You’ve been hiding from Voldemort’s old supporters. I heard some scary shit in Azkaban, Peter… they’re not too happy with you. Bellatrix has got something special planned for you, you know. I’ve heard her screaming all sorts of things in her sleep. Voldemort went to James and Lily’s on _your_ information. Merlin help you if they somehow got _wind_ you were ever _alive,_ Peter…”

“I d-don’t know what y-you’re talking about.” Pettigrew’s breathing had grown very shallow. “That’s r-ridiculous… they all know it was _you!”_

“I’ve seen Sirius’ memories, Peter,” Remus said in a low, even voice. “So has Severus. It’s time to stop playing games.”

Peter began to hyperventilate as they both advanced on him, like dogs circling their kill. “Th-that’s — he’s tricked you, Remus! I’ve slept in Ariel’s dormitory for three years, and I’ve never once hurt her! Harry for longer — I’ve never touched a hair on their heads!”

“I’ll tell you why,” Sirius spat venomously, “because you never fucking did anything for anyone unless you could see what was in it for you. Voldemort’s been gone for twelve years, and you weren’t about to murder two children under Dumbledore’s watch for someone who might’ve lost their powers permanently. So you ran off like the shit you are, holed up with a wizarding family to keep an eye on the news… for whispers of your old master’s return. Am I close, Peter?”

Pettigrew knelt, trembling uncontrollably, clasping his hands in front of him. “P-please… Sirius…”

“You sold James and Lily to Voldemort,” Sirius said, shaking just as much. “Do you deny it, Peter, with all the evidence stacked against you? Do you deny it in front of their children?”

Ariel held her breath — her hands gripping her father’s robes tightly. She couldn’t look away to look up at his face — she could only imagine what he looked like.

Pettigrew burst into tears, cowering into the floor, burying his face in his hands. “What could I have done, Sirius? The Dark Lord… you have no idea… has has weapons you can’t imagine… he was taking over everywhere! I was so scared, Sirius… I was never brave like you and Remus and James. I never meant for it to happen, but the Dark Lord _forced me —”_

“Don’t you fucking lie!” Sirius roared. “You’d been passing information to him for a year before Lily and James died! You were his fucking _spy!”_

“W-what was to be gained by refusing him?” Pettigrew wailed. “He would have killed me, Sirius!”

“THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!” Sirius thundered, with a terrible, primal fury in his face. “What was there to be _gained_ by refusing Voldemort, Peter? Only _innocent fucking lives,_ Peter! You should have _died_ for James and Lily, as we would have done for you!”

“You should have realized one very crucial point, Peter,” Remus said quietly. “If Voldemort didn’t kill you, then we would.”

Pettigrew began to hyperventilate, his eyes unseeing as they looked around the room, until they landed on Harry, tucked securely next to Severus.

“Harry… Harry, please.” Pettigrew sobbed. “You look just like your father… and Ariel… such a pretty girl…”

Ariel recoiled as Severus flew forward — she still couldn’t see his expression — and Sirius grabbed Pettigrew around the collar of his robes, throwing him into the center of the room.

“How _dare_ you fucking speak to them!” Sirius threw him down, Pettigrew’s hands breaking his fall. “How _dare_ you face them — speak about _James_ to them! You murder their parents, and beg for _their_ mercy?”

“Please… _please!”_ Pettigrew shrieked. Her father had blocked him from their view, now, but Ariel could see Harry again. He was watching the scene like he wasn’t a part of it — like he had been somewhere else, and just now witnessing what was happening.

“HE’S THE DEATH EATER SPY!” Pettigrew shrieked. “SNAPE! James always said — you let _him_ walk free! I was coerced… I was frightened, but Snape —”

Ariel flinched, wanting to get closer, but her feet wouldn’t move. She felt very cold — it might’ve been the fact that they were standing outside in the middle of December, but this was different. Ariel could feel it in the back of her eyes, and in her joints, like they’d been disconnected and put back together half-heartedly.

“Severus has his own reasons,” Remus said smoothly. “The difference being that he defected beforehand — you seem to have gotten the idea of _remorse_ quite confused, haven’t you, Peter?”

Her father grimaced. “You had better kill him after telling him that.”

“A fine idea,” Remus raised his wand. “Together, Sirius?”

“Yes, I should think so,” Sirius said, a twisted smile lighting up his hollowed face.

“Come,” her father said coldly, pulling Ariel and Harry back in a flurry of black robes.

 _“Wait —_ no!’ Harry shouted.

“You are not to witness this, Harry,” her father tugged him roughly towards the door.

“No, I mean, they can’t kill him!”

Her father stopped short — Remus and Sirius’ heads jerked in their direction, staggered.

“Why _not?”_ Ariel pulled her arm free of her father’s hold. “I don’t see what’s stopping them.”

“Sirius, if you bring him in alive, you’ll go free.” Harry looked at him. “Don’t we _need_ him?”

“You can do that with a _body,”_ Ariel growled.

She half-expected Severus to agree with her, but when she turned to look at him, he was staring at her strangely, like he was afraid of her all of a sudden. Confused, Ariel asked him with her eyes what was wrong, but the weird look only intensified, like her father was trying to see beneath her skin.

“It’s… not what Mum and Dad would’ve wanted,” Harry said, looking at Ariel, as though prompting her to chime in at any time. “They wouldn’t have wanted their friends to become killers.”

Ariel quieted, reaching in the small space where Lily was inside her mind to try and think of what she’d say, if she were here. Would she want her death avenged? Would it make her proud to kill one of the people that had led to her murder — the very person that should have been protecting her family? Even Lily and James aside, Pettigrew had almost gotten _Ariel_ killed… that was a good enough cause for death, wasn’t it? Killing Pettigrew didn’t seem all _that_ awful —

The look in Harry’s eyes told her that he felt differently, and Ariel wasn’t about to argue against it.

“Well,” Ariel said, studying Pettigrew, “if anyone deserves Azkaban, it _is_ him.”

“They’re right, Moony,” Sirius said quietly. “Prongs would’ve stopped us too… Lily would’ve taken our heads off for even _considering_ it.”

“You’re better than him,” Harry gave Pettigrew a horrid look, and he whimpered.

“Well, if you’re not going to put him out of his misery,” her father unsheathed his wand, and Pettigrew looked like he was about to pass out from fear. “I need to… make some adjustments.”

“What _kind_ of adjustments?” Sirius asked warily. “We need him in one piece, Sniv.”

“I’m aware of that, idiot, but if we’re handing him over to the authorities, he can’t be blabbering about my connection to your self-proclaimed godchildren.”

Sirius’ mouth opened and closed several times, and then he gave a jerky nod. “Alright.”

“Take them outside, Lupin,” her father jerked his head towards the door.

“Why?” Ariel questioned, starting towards him as Remus tried corralling them away. “What _else_ are you doing?”

Severus wasn't looking at them — he was staring down at Pettigrew with a vicious smile on his face, like he was unwrapping just what he’d asked for on Christmas Day. Pettigrew’s face was a mess of snot and tears, his breathing so rapid that it was a wonder he hadn’t fainted yet.

“You don’t mind if I make this extremely unpleasant, do you?” her father asked in a voice like winter. “It may take us a bit longer than usual, but I’m in no rush.”

Sirius shook his head, grey eyes fixed on Pettigrew. “I’d complain if you didn’t.”

Ariel waited for a wave of horror to wash over her, but it didn’t. Her heart felt like it was squeezing her chest; that they were hurting someone because that person had tried to harm her and Harry. She felt terrible for thinking that, but, in Severus Speak, it was like saying that he cared — Sirius too.

She wondered if this was the only way they’d get along — tormenting people they both hated, even if they sounded like they were discussing the weather.

Once they were outside, back in the dim corridor, Ariel leaned against the wall, her eyes trained on her father as the door slid shut again. All she could see was his wand pressed up against Pettigrew’s throat, Sirius holding his head up by his hair.

Remus quickly put up a Silencing Spell, just as a series of loud gasps shot through the air, like puffs of smoke.

“Are you _sure_ they won’t kill him?” Harry asked suspiciously, wringing his hands worriedly in his robes.

“I trust Sirius.” Remus said quietly, his lips twitching. “He won’t do anything unless you want him to.”

Ariel didn’t want to think about killing people anymore. It made her feel very strange, to have someone’s life in her hands, even if the burden was shared with Harry. There was something about it that burrowed beneath her skin, made her want to yell. She’d _wanted_ Pettigrew dead — she did — but she didn’t want that… final say. It frightened her.

She looked around, trying to distract herself from what was happening on the other side of the wall. Harry and Remus didn’t seem like they had much to say — Ariel didn’t blame them. It was too tense to try and make small talk anyway. The moonlight filtering in —

Ariel’s head whipped towards Remus. “It’s a full moon.”

He blinked, appearing mildly surprised. “It is.”

“Won’t you, er, turn into a werewolf?”

“Oh… yes,” Remus sighed tiredly. “I suppose I will, soon. I’ll need to head down to my office for the night once Severus and Sirius are finished.”

“But… Dad said… he spilt your potion before… and that he didn’t get a chance to refill it…”

Remus’ skin greyed, his amber eyes widening in heart-stopping panic.

“Remus?” Ariel whispered.

“Oh god.” he croaked.

“He… he didn’t take the Wolfsbane?” Harry grabbed Ariel’s arm, as though he meant to pull her back, but his eyes stayed frozen in fear, focused on Remus.

“Run!” Remus gasped, leaning against the wall heavily. “Get out of here, the both of you, _now!”_

“We can’t _LEAVE!”_ Ariel shrieked. “What about Sirius and Severus? If they come out…”

“You can’t transform inside the castle, either!” Harry said hoarsely.

“G-get Sirius…” he was hunched against the stone, like some great weight was pressing down on his back.

“It won’t open until they’re done!” Ariel slammed her fists against it. “DAD! _DAD!_ SIRIUS!”

“Y-your wand, Harry,” Remus rasped. “Use the Patronus…”

“Sirius has it!” Harry shouted.

There was a split second where Ariel almost threw her wand to Harry, but instead, she reached into her robes, feeling the wood between her fingers, and pointed it at the door. She felt herself let go, not exactly jumping into it, but letting whatever it was push her, until she was floating, basking in the white light that filtered through her mind, and for the first time in many months, Tom was nowhere to be found.

_You believed you could make the sun rise_

_(now was not the time to fail)_

She felt her chest give way.

 _“Expecto Patronum,”_ Ariel whispered.

 _Something_ burst out of the end of her wand — it was too quick to see what, but the shape disappeared behind the stone door. For a long, torturous minute, there was nothing but the sound of Remus’ moans of restraint, Harry’s labored breathing, and Ariel’s heart in her ears, until —

The door slid open, and Ariel rushed forward. Her father caught her, his face bewildered, and lighter, like he hadn’t been hurting Pettigrew just a minute ago, and the Patronus hadn’t —

Unable to speak, her throat clogged with terror, she pointed to Remus.

Her father’s eyes, for quite possibly the first time Ariel could ever recall, widened in _fear,_ the level rising with every passing second, until they landed on her and Harry. _Then_ they changed into something else entirely; the way darkness stretches out over a horizon, engulfing everything in its path until it's completely covered.

 _“BLACK!”_ her father shouted, his entire body slamming into both Ariel and Harry — they both ended up with their faces smashed into his ribcage, his arms holding them so tightly that he actually knocked the wind out of her.

Sirius emerged, popping his head out until he caught sight of Remus shifting, his head thrown back —

“Fucking _shit,”_ he snarled. “Remus — Remus, look at me! Here, Snape, take _him!”_ he reached behind him, throwing Pettigrew his way. He fell at her father’s feet — he looked like Fear was gripping him by the throat.

Sirius then grabbed Remus, looked around wildly, like he was trying to think.

“Put him _inside the garden!”_ her father roared.

Ariel buried her face against him, unable to make herself watch. She didn’t want to see if Remus had completed the transformation, or what the cause of the awful moans coming from him were.

The howl that rang through the night made Ariel’s blood curdle.

Thankfully, it was coming from somewhere distant, now, instead of right next to her. She let out the breath she’d been holding, feeling the burn in her lungs begin to subside.

“Jesus, that was close,” Sirius muttered — when Ariel peeked out, he was falling against the door. “Will he… he won’t be able to get out of there, right?”

“No,” Severus mumbled — he didn’t release either of them. “He won’t be able to leave until he turns back into a human.”

Pettigrew let out a whimper, and her father sent him a look that shouldn’t turned him into dust.

“They alright?” Sirius called.

“They’re in one piece, if that’s what you mean.” Severus still wasn’t letting go, and Ariel was finding it hard to breath again — all she was inhaling was buttons, and wool.

Harry said something unintelligible — Ariel would’ve bet her wand arm he was encountering the same issue she was. Her father _finally_ released his hold, inspecting them both at arm’s length before fully letting go. The lines in his face were biting, so hard and precise that it looked a breath away from transforming into cruelty.

“Come,” his eyes so deep Ariel thought she might fall into them. “I want _this_ dealt with.”

Pettigrew let out a choked sob — he was Stunned again. Using Harry’s wand, still, Sirius lifted him into the air.

Another howl filled the night air, and Ariel followed, even though she would’ve stayed and waited for Remus all night, if she had the choice.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So past-future-Harry worked some magic, Ariel/Harry/Snape teamed up when there wasn’t really a team-up needed, Ariel finally casted that damn Patronus, and Peter is going to prison. We have one more chapter left, and then, Red Sorrow will be completed; is there a happy end to this book in our sights?
> 
> *Snorts* Yeah, right.
> 
> I’ll post more info next author’s note, but make sure to keep an eye out for the sequel when I post it, if you want to. We’ve still got a long ways to go….


	82. Cloudburst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cloudburst -- Eric Whitacre 
> 
> We must sleep with open eyes,  
> we must dream with our hands,  
> we must dream the dreams of a river seeking its course,  
> of the sun dreaming its worlds,  
> we must dream aloud,  
> we must sing till the song puts forth roots,  
> trunk, branches, birds, stars,  
> we must find the lost word,  
> and remember what the blood,  
> the tides, the earth, and the body say,  
> and return to the point of departure…

Everything was… moving too quickly, even as Severus laid in bed. The room spun faster the more he pondered it.

Severus felt like he’d left his head in Dumbledore’s office, where he’d actually left Pettigrew and Black for the remainder of the night. He didn’t think he’d ever had the pleasure of eliciting _surprise_ from the old man, but really, was there any other reaction that would’ve been genuine? There was very little that ever got past Dumbledore, but Severus was inclined to believe that tonight things had gone in his favor, like they usually always did.

His faith in Dumbledore had waned over the past four years, but he had enough left to believe he’d be capable of holding Pettigrew until Lupin transformed back into a waste of a human being. Black didn’t seem the type to let his freedom slip easily from his hands either (intentionally), and so Severus had left as quickly as he could. Once Lupin recovered, he would go as Black’s first witness, his testimony to accompany the evidence… or rather, _Pettigrew,_ but it was easier to think of him as a stray piece of rubbish as opposed to a person. Come a day from now, the papers would be telling the tale of Black’s surrender, only to be turned into a horrible misjudgment, a false conviction, and a boy’s happy reunion...

The whole ordeal of securing Pettigrew had taken ages — Dumbledore had wanted to be absolutely certain there would be no memory of Severus’ involvement, and so he’d made Severus wait until he had finished.

Harry had stayed with Black; the girl had come with him. Severus had the feeling Ariel was trying to _hide_ from them both. He wasn’t going to discourage it, but he did want to know where it was coming from. The farther from Black she was, the fucking better — Lupin had grown on her, like a fungus, but Black was something different entirely.

_You can do that with a body_

Severus felt an odd combination of… pride and outright horror — he’d felt his face split open with it, seen Ariel recognize it. Part of him wanted to jump for joy, the other part of him incredibly disturbed by this discovery. Had Severus indirectly put that kind of cynicism — condemnation — in her? She’d always possessed Lily’s sense of right and wrong… what had changed? Had Severus instilled something darker there? Had his darkness seeped into her, begun to snuff out the light, like he’d always feared?

He’d always thought the “eye for an eye” principle was just. It was why he’d wanted Black dead — he’d killed Lily, and Severus would’ve made sure he died as a result of it, whether it be by his own hand, or the Dementor’s.

Severus heard the door creak open exactly the way he’d expected to hear it, and heard the floorboards protest under her weight, even though he knew that she was trying very hard to be quiet.

“It’s four in the morning,” Severus said into the darkness.

“Almost five, if you round up.”

When he lifted his eyes, there was a thin silhouette at his bedside. “No one rounds _time_ to the nearest number.”

_“I_ do,” Ariel replied. Severus covered his face with his arm when he felt something weighing down the uninhabited side of the bed. “It’s rather helpful when it comes to class. It makes everything go by quicker.”

“Why are you bothering me?”

“If I was bothering you, you’d sound much meaner.”

Severus growled, trying to bite back a retort he would later regret as Ariel settled next to him. She hadn’t bothered to turn on the light, which most likely meant she didn’t want him to see her face. He wondered why she came _now —_ they’d been back for over an hour.

He waited for Ariel to say her piece, but she didn’t. She only lay there beside him, the only sound coming from her the soft sigh of her breathing. Whatever she was thinking, however, hung in the air between them, like a pendulum, swinging back and forth between Severus’ thoughts and Ariel’s. There were a thousand things he wanted to say — to ask — but didn’t know how to even begin breaching them. He could just barely make out her face, his eyes already adjusted to the darkness, as she leaned against the pillows, chewing on her bottom lip.

“Congratulations on your Patronus,” Severus finally decided on.

Ariel’s eyes quickly flitted around the room, looking everywhere but his face. “Yeah?”

Severus frowned. “Are you unhappy with it?”

“I… didn’t see it,” Ariel admitted. “It was too fast… we were kind of desperate with the untamed werewolf and all.”

His chest loosened — Severus had wanted to be there the first time she’d successfully casted it. There had been a split second of disappointment because his common sense had kicked in and he’d realized something must be wrong.

“Try again,” Severus sat up, placing a hand on her back.

She bit her lip. “What… what if I can’t do it again?”

“If you can do it in the face of a rabid werewolf, you can do it here and now.”

Ariel made a sound, almost as if she was going to say something, but stopped herself and scooted towards the center of the bed, and pointed her wand straight in front of her.

_“Expecto Patronum.”_

It was far more graceful this time — the frantic, wild, primal look in its eyes gone. There was only majesty in its steps, in the way he poised his shoulders and stared back at the two of them, waiting expectantly upon his master.

The lion bowed its head, and Ariel’s face seemed to invert, like everything that had gone into making him appear was flowing outward, pouring into the room instead of herself. It was like looking into the door of eternity and not knowing whether to step through it or not. She was lightning before the thunder — something she’d feared as a child.

Ariel reached a trembling hand forward — she was shaking like a leaf — and the lion leaned forward, nuzzling her arm with _far_ less delicacy than his doe or Harry’s stag had ever used. She giggled as he jumped playfully, his mane bouncing in place. Severus felt his lips twitch, and before Ariel could reach the edge of the bed to pet him again, the lion disappeared, remnants twinkling in the bedroom for a long moment.

She looked up at him. “Are you mad?”

Severus blinked. “Why in Merlin’s name would I be?”

“It’s a _lion.”_

He didn’t think he was capable of being displeased. It could’ve been a flobberworm, and Severus still wouldn’t have cared.

“I’m happy if you are,” Severus said.

Ariel gave him a look, like he was trying to be funny. “Are you disappointed it's not a doe?”

It was very much like Lily, for Ariel’s Patronus to be what it was, but it also… wasn’t. Lily had been fierce, outspoken, a leader, and had shown unspeakable bravery in her last moments. There had been something gentler about her, however. It was then, Severus realized with a jolt, that he’d never really seen that in their daughter. Inherent goodness? Absolutely. The kindness, however, did not extend into Ariel’s immediate personality. It was only if one was to know her well enough that they would get a glimpse of it, bathe in its light. Severus had always known it because he had raised the girl since she was two years old; Harry had been her only wish; the werewolf was pitiful, and gentle, and had lured Ariel in with tales of her mother, and all of those things Severus could not always give her. 

“You are not… a carbon copy of myself, or your mother,” Severus said, resting a hand at the base of her neck. “I am pleased it’s unique to you.”

“But… is it… what you wanted?”

Jesus, she wasn’t making this easy.

“It shouldn’t matter what I want,” Severus said, trying very hard to sound gentle. “Or what anyone else wants, for that matter. Your Patronus is unique to _you,_ and I for one think you are perfectly acceptable just the way you are.”

Ariel snorted softly. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Do _you_ approve of it?” Severus asked warily, afraid he’d asked the wrong question.

She paused, a careful look on her thin face. “It can eat people.”

“Be serious,” Severus said, rolling his eyes, “if only for a night.”

The darkness surrounding them seemed to seep into her eyes. “I… love it. I just feel like I don’t deserve it.”

“Why would that be?” Severus grabbed her chin. “You _are_ a Gryffindor, if anything. Good grief, my girl, you’ve been lamenting your lack of ability for months, and now that you’ve discovered your potential, you are _still_ second-guessing yourself. Patronuses cannot be _faked,_ or misinterpreted, or wrongly assigned. Magic like this doesn’t work that way, child.”

“I guess I’m just surprised, is all.” Ariel shrugged, her lips twisting into a tiny smile. “Happy, but surprised. For a second, I thought my Patronus was just a giant blob, but then I realized it was just moving too fast for me too see.”

A lion and a stag; king of the jungle, and king of the forest.

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to make it look like he had something in his eye instead.

“Do you think Remus is okay?” Ariel asked, kicking the blanket up with her feet so that they were covered. “He’s all alone…”

“I don’t think he’s of sound mind just yet,” Severus said tiredly, not wanting to think about Lupin. He didn’t want him anywhere near his stream of consciousness for at least a decade, after tonight.

“I just hope he doesn’t hurt himself.”

“That is… more than likely,” Severus squeezed her shoulder. “The Wolfsbane kept him sane, but without it, I’m afraid he doesn’t keep his wits about him.”

Ariel winced. “Is that why he has the scars? I’ve never asked him… I didn’t want to be rude.”

“I would assume so, yes,” Severus said neutrally, trying to block out the image of Lupin convulsing, his amber eyes glowing as Ariel’s frightened gaze had landed on him —

“I feel dumb for asking that,” Ariel muttered, her fingers twisting in her nightshirt. “I don’t know much about werewolves… you never really taught me about them like you did with other dark creatures. Is that because of Remus?”

Severus stiffened. “There was rarely a point throughout your childhood where I had time to think of such things.”

Ariel gave him a knowing look, one that let him know she knew that he was holding something back. “If you _did,_ was there a reason? Was it Remus?”

His brow deepened in thought — it had not been something Severus had _purposefully_ avoided. The memory of Lupin and his condition had been forced to the part of his mind where he kept Lily, safe and locked away where Ariel could not see. Lupin had been easier; Ariel hadn’t known he’d existed, the same way Severus had kept Black away, under the impression Azkaban would have driven him mad by the time Ariel was of age anyway.

On the subject of werewolves… Severus couldn’t deny that there was a certain amount of reluctance on his part to talk about such creatures, with what Black had tried to do in his youth, and what Severus had seen at the end of that tunnel, and very nearly almost saw again tonight.

Severus found himself wanting to tell her what had happened; for some reason he could not fathom, he did.

“There was… an incident,” Severus sighed, leaning back against the pillows, “when I was a bit older than you are now.”

Ariel gazed up at him curiously, her expression telling him to continue. She looked famished, and that whatever information he had would be enough to keep her fed for days.

“When your mother and I were in our fifth year,” Severus began quietly, “I became suspicious of Lupin. He used to disappear once a month, and I knew Potter and Black knew something about it, and that it wasn’t something easily ignored. They used to strut around every full moon… leering at me when Lupin went away, and it drove me mad. Your mother didn’t believe me… she thought I was trying to make something that wasn’t there in order to row with Potter. It placed a very heavy strain on our friendship. Lily was… fond of Lupin — she liked that he wasn’t like Potter and Black, in certain respects, I suppose.”

“But you weren’t imagining it.” Ariel gave him a sad smile. “You were right.”

Severus nodded slowly. “I was… and Black knew I was getting close. I had nothing more than a hunch back then, but I had an idea that whatever Lupin was doing, it probably wouldn’t sit well with other students. One day, Black told me that if I was so curious, to investigate the Shrieking Shack that night, and I went.”

She paled. “But… Remus…”

“Had already transformed, yes.”

“He tried to _kill_ you?” Ariel looked like she’d been electrocuted. “H-how did you…?”

_“Potter_ pulled me back just in time,” Severus said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “It was to save his own skin, and Lupin’s, I suppose.”

“Did… did _Mum_ know what happened?”

“I was forbidden to tell anyone what had happened… Potter told people that he’d simply saved my life. I couldn’t counteract it. Your mother… brought it up once… but I couldn’t say anything.”

“So… she never knew what Sirius tried to do?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t think it’s likely that Potter ever told her.” Severus tried to imagine it — he couldn’t. Lily never would have married him if Potter had told her that, unless she’d come to hate him enough that —

_(maybe she had)_

“Why didn’t you ever tell me that?” Ariel’s eyebrows furrowed. “If you wanted me to hate them… that’s a pretty good reason to. I don’t blame Remus — he had no idea — but Sirius…”

She trailed off, looking troubled. Severus stayed silent, not wanting to disturb whatever she was trying to sort through. He was afraid that if he interrupted her mid-sifting, he’d upset her, and Severus wasn’t trying to do that tonight. All he wanted was for her to understand… and for him to understand her.

“What’s going to happen?” Ariel whispered. Her voice was like a gentle breeze - almost afraid to blow, for fear that she’d disturb him.

Severus raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were bright enough to gather that Black is most likely going to have his conviction overturned.”

“I mean with Harry and I.” She stared down at the comforter, her eyes watering. “Once Sirius goes free… Harry says he’ll go and live with him. Won’t I… be expected to go too?”

He froze, not having thought about that possibility. Would Dumbledore think it best if Ariel went with Black, once matters were sorted out? Black _had_ been right in that regard — had he not gone after Pettigrew all those years ago, he and the werewolf would have raised them both, and Severus might not have ever known…

Who was he —

The girl _was_ his, and if Black wanted a formal adoption, he’d have to do it over Severus’ cooling corpse. Unless Ariel was _asking_ —

“If… you want to be with your brother…” Severus strangled out.

“I do, but not if it means I can’t stay with you,” Ariel croaked.

He felt the relief surround him like a blanket. “If you think that it’s _best…”_

“I’m not leaving you, Dad.” Ariel wiped at her face as she rolled her eyes. “Stop trying to get rid of me.”

“I think what you _mean,”_ Severus snapped, “is that you _think_ I am, but I’ve never had any intention of letting you go.”

Ariel stared up at him, appearing shocked, until a look of warmth began spreading across her face, like flowers blooming in spring.

“We’ll just be separated again,” Ariel said, and there was no effort in disguising the sadness there, throbbing like a heartbeat. “That’s all.”

Severus let a hand thread through her hair before Ariel leaned into him heavily. His fingers drifted over her scar for a second, tracing the ends of the lightning bolt as Ariel sighed deeply against him.

He remembered three years ago, which felt like they’d happened in another lifetime, and how the idea of Harry being taken care of by a family that would give him everything _away_ from his daughter would’ve been just what Severus had wanted. No child, especially Lily’s, deserved the bitter, jealous remains of Petunia’s grudge, and that had always bothered him. Back then, however, Severus hadn’t cared enough… the five-year-old thing that had waited on the swings for him hadn’t stirred anything — or perhaps it had, and Severus hadn’t allowed himself to feel it.

The girl had forced that wall to slowly break down — it would always be there, and it _had_ to exist if Severus was going to make it back from his first meeting with the Dark Lord alive. Harry had grown apart from Ariel — the _actual_ family he had — and had latched onto others, the ones that gave him something Ariel didn’t understand. Was love not a birthright? Severus’ own parents had never known such a concept, and he’d never had siblings of his own to compare that ideology to. So was Harry’s coldness towards Ariel a result of his own doing? If Petunia had put aside the girl’s looks all those years ago and taken Ariel, would they be as the girl wanted them? Harry would’ve given her love — and Ariel would have loved him back. There wouldn’t have been some great chasm of time and circumstance separating them…

Would the girl have known better about such things, like talking diaries? Would she have tread more carefully, knowing that the finer things in life were hidden and tucked away, out of their reach? Was that why she had stared down at Pettigrew like he was the dirt on the bottom of her boot and wanted to see him dead before her eyes? Would Harry have been able to curb that, the same way Ariel would have been able to give herself to him?

Harry wasn’t going to live with Black because it was what should have been — he was going to seek something Severus hadn’t been able to fully give him himself, and Ariel was paying the price for it.

Did she know that? Was Ariel aware of it, or was it something undiscovered inside of her, like the Patronus?

“Do you regret your childhood?” Severus asked Ariel, before he could rethink it.

Ariel’s eyebrows hit her forehead. “Excuse me?”

Severus sighed, shifting her so that she was sitting cross-legged across from him. “Don’t you ever look back and resent me?”

“I mean… I wish you’d told me you were my biological dad from the beginning,” Ariel said, clearly troubled, but she still placed her hand over his. “But no, I don’t…”

“Not even Harry?”

“You asked about _my_ childhood _,_ not _Harry’s.”_

“You consider those two different things?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” Severus’ eyes narrowed. “You’re telling me that out of _all_ the things you could have changed, seeing the boy wasn’t one of them? All those times you begged now mean nothing?”

“Of course they mean something!” Ariel’s voice rose. “Back then, if you’d asked me this, I would have _immediately_ said Harry. It used to make me so angry… I thought I hated you, and Dumbledore at points, but then I would remember that it wouldn’t last forever. Now, I see that it just would’ve made things worse than they are now.”

Severus went still, his heartbeat quickening. “What do you mean?”

Her eyes sank into the dark. “Can you imagine bringing me to see him? How often, do you think? Once, twice a week? A month? We’d be _leaving_ Harry there every time. At least when you went to go and visit, he thought you were just watching out for him — which you were, but if I had… he would’ve just… hated me… sooner.”

“Oh, my girl,” he touched her cheek, “he doesn’t hate you.”

Ariel swallowed audibly, the cracks of misery in her face widening. “How do you know?”

“The rift between you and the boy isn’t your fault,” Severus said in a strained voice. “It’s mine. I kept you to myself, not realizing that it was just keeping me blind. When you did that ridiculous spell your first year, and we brought Harry here, I was… I was terrified of losing you, and so I hated Harry for making me feel so helpless, when it was my own blindness. You opened my eyes — you made the sun rise, but it was too late by then. The damage was already done, and nothing I do will ever make up for the childhood I denied the two of you. Stop blaming yourself. Blame _me.”_

He was breathing heavily by the time he was done. Ariel was staring up at him like she was staring right at the sun, without fear of hurting her eyes. Severus wanted her to stop; he turned away, his Occlumency shuddering.

“I…” Her mouth opened and closed several times. “I… don’t.”

Severus felt those two words bounce around his skull for a few seconds before they exploded. He stared at his daughter — this incomprehensible girl —

_“Why?”_ Severus snarled. “I have done things to you and to that boy, Ariel, that cannot be undone.”

“You can’t change the past,” Ariel said quietly. “I know you’re sorry, so there’s no point in making ourselves miserable over it.”

“That’s… that’s not an _excuse.”_ He could feel his chest expanding with every beat of his heart. “You’re miserable _now_ because of what I did!”

“Because Harry doesn’t know _why.”_ Ariel’s eyes snapped up to his. “I can make a Patronus because I thought of you, Dad. If that wasn’t the case, then maybe I’d say you were right… _maybe._ Even then, I know what I want. Of _course_ I would’ve wanted Harry and I together from the start, but that’s not what you asked me. You asked about my childhood, with _you,_ okay?”

She was trembling — Severus shushed her and drew her close, her face buried in his neck. Ariel let out a single sob, but otherwise made no noise. He wanted to tell her that there must have been _something_ that made her wish Dumbledore had never let Ariel stay with him. Even if Petunia had still refused, Severus found himself wondering if there had been more damage done to them apart, or if there would have been less, had they been together, even if it was with those wretched Muggles.

The thought was agonizing, but it was…

_my heart beats for you_

Severus stroked her hair, and focused on the sound of her breathing. It was a metronome, a steady pulse. When Ariel pulled away, Severus wrapped the quilt he kept at the end of the bed around her shoulders. She wrapped one of her hands around his, and took a deep, steadying breath.

“Since you said that… I was thinking, before,” Ariel said, fiddling with the blankets. “About something… that made me feel like the Patronus, and I think I have to face it before… everything changes again.”

He watched her face, trying to guess what she was going to say before she said it. She appeared incredibly torn — like the ghosts of alternative choices were torturing her now, instead of Severus.

“I need to tell Harry the truth,” Ariel said, watching him carefully, as if she were trying to gauge his reaction. “About you and I — us.”

Severus felt like the floor had been dropped out from underneath him. His mind automatically switched off, like he was trying to hide from her question, but he pulled through and steadied himself, not wanting to leave Ariel with these kinds of thoughts alone. He’d known this day would come, and had had a feeling this conversation was inevitable, but now that it was happening, Severus was… not as - opposed to it… as he might have imagined.

He found himself quickly trying to formulate an excuse to tell her _no,_ but somewhere, in a stream of consciousness Severus rarely used, he located a bit of consideration, and waded in it. Looking into Ariel’s face, Severus could see no uncertainty there — she _did_ want this, and had obviously spent a great deal of time thinking it over. She’d mentioned it, through the past weeks, when Harry had begun acting coldly towards Ariel.

Ariel wanted it — there was no denying that, and Severus didn’t have the strength to keep watching her torture herself over Harry’s feelings. It would kill him — at least in telling Harry the truth, it would fade in time. The boy’s resentment would only grow, and with the Dark Lord —

Severus thought of Lily, and what she would have wanted — there were a great many things he knew for certain, but he did not know if Harry knowing about _them_ was one of them. Would it _taint_ his vision of his mother? She hadn’t been with Potter… but how else would he view the rushed wedding, the pregnancy itself? His conception so soon after his sister’s birth…

This would… put the distance they needed between them. The boy would stop caring, and Severus could pretend it didn’t matter, and the balance of things would reset itself. The girl wouldn’t be caught, however — Harry would forgive her for keeping this from him in time.

“Tell me why,” Severus said quietly.

He memorized that light in her eyes, and tucked it away somewhere, for later.

* * *

 

Harry had to tell Ariel about France — what she’d said there.

Harry had thought about asking Dumbledore what the memories could have been, but he’d been preoccupied with making sure Pettigrew was secure and Snape-Ariel-memory-free that Harry hadn’t had the chance to steal even a minute. Sirius had gone to the Garden as Padfoot, to check on Remus once it was safe, and Harry had gone in case he’d needed help.

It was strange, for his past-self, and _other-_ past-self to be there, their memories both very real and very true. It hadn’t hit him until Remus, who looked like he’d been run over by a herd of elephants post-transformation, had asked Pettigrew who had Stunned him, and Pettigrew had pointed a trembling finger at Harry.

Harry had tried his very best to looked shocked and innocent — after all, a _part_ of him was.

When Sirius had told Pettigrew to stop fucking around, he’d burst into a brand new stream of hysterics, insisting that he wasn’t lying until Sirius had kicked him. Dumbledore had given him a disapproving look, until his knowing blue eyes twinkled back at Harry. Dumbledore had then tried to get Remus to head down to the infirmary to have Madam Pomfrey look him over, but he had firmly refused.

“This has gone on for too long, Albus,” Remus had said, giving Pettigrew that same disgusted, pitying glare he had back in the Garden. “I want it sorted out, before he starts getting any half-baked ideas.”

Not long after that, Dumbledore, Pettigrew, Sirius, and Remus had headed off to the Ministry. Harry had wanted to go, but Sirius had insisted that he not be privy to the pandemonium that was likely to break out once people caught sight of him. He assured him that if they needed his testimony, Dumbledore would come back for him.

The timeline where the spell _had_ worked was still a problem, even if Harry had stopped themselves from doing it, and Ariel was awake and fine. She wouldn’t remember the memory of their parents dying, or whatever else she had seen, but Harry did. He’d decided not to tell her _that…_ but he would warn her about the future, because it was _their_ future, and she’d looked gutted.

Luckily, Harry didn’t have to search long for her — Ariel ran into him just as he was heading down to the dungeons. She was holding something tightly in her arms that made Harry’s mouth water.

“Oi, watch the soup,” Ariel said — she looked like she hadn’t slept a wink. “The house elves nearly passed out while making this, and I don’t think they’ll survive a second batch. I don’t think they get many specific requests.”

“Why are you carrying it around?” Harry wrinkled his nose.

“I was going to bring this to Remus.” Ariel motioned to the steaming bowl in her arms. “I had the house elves make it special. I feel horrible that he forgot to take the potion, after everything that happened last night…” 

“He’s already at the Ministry,” said Harry, giving her a small smile when her face fell. “He wanted to go as soon as he transformed back — he said Sirius had waited long enough. Dumbledore’s with them.”

She made a disapproving noise. “Doesn’t he need _rest?_ He must feel awful.”

“He said he wouldn’t be able to rest until he got this over with. He went to go and testify on Sirius’ behalf, even though Dumbledore doesn’t think they’ll need it, with Pettigrew being evidence and all.”

“Oh, alright,” Ariel mumbled. “I guess… I’ll leave it for him. There’s a Warming Charm on it.”

“I’ll come with you,” Harry volunteered.

She blinked back, surprised, but another happier smile spread across her face. “I’d like that.”

They walked in silence to the Defense office. Remus had spelled it so that it would always be unlocked for the both of them, so they’d be able to get in without much of a problem. It would also be a good place for them to talk without being overheard.

Harry waited until Ariel placed the soup on Remus’ desk, and then —

“I have something to tell you,” they both said at exactly the same time.

They both stared at each other like they’d thrown Hexes instead of a confession.

Ariel wrung her hands in her jumper. “It’s… a big… I mean, you should probably say yours first —”

“What do _you_ have to tell _me?”_ Harry asked, confused. “Did something happen?”

“Nothing with Pettigrew, no.” Ariel shook her head. “Does yours?”

Harry hesitated. “Yes… sort of. It’s complicated, but you go first.”

She shoved her hands into her jean pockets, staring across the room at the door, like she was waiting for someone to enter.

“I haven’t been very honest with you about Mum and Dad,” Ariel said in a very, very quiet voice.

Harry stared back her her evenly — his throat felt tighter. “Mum and Dad?”

“Severus told you he showed you a memory, right?” Ariel fiddled with the spoon, twirling it around her fingers. “Of the day he called Mum… a name? And James and Sirius were being horrid…” she looked away, her face twisting into a mask of disgust.

He nodded, the memory stuck in his mind like some kind of squished bug — he couldn’t shake it, no matter how much he tried to scrape it off.

“Did Severus tell you that was the last time he ever spoke to Mum?” Ariel’s eyes were glittering strangely now. “That she never forgave him?”

“He told me you were his redemption,” Harry said softly, his heart heavy in his chest, recalling that day. “For that day… and for joining the Death Eaters afterwards.”

Ariel looked down, her mouth set in a tight line — it looked like it could snap in two, like a wand. “That wasn’t true.”

Harry’s heart skipped a beat — _he almost got you killed us us us_ —

“They met in a bar by accident,” Ariel whispered in a hollow voice, like she was trying to turn a lie into a truth. “And nine months later, I happened.”

He still didn’t understand at first, and then, something inside his ears started roaring, so loud and so viciously that Harry felt like he might pass out. Everything — all the memories — the past and future and present, seemed to attract to each other, until all of them connected —

_then what about your dad_

she hated him

_“That_ was the last time Mum and Dad saw each other,” Ariel said. “Then she married James —”

_Mum and Dad_

and then she didn’t

_and James_

Harry stood up

_There’s a lot about my dad you don’t know_

knocking over the bowl in the process.

_he was friends with mum_

Ariel was calling his name.

_she’s like Evans part two_

But Harry didn’t hear her.

_She is mine_

He was walking

_She is mine_

away.

_mine_

* * *

 

_Fine_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Ladies and gents, we have made it to the end of PoA, and Red Sorrow, which I didn’t think I’d be saying for a VERY long time. I want to thank everyone who has read, or reviewed, or just ever reached on this journey. 
> 
> I honestly can’t say when the sequel will go up just yet. It could be next week; it could be next month (which will be the latest). I still need to re-read GoF, outline the plot, and figure out just what I want this book to be. The first several chapters will be completely OOC before we hit even hit the World Cup stuff. This is all in the midst of concerts, juries, and finals, so all I ask for is your patience while I get my shit together. 
> 
> And reviews. Leave suggestions, questions, comments, I’ll take what I can get. Seriously. Tell me what you’d like to see in GoF, because most times, they jog creativity on my end, and I can get cookin’ much quicker. 
> 
> If you want updates, or oneshots to hold you over while I music-major my way through the next few weeks, you can track the ol’ tumblr, lupinlaughed.
> 
> Thank you for your patience, interest, and support. Until Gentle is the Power (which is the tentative title!!!) 
> 
> \- sam x


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